Too Darn Hot (7 page)

“What about the clothes from under the bed?”

“They probably belonged to the dead guy cause he was five eight and Ladd’s six feet.”

“How d’ya know that?”

“Powell talked to Ladd’s parents and they told him.”

“So they know he’s missin?”

“They’re on their way to town.”

I hated having Powell in on this but at least I was off the hook on telling the Ladds about their son.

“I think they gotta be upper crust cause they’re gonna be stayin at the St. Moritz.”

“Pretty swanky.”

“Ya gonna go see em?”

“If I can. Who knows how hard Powell’s gonna make it.”

“Yeah. But I heard even though he buzzed the Ladds, he’s a lot more interested in John Doe.”

“Ya know if he’s gonna ask the Ladds to ID him?”

“Don’t know that. But he probably will, don’tcha think?”

“Makes sense to me. Thanks for givin me the skinny, Marty.”

“Ya betcha.”

So most of the clothes were Ladd’s. And only the stuff under the bed belonged to the stiff. I wondered what that meant. Did Charlie Ladd bump off John Doe, take off his clothes and shove em under the bed, then leave without taking anything but what was on his back? Or did John Doe check in as Private Ladd and get bumped off in Ladd’s room? It didn’t explain the clothes, but maybe there was something I wasn’t putting together.

And did the killer want John Doe, or did he think he’d killed Ladd?

SEVEN

T
he next morning at eight in the A.M. I got on the horn to George Cummings. I said his old-school chum was missing and that I’d like to talk to George. He said he’d meet me for coffee at the corner of Pine and Warren streets at O’Brien’s Luncheonette, ten sharp. He’d be in a gray suit and sporting a striped tie. I told him I thought most men in there would be wearing the same thing. He allowed how that was true.

So I told him what I’d be wearing. A yellow short-sleeve number cinched at the waist. In my left-hand breast pocket there’d be a blue silk hankie. And on my feet I’d be wearing blue open-toed shoes with an ankle strap. He said it sounded cute and I almost hung up on him.

I didn’t much like the Wall Street area, except maybe on weekends when it was quiet. Nobody lived there and the Stock Exchange was closed. So was everything else.

But this was a Friday and the place was jumping and the buildings were high. Summertime. I started singing that tune in my head. I knew it was wrong for my voice, but in my head I did a great job.

By the time I got to O’Brien’s I felt like a dragon had been breathing on me. Inside wasn’t much cooler.

Cummings stood up the minute I came through the door. Seemed like everybody was getting to meetings before me even though I got there early. He was a stocky guy with black hair parted on the left side. He was clean-shaven and as I got closer I could see that his specs were as thick as slabs of ham. He wore exactly what he’d said he would.

“Miss Quick, please sit down.”

He did and I did. The place was full despite the hour.

“Would you care for some coffee?”

“Sure.”

He signaled for a waitress.

I reached into my pocketbook and got out my Camels. Cummings was ready with a light before I had the cigarette out of the pack. “Thanks.”

He took his own from a leather-and-brass case and lit it with a matching lighter.

“So you’re here to talk about Charlie, poor bastard. Oh, excuse me, Miss Quick.”

“I’ve heard worse and call me Faye. Can I call ya George?”

“Of course.”

“Yeah, I’m here to talk about Charlie. When’s the last time ya saw him?”

“Let’s see. Today is Friday so I guess a week ago.”

I didn’t let on that I was flabbergasted. “Ya mean last Friday?”

“We all met for drinks.”

“Who’s we all?”

“Me, Charlie, and the young soldier he had with him. Charlie and I went to college together.”

“Yeah. I know.” I took out my notepad. “What was the name of the other soldier?”

“Charlie’s friend . . . give me a second and I’ll think of it. Oh, yes. David Cooper. That was his name.”

“Supposedly Charlie didn’t arrive in town until Saturday,” I said.

He chuckled. “He told Claire that because he wanted a night on the town with the boys.”

“You know Claire?”

“Of course.”

The waitress finally appeared. She was a bottle blonde with droopy dark eyes and an expression that said she didn’t care what you wanted. “Yeah?”

“A cup of coffee for the lady, please.”

“That all?”

“Faye?”

“Maybe I’ll have a Danish. What kind ya got?”

“Cheese and prune.”

I thought for a few seconds.

“This ain’t like ya gotta decide between rubies or diamonds, ya know.”

“Cheese,” I said.

“Glad we got that one settled. Now life can go on. Anything for you,” she asked.

“I’m fine with the coffee. Thanks.”

She left.

“She’s a little brusque,” George said.

I smiled, thinking I’d like to give the broad one in the chops. “Have ya met Claire often?”

“Once or twice.”

I’d been right. She lied about knowing him.

“Can ya think of any reason Claire would say she’d never met ya?”

“She said that?”

I nodded.

“No. I can’t imagine why she would.” He looked hurt.

“Maybe I misunderstood,” I said.

He didn’t say anything and looked down at his coffee.

“So where did you gents go on boys’ night out?”

“Where
didn’t
we go?” He was looking chipper again.

“Meanin ya hit all the spots?”

“That’s right. From the Biltmore to Tony Pastor’s and everything in between.” He laughed then snorted.

“So ya musta been feelin no pain by the time ya went home.”

“You could say that.”

I saw that he was proud of that dubious accomplishment.

“What happened when the night ended?”

“I went home. I’m not sure where they went. I guess you can tell why I’m not in the service.” He adjusted his cheaters.

“Your eyes?”

“Legally blind without these. Otherwise I’d be over there giving those Huns a run for their money.”

Every guy who wasn’t in the war wanted to be. And they all acted like they were Superman. If they only knew. I wished I could have Woody’s letters printed in some paper. They wouldn’t be so eager to get into it then.

“This David Cooper was in the service, too?”

“Army. A private like Charlie.”

“And ya never saw or talked to either one of em again.”

“No. I knew Charlie was planning to spend his time with Claire and I had no reason to be in touch with Cooper.”

“Any ideas why Charlie would be missin?”

“None at all. To tell you the truth, I don’t think he
is
missing.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I’m not sure I should tell you.”

“George, if ya have any idea about where Charlie Ladd is, I think ya better tell me.”

“Coffee and cheese Danish,” the waitress said, and plunked it down in front of me, a slurp of java jumping the lip to the saucer. “Eat up.”

“Brusque,” I said.

“Very.”

“So what about Charlie?” I squashed my cig in the ashtray.

“Well, we did have some female company that night.”

“And?”

“Charlie seemed pretty taken with one of the girls.”

“I don’t suppose ya know her name?”

“I do. It was Ida Collier. She was some dish.”

“And ya know where I can find her?”

“Well, not exactly.”

I hated
not exactly.
“Ya mean ya don’t have an address but ya know kinda?”

“That’s right. She lives in town. I think she said Greenwich Village. You know those types.”

“Yeah, sure. Real immoral.” I took a bite of Danish. Very nice.

“Exactly.”

“So what yer sayin is that Charlie mighta flown the coop for Ida?”

“Might. He was pretty damn interested in her.”

“And what about Private Cooper? He interested in some babe, too?”

“I’d say he had a minimal interest in someone called Gloria Lane. She was pretty, too, but not like Ida.”

“How about you, Georgie. Don’t tell me you were left out of the activities.”

“I’m married.”

“And?”

“I don’t cheat.”

“No offense intended.”

“None taken. Is there anything else? I need to get back to my office.”

“This Cooper character. He act any special way toward Charlie?”

“I don’t understand what you mean?”

“Was there any tension between them?”

He put his head back and stared at the ceiling like there was gonna be an answer up there.

“George?”

“I’m trying to recall.”

“Lemme know when ya do.” This guy was getting my goat.

He came back from mining the ceiling for info. “There was something odd about Cooper. Not odd, exactly. Quiet. He kept up with us drink for drink but he barely spoke at all. I thought he was a bit sulky.”

Sulky.
Who says sulky about a guy?

“Could ya describe him?”

“Look, Miss Quick. I didn’t pay much attention to him. I didn’t even know him. Charlie’s my friend and I hadn’t seen him in a while.”

“So ya were more focused on him.”

“That’s right.”

“Anything ya could tell me about Cooper would be helpful.”

“Such as?”

“Color of hair, his eyes, anything?”

“I think he had dark hair. Yes, it was dark. But I can’t remember anything else about him. The uniform tends to make everyone look alike.”

“If ya saw him again, would ya recognize him?”

“Oh, yes. I’m sure I would.”

“Then I’d like ya to do somethin, George. When ya get back to work, I’d like ya to call this number and ask for Detective Powell. Tell him ya might be able to identify the body found at the Commodore Hotel.”

“Body?”

“Yeah. It’s not Charlie, so don’t worry. But the body was found in Charlie’s room.”

“This is incredible.”

“Good word for it.”

“And you don’t know whose body it is?”

“That’s right. Claire saw him and didn’t know him.”

“You think it might be Cooper?”

“I have no idea. Could be. But it might be somebody else altogether.”

“I don’t think I can do this. I can’t tell them at work that I have to leave to identify a body.”

“I said to call the detective. I didn’t say ya had to go to the morgue during work hours.”

“The morgue?”

“That’s where they keep unidentified bodies, George.” I finished off my Danish.

“I have to go.” He started to slide outta the booth.

I reached over and laid my hand on his. “Ya can be subpoenaed to do this, ya know.” I didn’t think that was true, but I didn’t think he’d know, either.

“I’ve never done anything like this.”

“Most people haven’t. If ya can ID this guy, it’ll be a big help.”

“All right.”

“You’ll call Powell?”

“Yes. You have my word.”

“You sure.”

“Miss Quick, I’ve given you my word.”

I caught the drift. Word and honor. “Okay. You have nothin to be afraid of, George. There’s nothin gory to look at.”

“I’m
not
afraid, Miss Quick. It’s just damn inconvenient.” He stood up and threw some money on the table.

The waitress watched him leave and made a beeline to our booth. When she saw he’d left money she settled down to her annoying self.

“Ya want anything else?”

“Now that ya ask, I think I’ll have another Danish. And give me another cup a joe, too.”

After my snack I went up to the Village to my apartment. Dolores was on the steps. Her wig was particularly cockeyed and it was hard not to say anything, but I kept my trap shut.

“Well, bubele, yer home early.”

“Not stayin. I need to look somethin up.”

“For yer case?”

“Yeah.”

“I dunno how ya can stand rushing around in this heat.”

“I can’t stand it, but I don’t have a choice. I’d love to stay and chew the fat with ya, Dolores, but I’m in an awful hurry.”

“Sure, darling. You go.”

“I’ll see ya later.”

“You’ll see me when ya come out. I’ll be here all day.”

“Swell.”

Inside, I went straight to the telephone table and took out the book. Zach was sleeping on the couch and couldna cared less about me cause it wasn’t feeding time.

I opened the phone book to the C’s, turning pages until I finally came to the right name. There were all kinds of them. On the next page I found the I’s. Not too many of those. I found what I was looking for and wrote down the phone and address. She didn’t live far from me. I wondered if I should call first. Better to take her off guard.

Then I talked to Marty and told him John Doe’s possible name. Marty was gonna run a check in the hotel, see if he could find Cooper. I don’t know why but I was getting a feeling more and more that Cooper was making the morgue home.

Outside, Dolores said, “See. Here I am. Here I stay.”

“I’m off,” I said.

I went down the steps and headed west. Ida Collier lived off Bleecker on Leroy Street.

For all I knew I’d find Charlie Ladd in her bed.

EIGHT

C
ollier’s place was one in from the corner. The building was brick and looked slightly off kilter, like a broad with her slip showing.

I went up the steps to check the names and see what floor Collier was on. I found it. She was in the basement apartment so I hadda go down the steps and to the left, through a wrought-iron gate, and down three steps more. The shade was pulled on the window and why not? Open, anyone could see in.

I rang the bell. Waited. Rang it again. Waited. Once more.

“Hold your horses,” a woman’s voice said. The door opened a crack and a pair of sleepy eyes looked out at me.

“Are you Ida Collier?”

“Whaddaya want?”

“I wanna speak to Ida Collier.”

“That’s me. Who’re you?”

I told her.

She laughed. “A private eye? C’mon.”

I showed her my license. “I’d like to come in and talk to ya.”

“About what?”

“Charlie Ladd.”

“Who?”

Either she was a good actress or she didn’t remember him.

“You were with him last Friday. A private in the army.”

“I know lots of privates in the army.”

I bet she did. “Look, can ya let me come in? It’s hotter’n Hades out here.”

“You think it’s cooler in here?”

“You got a fan?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll sit in front of it.”

She let out a sigh the size of the Chrysler Building and opened the door wider so I could go in. The room was dark. I could barely make out what was what.

“Lemme put on a light,” Ida said.

When she did, I saw she was in her bathrobe, which she wore over a long pink nightgown.

“Excuse my appearance. I had a late night.” She gave me a knowing look.

There was an unmade bed in the corner and the rest of the room had a few chairs around a coffee table. There was a galley kitchen and a door that musta led to the bathroom. Unless Ladd was in there he wasn’t with Ida Collier.

I looked around for the fan but didn’t see one. The air was thick and hot.

“I need coffee,” she said. “Want some?”

“Sure.”

She went over to her little kitchen and lit the gas under the coffeepot.

Then she turned around to face me. She had wavy platinum hair like Jean Harlow, cool blue eyes the size of quarters, a straight nose, and full lips. The kinda girl a soldier on leave might wanna make hay with. After lighting up she put a hand on her hip.

“So, what can I do ya?”

I took out a Camel and lit it. “What about that fan?”

“It’s broke.”

“But ya said . . .”

“I said I had a fan and I do. You didn’t ask me if it worked.”

How’d I get so lucky playing games with a wiseacre in a room the size and temperature of a pizza oven?

“Can we sit down?” I said.

“Why not?”

We sat in chairs that weren’t too steady.

“Miss Collier, I . . .”

“Ida. Call me Ida. What’s your handle again?”

“Faye.”

“Oh, yeah. So you were sayin, Faye?”

“Do ya remember meetin Private Charlie Ladd? It was Friday night.”

She blew a smoke circle into the room. “A bell is ringin. He with a few other guys?”

“Yeah.”

“A looker as I recall. Yeah, Charlie.”

“Have ya seen him since then?”

“Nah. It was just one night.”

“And where was that?”

“Jazz club. Village Vanguard on Seventh Avenue.”

I knew it like I knew myself.

“So that was it then. In the club.”

“And here. Later. I don’t wantcha gettin the wrong idea about me. Me and Charlie was havin a deep discussion and when the others wanted to leave, well, me and Charlie wanted to go on with it. So that’s what we did. I think the java’s ready.” She got up and swung her way to the stove.

So why did she pretend she didn’t know who Ladd was?

“Meanin you left with Charlie and the other private?”

“Not quite. How d’ya take your coffee?”

I told her. “What’s
not quite
mean?”

“The other guy left with my friend Gloria. A great gal.”

She handed me my coffee.

I quashed my cig in a black ashtray. “Thanks. At first ya said ya didn’t know who Charlie was. How come?”

“I didn’t wanna be too agreeable, ya know?”

“No.”

“Sometimes ya give with the info right off the bat and people take advantage.”

“Like what?”

“You wouldn’t wanna know.”

I would, but some other time. “So ya remember the other private? The one who went off with that great gal, Gloria?”

“Sure, I remember him.”

“What about the third guy?”

“Kind of a stiff, ya ask me.”

Maybe I’d pegged Ida wrong. She’d been straight with me for at least three minutes.

“You know where Gloria lives?”

“Sure. Say, what’s this all about anyway?”

“Can ya give me Gloria’s address?”

“I don’t think I will.”

“Why not?”

“Cause ya won’t tell me what’s goin on.”

“If I tell ya, will ya give me Gloria’s address.”

“Yeah.”

“Charlie Ladd’s missin.”

“Whaddaya mean missin?”

“He hasn’t been seen since Monday night.”

“You on the level?”

“Yeah.”

“What about his friend?”

“David Cooper?”

“Was that his name? I never did get it. Glo probably did, though. Anyways, is he missin, too?”

“Not sure. But there’s an unidentified dead guy in all this.”

“You sayin somebody croaked?”

“Somebody was knocked off.”

“Cooper?”

“Maybe.”

“You’ve seen the stiff?”

“Yeah.” I didn’t think it would help anything if I told her I’d found him. “All we know is that it’s not Charlie.”

“That’s good. I bet his girlfriend’s tearin her hair out.”

“Ladd told ya he had a girlfriend?”

“Sure. Showed me her picture, too. Nice-lookin babe. What’s the matter? Why are ya lookin at me like that?”

“I’m surprised.”

“At what?”

“That Ladd would tell ya about his girlfriend.”

“Why? It’s not like we was plannin to set up house or anything.”

“So now can ya give me Gloria’s address?”

“I’m feelin sorta reluctant, ya get my drift.”

“I don’t.”

“Is Gloria gonna get in any trouble?”

“No more than you.”

“Hey. Ya mean I’m gonna be in hot water?” She lit another cigarette. “I need a drink. You want one?”

I didn’t have to check my watch to know it wasn’t even noon. “No, thanks.”

“Suit yerself.”

She got up and went to the kitchen again, opened a cabinet above the sink, and took out a bottle of something clear that I guessed was gin. I watched while she poured a couple a fingers into a tall glass. She gulped it down and then poured another, put the bottle on the counter, and came back to her chair.

“So as I was sayin, is this gonna get me in a jam?”

“If I found ya, the cops will. So ya better gimme Gloria’s address so I can put her wise to the situation.”

“Me and Gloria didn’t have nothin to do with nobody croakin or disappearin.”

“I think ya should know the stiff was found in Ladd’s hotel room.”

Her face lost the little bit of luster she’d hung on to.

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Yesterday I was tied up.”

“I didn’t say he was killed yesterday.”

“Well, it don’t matter when the corpse croaked cause like I said, me and Gloria had nothin to do with it.”

“Have ya talked to her since ya spent yer evenin with the boys? Compared notes?”

“Who do ya think we are, June Allyson and Deanna Durbin? We don’t gab on the horn and I ain’t seen her since that night.” She took a swig of her gin.

“So how d’ya know she didn’t have anything to do with the murder?”

“You kiddin me? Glo’s a decent girl, no matter what ya think.”

“Whaddaya mean, what I think?”

“I’m not just off the farm, ya know. I can tell when a person’s lookin down on me.”

“That’s what ya think I’m doin?”

“Ain’tcha?”

“No.” I wondered if I was. “You think I’m some sorta saint?”

“Betcha yer a virgin.”

“Now yer getting outta line, Ida.”

She smirked and took a deep drag on her cig.

“I have no opinion about what ya did or didn’t do with Charlie Ladd. And I don’t care. All I wanna do is find him.”

“And what about the stiff?”

“That’s why I wanna talk to Gloria.”

“See, that’s what I mean. Yer gonna get her up a creek without a paddle fer nothin.”

“If she didn’t do anything, she’ll have a paddle.”

“Why don’tcha let me give her the scoop?”

“Cause I need to talk to her, that’s why?”

“Okay. I’ll give ya her address. But when you leave, I’m callin her.”

“I can’t stop ya from doin what ya think ya have to do. But yer makin me awful suspicious.”

“About what?”

“What you girls might know. Lemme ask ya this. We need ya, are ya willin to ID a body?”

“Hell, no.”

I didn’t think we’d need her cause Cummings was gonna do that. “Then gimme Gloria’s address and ya won’t have to.”

“Ya think I’d sell out a friend for somethin like that?”

I stared at her.

“What the hell. Like ya said, the cops’ll be comin here anyways. She lives on East Twenty-eighth Street.”

“Building number?”

She gave it to me. Also the phone in case Gloria wasn’t in. “You girls don’t work, right?”

“You bet yer bottom dollar we work. Just not the hours you work.”

“Night shift.”

“You got it.”

I thanked her for the coffee and the info. For a second it did feel cooler outside than in Ida’s place. Then the humidity hit me like a wet towel.

I was hungry and Gloria could wait. After Ida called her she probably wouldn’t be home anyway. I decided to grab a snack at Blondell’s. It was on West Fourth Street, not far from where I was.

Ida Collier was something else. I didn’t think she had anything to do with Ladd disappearing or the body in the hotel room. But I couldn’t rule out Gloria till I met her.

I got to Blondell’s pretty quick. The gold star in the plate-glass window always gave me a turn when I saw it. Most of the tables and booths were taken. I found one in the back of the room, which was fine by me. I could read my book in peace.

Skip, the owner, came over when he saw me. He looked like he had two black eyes and had been in a fight. But I knew different. I knew the bruising around his eyes was from grief. His brother, Fred, had been killed in action not so long ago.

“How are ya, Faye? Long time no see.”

It was true. I had a hard time going to the joint cause everything had changed since Fred’s death.

“I’m okay, Skip. How about you?”

“Gettin along.” He parked his big body in the chair across from me.

Since Fred’s death, Skip’d let his black hair, which he’d always worn in a military cut, grow out. I didn’t know what it meant, if anything.

“Ya got any interestin cases, Faye?”

And that was another thing. He’d never called me Faye before Fred died. It was always monikers like Snappy Susan, Delicious Donna, Gorgeous Gladys. Different all the time. But no more. Although Skip was running the eatery, he was just making the moves. It was like he was a blown-out Easter egg, undecorated. Skip died when Fred did.

“Interestin cases? Ah, nothin to speak of. Skip, yer not lookin so good.”

“Just don’t tell me to pull myself together, okay?”

“I’d never say that.” And I never would.

“Alla time customers come in and say things like
You
should be over it by now, Skip.
Why? Why should I be over it by now? Who says? Or
Life goes on, Skip.
They think I don’t know that?” He fingered the scar that ran down his left cheek.

“People mean well,” I said like some dumb Pollyanna.

He gave me a look with those deep dark eyes.

I said, “Yeah, I know. I’m full of it.”

He laughed, something I hadn’t seen him do for months.

“You’re the best, Faye. Guess I better get my behind into the kitchen.” He got up and said, “Keep your powder dry, kid. And try the meat loaf.”

So that’s what I ordered. Meat loaf, mashed, and beans.