IV

Dallas found MacAdam in a bar opposite the Frou-Frou Club, where he had a good view of the main entrance of the club.

MacAdam, a dark, beefy man, who looked too big for his clothes, was nursing a pint of beer, and staring through the window of the bar, a far-away expression in his eyes.

Dallas gave him a jab in the ribs that made him spill some of his beer. He turned wrathfully.

‘Oh, you,’ he said in disgust. ‘I might have known it. I saw Gil is go in about a quarter of an hour ago. I guessed you’d be around like bad news.’

‘Where’s Baird?’ Dal as demanded.

MacAdam eyed him sharply. He didn’t like the expression on Dal as’s face.

‘What’s cooking? You look like you swal owed a bee.’

‘You’l think you’ve swal owed a goddamn hornet in a moment,’ Dal as snarled. ‘Where’s Baird?’

‘In the club, of course. Why else do you think I’m here?’

‘He isn’t in the club. Don’t you know there’s a rear exit?’

MacAdam sighed.

‘So what am I supposed to do?’ he asked, waving his beer in Dal as’s face. ‘Cut myself in half? I can’t watch the rear exit as well as the front, can I?’

‘If you’d watched the club farther down the road,’ Dal as said angrily, ‘you could have seen him if he had come out either exits.’

‘Yeah, I guess that’s right,’ MacAdam said, his face fal ing. ‘I had a thirst on me like an oil fire. I just had to put it out.’

‘Wel , he’s gone, and it’s my bet your job’s gone, too. Rico isn’t in the club, and Zoe’s missing. If anything happens to her, you’re for the high jump. I’l damn wel see to that! Get out of here and watch for Gillis when he comes out. I’m turning him over to you while I look for Baird.’

MacAdam hurriedly emptied his glass.

‘What do you think’s happened to Zoe?’ he asked, looking worried.

‘Anything can have happened to her. Get going before Gillis slips through your fingers.’

They went out on to the street together.

‘If I don’t pick Baird up, you’d better quit,’ Dal as said. He was cold with fury. ‘We’re responsible for that girl. She was one of us.’

‘Yeah, yeah; take it easy,’ MacAdam said. ‘I slipped up, but how the hel was I to know? How do you hope to find Baird? He’s got a start on you, hasn’t he?’

‘Rico owns a Roadmaster Buick. It’s a showy job, and it isn’t in the parking lot. It’s my bet they’ve taken Zoe somewhere in it. I’m going to try and trace it.’

‘Rather you than me,’ MacAdam said. ‘Sounds like you’ve got plenty of exercise coming to you.’

‘Watch Gil is and save your sympathy,’ Dal as snapped, and walked off to where he had parked his car.

The parking attendant came over as Dallas turned on his headlights. Dallas gave him half a buck.

‘Mr Rico took his car out about twenty minutes ago. I’m trying to find him. Know which way he went?’

‘He turned left and headed towards his apartment,’ the at endant said. ‘I reckon he’s gone home, although he’s never been as early as this before.’

Dallas nodded. He thought that was unlikely.

‘Mr Baird was with him, wasn’t he?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Anyone else?’

The man shook his head.

‘Just the two of them. Mr Baird was driving.’

Dallas started his car.

‘I’ll try his apartment,’ he said, and drove out of the park. Swinging his car to the left, he drove as fast as the traffic would allow him to the intersection. Straight ahead would bring him to Rico’s apartment block, but he couldn’t imagine Rico would take Zoe there: he was too cautious for that.

Dallas swung the car to the kerb, a few yards from the traffic lights. He got out and went across to a man selling newspapers, hunching his shoulders against the drizzling ram.

‘Hey, Joe,’ he said. ‘Have you seen a big Buick with yellow fenders pass this way?’

‘You mean Rico’s car?’ the man asked, and shook his head. ‘I didn’t notice it. The cop on the corner might have seen him. He’s been airing his corns for the past hour right there.’

‘Thanks,’ Dallas said, and went over to the patrolman, who looked as if his feet had taken root on the kerb. He eyed Dallas without interest as he came up. Dallas poked one of his cards at him. ‘Seen Rico’s Buick pass this way within the past twenty minutes?’

The cop read the card, nodded and handed it back. Purvis subscribed heavily to the police fund each year, and most of the cops played ball with the Agency.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I seen the little rat.’

‘Which way did he go?’

‘Turned right at the lights, and headed towards the river.’

Dallas felt a little chill run up his spine. He might have guessed that’s the way they’d go.

‘Thanks,’ he said, turned and ran back to his car. He drove rapidly along West Street, turned left at the next intersection, increased his speed along the broad, deserted dock road. A couple of miles of fast driving brought him to the river. Again he pulled to the kerb and got out. He spent ten minutes trying to find someone who had seen Rico’s car before he succeeded.

A red-headed street walker volunteered the information.

‘Sure, it was heading for the old causeway,’ she told Dallas, while she ogled him from under her hat-brim. ‘It’s Rico, isn’t it? I thought I recognised him. Why worry about him, sugar? Let’s you and me have fun.’

‘Some other night,’ Dal as said, scarcely hearing what she said. ‘I’ve got to find this guy.’

‘No accounting for taste,’ the girl said, shrugging her thin shoulders. The rain dripped off her umbrella on to her sandalled feet. ‘Me — I wouldn’t look for Rico if he was the last man on earth.’

Dallas got into his car and headed along the narrow causeway. He was sure now that Baird and Rico had brought Zoe here to murder her. Why else should they come down to the river? He felt responsible for Zoe, and he drove recklessly, refusing to accept what his common sense was telling him: if they were going to murder her, they would have done it by now.

Very soon he got completely lost in the narrow alleys that ran between the derelict warehouses. It became impossible to drive fast and, exasperated, he stopped the car and got out. Rain poured down on him as he swung the beam of his flashlight up at the high buildings. He cursed softly, wondering which way to go, when suddenly he heard the sharp bang of a heavy calibre gun.

The shot sounded close. As far as he could judge it came from a building a little way up the alley.

As he broke into a run, he knew he was too late to save Zoe, and he groped for his .38 police special.

He reached the end of the alley, paused to listen again, but heard nothing. It had been somewhere near here, he thought, looking up at the row of high buildings. Their doors were boarded up, and he guessed there must be an entrance somewhere at the back. He ran down the next alley he came to and reached an intersection that he calculated would bring him to the rear of the buildings he had just passed. Then he heard a car start up. He increased his speed and raced down the alley to another intersection. As he rounded the corner he was in time to see a big car moving swiftly away from him. Its parking lights lit up its bright yellow fenders.

It was moving too fast for him to hope to overtake it. He stopped, raised the .38 and fired. The smash of glass told him he had scored a hit. The car increased speed, and before he could fire again, it had whipped around a bend and had disappeared.

He stood there for a moment, trying to think what to do next. It would be hopeless to try to find Zoe’s body. They were certain to have dumped her into the river, but if he acted fast it might be possible to get the body before the currents took it away.

He raced back to his car, scrambled in, and drove as fast as he dared back along the causeway. There was no sign of the Buick. The delay in getting back to his car, finding his way to the causeway, had given Rico too big a lead to hope to overtake him.

Dallas spotted an all-night café at the corner of West and Union. He crammed on his brakes, swung the car to the kerb and ran across the sidewalk into the café.

The place was full of steamy moisture, the smell of frying onions and hot, strong Java. A dozen dockers sat around a big table playing dominoes and drinking beer. The red-headed street walker who had identified Rico’s car, was sitting on a high stool at the bar, showing off her legs in the hope of drumming up some trade. None of the dockers seemed interested. She smiled archly at Dallas when he came in, but he went past her like a miniature hurricane and dived into a phone booth at the end of the room.

He caught Olin as he was leaving for the night.

‘I can hand you Baird on a plate,’ he said urgently. ‘Listen: it’s a safe bet Baird’s just knocked off one of Rico’s taxi-dancers. Rico’s in it, too. They’ve slung her in the river. I spot ed their car leaving and took a shot at them. I think I smashed a window. If you get moving fast there’s a chance of recovering the body before the tide gets it.’

Olin knew Dallas didn’t make mistakes. He had worked with him a lot in the past, and to Dal as’s delight he didn’t waste time asking questions.

‘If you’re pul ing me out on a false alarm I’l slap a charge on you,’ Olin said. ‘Is this the McCoy?’

‘This isn’t a false alarm, George,’ Dallas said, and the grimness in his voice convinced Olin. ‘Get some boys and come down to West and Union fast.’

‘Stick where you are,’ Olin said. ‘I’l be right with you.’

Dallas hung up and went to the bar. He ordered a double Scotch.

‘Did you find him?’ the red-head asked, hitching up her skirt so he could see the top of her stocking.

The bartender leaned over the bar.

‘Hey, you! Take it outside and peddle it in the rain,’ he said, ‘or you’l get bounced out on your fanny.’

Dallas said, ‘Pipe down. She’s a friend of mine. Give her a Scotch.’

The red-head sneered at the bartender and gave a little wiggle inside her clothes for Dallas’s benefit.

‘Let’s get out of this hole,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a swell apartment you’l love.’

‘Drink your Scotch and shut up,’ Dal as said. He finished his drink, pat ed her on the shoulder and went out into the rain.

Four minutes later he heard the first of the sirens. In another minute West Street was alive with noise and black and white police cars.

Olin leaned out of the front car and waved to Dallas.

‘Wel , you’ve certainly started something,’ Olin said, as Dallas scrambled into the car. ‘I hope for your sake you can finish it. Let’s have it quick as we go.’

‘Make for Pinder’s End,’ Dal as told the driver, and while the car shot down West Street, he gave Olin his prepared story.

‘The girl’s name is Zoe Norton,’ he said rapidly. ‘She and I sleep together when we’ve nothing better to do. Nothing serious, but I like her and she likes me.’

‘Okay, okay,’ Olin said impatiently, ‘never mind about your love-life. Where’s Baird fit in this?’

‘I don’t know,’ Dal as lied. ‘I went to the club to see Zoe tonight. Like I told you, she works for Rico.

She was missing. She’d been in the club; her hat and coat were in her dressing-room, but she had disappeared. I found her bag in Rico’s office. He had vanished, too. I found out he and Baird had taken Rico’s car and had gone off together. I traced them to Pinder’s End on the waterfront. Then I lost them. I was nosing around when I heard a shot. I was in time to see Rico’s Buick driving away like a bat out of hell. I took a shot at it, and smashed one of the windows. It’s my bet Zoe found out something about those two and they’ve silenced her.’

‘Found out what?’ Olin barked.

‘No idea, but it could be something to do with the Bruce kil ing.’

Olin snorted.

‘You don’t even know if they had her in the car.’

‘Where else is she, then?’

‘Anywhere. You’re sure about the shot?’

‘Yeah, I’m sure about that.’

‘Maybe Baird has rubbed Rico out,’ Olin said hopeful y. ‘I’l get myself good and drunk if he has.’

‘It’s Zoe al right,’ Dal as said. ‘I’m sure of it.’

‘Why the hell should they want to knock off a taxi-dancer?’ Olin asked. ‘Talk sense.’ He gave Dal as a sharp look. ‘Or are you keeping anything back?’

‘You know as wel as I do the whole of my life’s spread out for you to pick over,’ Dallas said. ‘Don’t be so damned suspicious.’

The car skidded to a standstill.

‘This is it,’ the driver said.

Dallas and Olin got out. The three other police cars emptied. The prowl boys stood around in the rain expectantly, looking at Olin for orders.

‘Where did you hear the shot?’ Olin asked.

‘Right here. It seemed to come from those buildings.’ Dal as waved at the high, dark warehouses.

‘Okay, boys,’ Olin said. ‘Get busy. Look these joints over. If you find anything, sound your whistles.’

The prowl boys broke up into parties of twos and began a systematic search of the warehouses.

‘I’m going to the waterfront,’ Dal as said. ‘Coming?’

‘Leave it to the River Police,’ Olin said shortly. ‘I tipped them off before I left.’

‘That’s where she’s going to be found,’ Dal as said, ‘and that’s where I’m going.’

Olin shrugged, but followed Dallas to the end of the alley into what appeared to be a cul-de-sac.

‘You won’t get to the river this way,’ Olin grunted.

Dallas swung his flashlight beam on the ground.

‘There’s been a car here. Look, tyre and oil marks. Where’s that lead to?’ He flashed his light on a low, dark archway. ‘Come on, let’s take a look.’

Olin followed him through the archway into an evil-smelling passage. In the mud and slush that covered the floor they could see footprints.

‘Someone’s been here, and recently,’ Dallas said.

He began to mount the stone steps at the end of the passage, stopped and sniffed.

‘Gunpowder!’ he exclaimed. ‘Can you smell it?’

‘Do you imagine I haven’t got a nose?’ Olin growled, jerking out his gun. ‘Get out of the way. I’ll handle this.’

He ran up the rest of the steps into a vast, barn-like room with Dallas on his heels. The smell of gunpowder hung in the thick atmosphere. Among the other smells Dallas imagined he could smell musk.

‘Look at that!’ Olin barked, dropping the flashlight beam to the floor. A dark-brown stain made an irregular pattern on the dirty boards: close by was a small pile of half-burned matches.

‘That’s blood.’

Dallas spotted a door in the wall. He went over to it, pushed it open. He found himself looking down at the dark waters of the river, some thirty feet below.

‘He killed her and threw her out this way,’ he said, through clenched teeth.

Olin joined him.

‘Looks like it,’ he said. ‘There’s the river boys. We’d better get them working here.’ He flashed his light on and off. In the distance a light answered. ‘They’l be up in a couple of minutes. Wait here and guide them in. I’ll get my lot together.’

Dallas sat on the floor, flashing his light on and off. At the back of the building he could hear Olin’s whistle. The lights of the police launch came closer. By the time Olin had returned, the police launch was bobbing up and down just below where Dallas was sitting.

‘There’s a body down there somewhere,’ Olin shouted. ‘It was thrown in from here. Get busy and find it. It couldn’t have drifted far.’

A powerful searchlight was turned on that lit up a big expanse of water. It made Dallas feel sick to think that Zoe was somewhere in that dark, oily grave. He sat there, smoking, for a long time, while the River Police threw out their drags and systematically combed the river.

It was over an hour before they found Zoe. By that time both Olin and Dallas had joined them on the launch.

‘Here she is,’ one of the River Police said, as the drags came in. Gently he and another cop rolled Zoe’s half-naked body off the hooks.

‘This the one you want?’ the sergeant asked, looking up at Olin.

‘Is it ?’ Olin asked Dallas.

‘I guess so,’ Dallas said huskily.

Zoe had been shot through the head. The big .45 slug had torn a chunk of her skull away. She didn’t look like the Zoe he had played around with. He stood staring down at her, a cold, sick feeling creeping over him.

‘Looks like someone’s been burning her,’ Olin said, in a hushed voice. ‘Look at the state she’s in.’

The sergeant tossed a blanket over Zoe’s broken and tortured body. His usual y red, cheerful face looked a little green.

‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ Dal as said, his voice rasping. ‘Let’s go get those two bastards.’