I
As I drove towards Ocean End, I laid out my discoveries in my mind and brooded over them.
In actual fact, I was no nearer to getting Perelli out of jail, but I had a feeling that if I kept on digging, sooner or later I’d get the necessary proof. At least, I had something to work on: which was more than Mifflin had.
Gracie had been murdered because she knew who had framed Perelli. That meant Perelli was innocent, and up to now I hadn’t been 100 per cent convinced. It made a difference.
If I was to believe Mrs. Ferris, Dedrick had been smuggling reefers into Paris before he met Serena. Was this the clue to his kidnapping? Had he decided to give up working for Barratt now he had married Serena, and had Barrett killed him: stag-ing a fake kidnapping to get money out of Serena? That was possible.
My mind shifted to Marshland. Had he anything to do with the kidnapping? Suppose Souki had found out that Dedrick was hooked up with Barratt and had told Marshland? That would have been a nice item of news: the fourth richest woman in the world married to a reefersmuggler. Marshland might have gone to any lengths to save his daughter from such publicity. He might have hired someone to get rid of Dedrick. It might have been his idea, and not Barratt’s, to fake the kidnapping. For all I knew, Dedrick might have been buried somewhere in the grounds of Ocean End. No one had thought of looking for him under four feet of earth.
Where did Mary Jerome come in on all this? Who was she? Brandon had made a feeble attempt to find her, but appar-ently Marshland had had no difficulty in tracking her down. How had he found out where she was? Why had he gone to her? Why had she bolted after they had talked?
I ran my hand over my hot, tired face, and said, ‘Aw, nuts!’ I knew I was within touching distance of the key to this business, but my arm wasn’t quite long enough. I had to get more information.
How was I going to tackle Marshland? He wasn’t going to be easy. After thinking about it, I decided the only way was to be tough. He could either talk to me or to Brandon. The reception clerk would identify him. He couldn’t deny he had gone to the Beach Hotel. Either me or Brandon.
I drove down the private road to Ocean End with the even-ing sun reflecting on the windshield.
The big black Cadillac was parked on the tarmac as it had been parked on my first visit to the house. The two Chinese gardeners were weeding a rose bed as enthusiastically as a man sitting down in a dentist’s chair. They poked about in the rich, dark soil with their handforks, lifting the odd weed and sneering at it, dropping it into a basket and poking again.
The flamingoes were moving about, stiff-jointed, on the lawn below the terraces. Like the Chinese gardeners, they paid no attention to me.
I walked along the terrace, thumbed the bell-push and waited, feeling the sun hot on my back.
Wadlock opened the door. His bushy eyebrows contracted and the eyes under them registered disapproval when he saw me.
‘Hello,’ I said. ‘I’d like to talk to Mr. Marshland. Would you tell him?’
‘Will you come in, Mr. Malloy?’ He stood aside. I am not sure if Mr. Marshland is in.’
I walked into the hall. It was cool and dim after the hot ter- race. I took off my hat, looked inside it for no reason at all, said, without looking at the old man, ‘The password is Beach Hotel. Will you tell him?’
‘Beach Hotel?’
‘That’s right. You’ll be surprised how he’ll react. Do I go in lounge?’
‘If you will, sir.’
‘How is Mrs. Dedrick?’ I asked. ‘I heard she hasn’t been well.’
‘Considering the circumstances, sir, she is as well as can be expected.’
I looked at him thoughtfully, but the old face gave nothing away, so I went into the lounge. It seemed a long, long time ago since I had last been here. I moved on to the terrace again, and looked expectantly up at the veranda where Serena had sat mourning for her loved one. No one was up there. I returned to the lounge, picked a comfortable chair and sat down. The day had been an exciting one. I felt very tired: probably nervous excitement, I told myself. I lit a cigarette and blew smoke at the Mexican saddle hanging on the wall. An enormous bowl of sweet peas filled the room with an overpowering scent that made me feel a little drowsy.
After a while, probably ten minutes, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
Serena Dedrick came into the lounge. She was wearing a simple white-linen dress and a rose in her hair. There were dark smudges under her eyes and a drawn, hard look about her mouth. She looked steadily at me as I got to my feet, smiled without warmth, waved me back to the chair.
‘Don’t get up. Would you like a whisky and soda?’
‘Well, not just now, thank you. I wanted to see your father. Didn’t Wadlock tell you?’
She went over to a big cocktail cabinet and poured two whiskies. She gave me one, motioned to a box of cigarettes on the occasional table by my side and sat down opposite me.
‘My father went back to New York yesterday,’ she said, looking anywhere but at me. ‘What did you want to see him about?’
I sipped the whisky. It was Four Roses, and very good. I wondered why Wadlock hadn’t broken the news and saved her the trouble of seeing me. It occurred to me that perhaps she wanted to see me.
‘I wanted to ask him something, Mrs. Dedrick,’ I said, but as he isn’t here it doesn’t matter. Could I have his New York address?’
‘Is it so important?’
‘It’s something I want to ask him. I could telephone him.’
‘He is going away. This—this business has upset him. I don’t think you could reach him,’ she said after a long silence.
I drank half the whisky, set down the glass and stood up.
‘It doesn’t matter. It isn’t all that important.’
She looked at me now, surprise in her eyes.
‘But can’t you tell me what it is?’
The day after your husband was kidnapped, Mr. Marshland called on the woman who said she was your secretary, Mary Jerome. The meeting took place at the Beach Hotel, where the woman was staying. I wanted to ask him what was said and how he knew she was there.’
‘My father?’
She stood so still she could have been a statue.
‘Yes. He gave his name to the hotel clerk, who would be able to identify him.’
‘But I don’t understand. How could it be my father? He doesn’t know the woman.’
‘He’s seen her and talked to her. I want to know what was said. If he won’t tell me, I’ll have to put the information in Brandon’s hands.’
Her eyes lit up.
‘Are you being threatening?’
‘Call it that if you like.’
‘My father flies for Europe this evening. He’s probably gone by now. I have no idea where he is spending his vacation. He often goes off like that when he wants a rest’
‘He’s gone at a convenient time—for himself.’
She moved to the terrace window and stared out into the garden.
‘You have no idea why he went to see her, have you?’
‘No.’
‘You can’t even guess?’
‘No.’
I joined her at the window.
‘Mrs. Dedrick, there’s a question I would like to ask you.’
She continued to stare out of the window. The flamingoes were looking towards the house, stiff, upright and crochety.
‘Well?’
‘Do you think Nick Perelli kidnapped your husband?’
‘Of course.’
‘Why of course? Why so sure?’
She made an impatient movement.
‘I don’t wish to talk about it. If there is nothing else you want, perhaps you will excuse me.’
‘I don’t think Perelli kidnapped him,’ I said. ‘Has it occurred to you that your father has a very sound motive for getting rid of your husband?’
She turned swiftly. Her face had drained of colour. Fear looked at me out of her big eyes.
‘How dare you! I won’t listen to you. You have no right to come here making insinuations and asking questions. I shall complain to the police.’
She went out of the room. She was crying as she mounted the stairs.
I stood there, brooding out into the twilight. Why had she been frightened? Did she know for certain that Marshland had engineered the kidnapping?
A faint cough behind me made me turn.
Wadlock was waiting at the door.
I crossed the room, paused before him.
‘Apparently Mr. Marshland has gone off to Europe,’ I said.
The old eyes were expressionless as he said, ‘Apparently, sir.’
‘Was it Souki who told you about Dedrick or did you find out for yourself—that he was a reefer-smuggler?’
I got past his guard, as I meant to. It was a shame to do it to him; he was a little too old to control his reflexes, but I wanted to know.
His mouth fell open and his eyes popped.
‘Why, Souki told me…’
He stopped; a little late. A faint flush rose to his face: but he was too old to be really angry.
‘Your hat, sir.’
I took it and slapped it on the back of my head.
‘Sorry about that,’ I said, and meant it. ‘Think no more about it’
He closed the door behind me. Looking back, I could see him watching me through the glass panels. I felt he was still watching me by the time I reached the end of the terrace.
If Souki had told him, Souki had also told Marshland. I wasn’t getting ahead very fast, but I was making progress. I got into the Buick, started the engine and stared across the garden at the Pacific. I couldn’t go on like this. I would have to do something that would bring the secrets out into the open. But what?
I lit a cigarette and flicked the match out of the car. Then I drove slowly down the private road, thinking.
Perelli had told Francon he was playing card with Joe Betillo at Delmonico’s bar on the night of the kidnapping. He had said he left Betillo at ten-thirty. Betillo had said it was nine-thirty. Why? Was Betillo in this or was bribed. If who was bribed, who had bribed him? The evening was before me. Maybe it might be a good idea to check Perelli’s alibi. I was in the mood for trouble. Two girls had been murdered this day. A tall, unknown gentleman in sunglasses had tried to lay me among the sweet peas. The fourth richest woman in the world had told me a number of lies. It might be an idea to top off the day with a visit to Delmonico’s Bar, the toughest dive on the Coast.
I felt in the mood to be tough. I decided to go there.
II
Paula’s cool voice floated over the line: ‘Good evening. Universal Services.’
‘Are you all alone there?’ I asked, pushing my hat to the back of my head and wiping my forehead. The call-box was as hot as a circus tent, and the last occupant had fallen in a vat of Night and Day, the aristocrat of perfumes, to judge by the smell she had left behind
‘Oh, Vic; yes, I’m alone. How did you get on?’
‘Nothing to get excited about. Promise me something, will you?’
‘What?’
‘Never wear Night and Day perfume. It’s horrible stuff.’
‘Why bring that up? I wouldn’t wear it if they gave it to me.’
‘That’s fine. This call-box stinks of it. I’m feeling stifled.’
‘What happened, Vic?’
‘Marshland has suddenly rushed off on a vacation in Europe. That’s what Serena tells me. It’s my bet he was lurking upstairs somewhere, probably biting his nails. I told her he was possibly at the bottom of the kidnapping. She chucked an ingbing and ran off, piping her eye.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Well, she looked scared. I think she’s thought that all along. These rich, well-connected families have a horror of being lagged out of their shells. The butler was revealing too. Nice old boy: one of the old school. I jumped him about Souki, and before he could stop himself he admitted Souki had told him Dedrick was a smuggler. How do you like that?’
‘It doesn’t help Perelli very much, does it?’
‘You’re quite right It doesn’t help him a bit. I’m going to do something about him right now. There’s a small point you might take care of. Will you send a cable to Jack and tell him what I’ve found cut about Dedrick? Tell him to get hustling.’
Paula said she would get the cable off right away.
‘When you’ve done that, shut up and go home.’ I told her.
‘What are you doing ?’
‘I’m digging a little more. The night’s young yet.’
‘Don’t be reckless, will you, Vic?’
I said I’d handle myself as carefully as I’d handle a Ming vase, and hung up before she could ask any more questions.
I got into the Buick again and drove to Monte Verde Avenue. No. 245 was, as Myra Toresca had said, a small, painted bungalow with crazy paving where the garden should have been and a high, overgrown hedge to foil inquisitive neighbours.
I parked the Buick outside, pushed open the low wooden gate and walked up the path. A light showed in one of the windows; a shadow crossed the blind as I rapped on the front door.
The door opened a few inches. Myra asked, ‘Who is it?’
‘Malloy.’
She slid off the chain, opened the door. The passage behind her was dark.
‘Come in. I was wondering when you were coming.’
I followed her into the lighted sitting-room. I was surprised to see her taste ran to frilly cushions, china masks and ornamental dolls.
She was wearing her windbreaker and slacks. Her eyes were heavy-looking and her face pallid. She didn’t look as if she had had much sleep since last I saw her. .
‘What’s cooking?’ she asked as she fetched out a bottle of Scotch, glasses and ice. I’ve been walking the floor since last night.’
Last night! It didn’t seem possible that so much had happened in twenty-four hours.
I dropped into an easy chair.
‘Plenty, but I’m not sure that it does us any good. I’ve a little job on you might like to help me with, but before I go into that, I’ll get you up to date on what’s happened so far.’
She stood before the empty fireplace, her hands in her trouser pockets, a cigarette between her lips, her face set and cold while talked.
I didn’t leave out any of the details, and the story took the best part of a half an hour.
‘I have a lot of facts,’ I concluded, ‘but no proof; and it’s proof We must have. I must build up a case that’ll stand up in court. What I’ve told you makes a good yarn, but Francon couldn’t use it as it stands. The next move is to get the proof, and the only way we can get it is to fight Barratt with his own wea-pons. The first and easiest move is to try to establish Nick’s alibi. He told Francon he was playing cards with Joe Betillo from eight-thirty to ten-thirty. Betillo said he left Delmonico’s at nine-thirty. Betillo is a notorious character in Coral Gables. He’d sell his own mother for a dollar. I’m going out there to-night and see if I can find anyone who saw Perelli leave. Maybe someone did, but is scared to get in bad with Betillo. If I can’t find anyone, then I’m going to get hold of Betillo, bring him here and persuade him to change his mind about the time Nick left. That all right with you?’
She gave a hard little smile.
‘That’s fine,’ she said. ‘If you can’t make him talk, perhaps I can.’
‘We’ll both try. Has Nick any friends? Anyone big and tough who’d help me handle Betillo?
He’ll need a lot of handling.’
Myra shook her head.
‘Nick doesn’t make friends easily. We haven’t long been here. I’ll help you.’
‘No. This isn’t the kind of outing you take a girl on. Never mind. I’ll get hold of Mike
Finnegan. He’s always ready for trouble.’
‘I’m doing it,’ Myra said. I’m a little tired of sitting here, doing nothing. I can handle a gun. I have more incentive than your friend; a lot more incentive. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.’
I studied her, decided to take a chance.
‘Look, don’t let’s have any misunderstanding. We don’t want to kill this guy: we just want to make him talk.’
She gave me a look that sent a prickle up my spine.
‘Get him here, and I’ll make him talk.’
I stood up.
‘Well, come on. Let’s go.’
She pulled open a drawer and took out a .25, checked the clip and pushed the gun into her hip pocket. She finished her whisky, glanced at herself in the mirror.
‘Jeepers! I look a fright. I’m glad Nick isn’t here to see me.’
‘He’d be glad to see you however you look,’ I reminded her and went to the door.
She turned out the light, and together we walked down the garden path to the Buick.
‘Suppose we collect Barratt and make him talk,’ she said as she settled herself in the car beside me. Wouldn’t that save a little time?’
‘I’m not too sold on the idea of forcing a guy to talk,’ I said driving towards the water-front. ‘It might work with Betillo but not with Barratt. He’s too important. He could give us the works, then swear we forced him to confess under torture when he got in the box. That kind of evidence doesn’t stand up.’
‘If you don’t save Nick, I’m going to get Barratt,’ she said in a hard, tight voice. ‘That’s something I’ve promised myself.’
I parked the car in the shadows, a few yards from Delmonico’s Bar.
‘Let’s concentrate on saving Nick,’ I said. ‘There’ll be plenty of time to take care of Barratt if we can’t do it the legal way. Have you ever been in this joint?’
‘Of course I have. Nick used to come here practically every night.’
‘I want to look at the room in which Nick and Betillo played cards. Can you swing that?’
‘I can if no one’s using it’
‘Let’s go in and find out.’
We walked up the five wooden steps that led into the bar. Inside was brightly lit and full of people. A juke-box was churning out the Ha rry Lime Theme. Bi g, tough-looking men propped up the bar. At the tables scattered around the room girls in halters and shorts were trying to convince their male companions that there was more fun upstairs than sitting in smoke-laden room, drinking rot-gut whisky. They didn’t seem to be getting anywhere.
It was the kind of scene you can see in any Warner Bros movie. All you needed was a tracking shot up to Humphrey Bogart and you’d feel at home.
Myra seemed to know her way around. She walked across sawdust-covered floor up to the bar and crooked a finger at one of the barmen.
I stood behind her, waiting for trouble.
Four or five men, as wide as they were tall, who were up at the bar, stopped talking and looked at her.
They looked over their shoulders at me, sneered, turned their attention to Myra again.
‘Hello, girlie,’ one of them said softly.
This, of course, I thought, is where trouble starts. I was a fool to have brought her here. Instead of getting evidence, I was going to get into a fight with a bunch of toughs as big as Carnera.
Myra turned slowly, looked the four men over, said four words with unbelievable viciousness that froze them in their tracks, turned back to the bar again.
Silently, as if they had peeped into a room in which something was going on that shocked even their unshockable minds, they drifted away from the bar and sat at one of the tables.
Myra whispered to the barman, who looked at her narrowly, nodded his head and jerked his thumb to the stairs.
‘Come on,’ she said to me. ‘We can go up.’
We pushed our way through the crowd to the stairs.
‘You have quite a way with you when you’re aroused,’ I said as we mounted the stairs.
I can take care of myself. The bigger they are the softer the centre. I haven’t kicked around with men all my life for nothing.’ There was a cold, brooding look on her face. The barman says Betillo’s got a poker game up here in half an hour.’
‘Will he tip him?’
She shook her head.
‘He’s a friend of mine. What do we do? Wait until he shows and grab him?’
‘Let’s look the territory over first.’
We reached the head of the stairs. Before us stretched a long passage, lined on either side by doors.
‘Room 15,’ Myra said, walked along the passage, paused outside a door, turned the handle and pushed the door open. She groped for the light switch, turned it on and we went in together.
The room was big. Under green-shaded lights was a round table, equipped with decks of playing cards and two wooden racks containing poker chips. There were about ten chairs grouped round the table; a couple of brass spittoons completed the furnishing.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Now where’s the back exit which Nick used?’
She turned out the light and we went to the far end of the passage. A door opened on to a veranda, overlooking an alley. A steep flight of wooden steps linked the veranda with the alley.
‘Right. We’ll wait for him inside. If he shows fight, I’ll rap him on the dome, but if we can, we’ll try to persuade him to walk. He’s no light weight.’
We moved back into the passage again.
‘Any of these other rooms empty, do you know?’
‘Look and see,’ she said, opened the first door she came to and groped for the light switch. There was an angry yell, and a flood of violent language, and she turned off the light hurriedly.
‘That one isn’t,’ she said, moved to the next door.
‘Wait a minute,’ I said, grabbing her arm. ‘We’ll have a riot up here if you keep doing that. Let’s try the door opposite 15.
We went farther down the passage and paused outside the door opposite 15. I rapped gently. There was a sound of movement and the door opened.
A tall, tired-looking blonde in a none-too-lean wrap peered at me. Her painted face brightened a little, the smudged lips forced a smile.
‘Hello, honey, looking for me?’
Then she saw Myra and her face turned to stone.
‘What do you want?’
Her face was familiar. My mind groped back into the pa remembered a night when I’d been in trouble, had come through the skylight into this passage and the blonde had saved me.
‘Remember me? We had a little fun about two years back,’ I said, moving so the light from her room fell on my face. I went out of the window with half the cops in Coral Gables after me.’
She stared, frowned, then her face brightened again.
‘Jeepers! I’d forgotten you. I remember. You spoilt one of my best sheets, sliding out of that window. What are you doing here ? More trouble ?’
‘Could we come in and talk?’
She looked at Myra.
‘She too?’
‘Yeah; this is business.’
She must have remembered I hadn’t been tight-fisted last time we met, and she stood aside.
‘Well, come on in. It’s not much of a place for visitors,’ she meant Myra.
We went into the room which was small and stuffy and skimpily furnished. A bed, a chest of drawers, a toilet basin and a threadbare rug were the only luxuries it could boast of.
‘I never got your name last time,’ I said, propping myself up against the wall.
‘Lola,’ the blonde said and sat on the bed. She wasn’t at ease with Myra in the room.
Myra rested her hips against the toilet-basin. She looked around the room with unconcealed curiosity. Lola watched her, waiting for some remark that didn’t come.
‘I’m after Betillo again,’ I said quietly. ‘Remember? The last time we met I’d been to see him with a club in my hand.’
‘What’s he done to you this time?’ Lola asked, looking interested. ‘I still hate that heel.’
‘Nothing to me personally, but to her boy friend.’ I said, waving a hand towards Myra. ‘Nick Perelli.’
Lola’s eyes opened.
‘The guy who snatched Dedrick?’ she asked. ‘Gee! I’ve been reading about that business.’ She looked enviously at Myra. ‘Did your honey get away with five hundred grand?’
‘Wait a minute,’ I said hastily as Myra’s pale little face hardened. ‘You’re on the wrong number. Perelli didn’t pull the Dedrick snatch. He was framed for it. He was playing cards with Betillo at the time of the kidnapping, but Betillo has sold him to the cops. That’s why I want Betillo.’
‘That rat would sell his first-born to the cops,’ Lola said in disgust.
I had a sudden idea.
‘You didn’t see Perelli leave, did you?’
‘Leave where? What do you mean?’
‘He was playing cards with Betillo in Room 15. He said he left Betillo at ten-thirty. Betillo said it was nine-thirty. The kidnapping took place just before ten.’
Lola closed her eyes in the effort to think.
‘I don’t remember seeing him,’ she said at last. ‘But then I see so many men during the evening, honey,’
‘He wore a white linen suit,’ Myra said. ‘A navy blue shirt and a white, hand-painted tie.’
Lola gaped.
‘Was that the guy? Why, sure I know him. He told me his name was—’ She broke off suddenly and, probably for the first time in twenty years, she blushed.
There was a heavy, electric silence.
Myra said, ‘Go ahead: don’t mind me. Was he with you ON that night?’
Lola jumped to her feet; her face still red, but her eyes angry and hard.
‘Get out, you two! I’m talking too much. Go on, beat it. I’ve said all I’m going to say.’
‘Don’t get excited,’ I said soothingly. ‘This is important Lola. Perelli’s in a jam. If you can help him, you’ve got to do it. If you know he left here at ten-thirty, you can save his life. Was he with you on that night?’
Lola gave Myra a quick, calculating look.
‘I’m not talking,’ she said curtly. ‘Get out; both of you!’
‘All right, Myra,’ I said, and went to the door, opened it and jerked my thumb. Wait for me in the car. I have a little business deal to settle with Lola. I’ll join you in a couple of minutes.’
‘How about Betillo?’ Myra said. ‘He’ll be up here any minute now.’
‘Never mind Betillo. Wait for me in the car.’
She went out, her back very straight, her face white. I closed the door.
‘That was a bit of bad luck,’ I said, took out a pack of cigarettes and offered it to her.
She looked at me, grimaced, and took the cigarette.
‘Think twice the next time you make up your so-called mind to bring a woman into a hole like this,’ she said savagely. ‘What kind of spot do you think you’ve put me in?’
‘Yeah; I’m sorry, but I wasn’t to know. As it turns out, it may be a lucky break. Don’t be coy with me, Lola; was Perelli with you?’
‘Of course he was. He played cards with Betillo and then came over to me. I was always seeing him. He’s one of my regulars.’
‘Remember what time he left you?’
‘It would be about half past ten. I don’t remember to the minute.’
‘That’s swell,’ I said sarcastically. ‘So Betillo was telling the truth and Perelli was lying.’
She didn’t say anything.
I guess he didn’t want Myra to know what he was up to,’ I said, and shook my head. ‘He must have gambled on Betillo backing up his story. You may have to be a witness, Lola. He’s got to have an alibi.’
‘I don’t care.’ she said, shrugging, ‘but she will. I know her type. She thinks once a man falls in love with her he’s hers for keeps. It doesn’t work out that way.’
I took out a hundred-dollar bill.
I owe you this for spoiling that sheet of yours. Keep your mouth shut about Perelli, Lola. I’ll tell you if we want you at the trial.’
She took the bill, folded it and pushed it down the top of her stocking.
‘What pigs men are.’ she said, and threw the half-smoked cigarette contemptuously into the fireplace.
III
I opened the Buick door, slid under the wheel and trod on the starter.
Myra was smoking, a brooding look on her face.
‘So we don’t touch Betillo?’ she said in a low, flat voice.
‘As it happened,’ I said, not looking at her, ‘he was telling the truth. Nick parted company with him at nine-thirty.’
‘And spent an hour with that awful, washed-out blonde,’ Myra said. ‘Lovely for him. I hope he enjoyed himself.’
I drove with exaggerated care up Monte Verde Avenue.
‘He’s risking his neck to keep it quiet,’ I said. ‘There’s that in his favour.’
‘Oh, shut up!’ Myra said, her voice unsteady. ‘You don’t have to make a case out for him. There wasn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t have done for him: not a thing. When he was in jail, I waited for him. When he came out, I was right on the doorstep. When he was short of money, and he was always short of money, I kept him going. I’ve been walking the floor all last night, worrying about him. And he has to cheat with a hustler like that in a sordid little room, and pay for it.’
‘You’re breaking my heart,’ I said. ‘Okay, so he cheated on you. So what? You don’t have to stand by him now. You’re free. There’re hundreds of men who’ll give you a good time. What are you worrying about?’
She swung round in her seat, catching her breath, her face tight with rage.
I grinned at her.
‘Get off your high horse, honey. It doesn’t suit your complexion.’
She started at me, bit her lip and managed a wry smile. ‘I guess you’re right. They’re all alike. I wish I didn’t love that heel. If he ever gets out of this mess, I’ll have something to say to him. He’ll be allergic to blondes for the rest of his life by the time I’ve finished with him!’
I pulled up outside her bungalow.
‘Go to bed and get some sleep. I have to do a little more thinking.’
‘What’s the matter with going to the police and getting them to talk to that blonde? Won’t her evidence get Nick out?’
I shook my head.
‘Not a hope. They wouldn’t believe her, for one thing. A woman like that hasn’t any standing in a court of law. There’s no other witnesses. Nick realized that.’
‘So tonight’s been so much waste of time?’
‘That’s right. I’ve got to cook up another angle. ‘I’ll keep in touch.’
I leaned across her and opened the door.
‘Don’t worry. You may not think it, but we’re making progress. We’ll have made some more by tomorrow. So long for now.’
She put her hand on my arm.
‘Thanks for what you’ve done so far. Keep trying. I want that heel back.’
I watched her walk up the path to the dark little bungalow, then engaged gear and drove away.
IV
As I drove along the wide track that led through the sand dune to my cabin, the headlights of the Buick picked out a big battle-ship of a car parked outside my front gate.
I slowed down, threw out the clutch, shifted into neutral and cruised to a standstill.
I got out of the Buick and walked over to the car. The tight from the dashboard reflected on Serena Dedrick’s pale, set face. She turned her head and we looked at each other through the open window.
‘I hope you haven’t been waiting long,’ I said, startled to find her here outside my cabin.
‘It doesn’t matter. I want to talk to you.’
‘Come in.’
I opened the car door.
She got out, holding a crimson silk wrap closely to her. She made a lovely, impressive figure of beauty in the moonlight. Silently, we walked together up the path that led to the veranda.
‘I opened the front door, switched on the light and stood inside, wondering what she wanted.
‘She went into the lounge. I followed, closed the door, and turned on the standard lamp by the settee.
‘Would you like a drink or coffee?’
‘Nothing,’ she said curtly, and sat down on the settee. The wrap fell open. She had certainly dressed for the occasion. The white satin dress, the skirt heavy with gold brocade, was fit for a State ball. Diamonds glittered at her throat. A diamond bracelet, four inches wide, imprisoned her left wrist. She seemed determined I shouldn’t forget she was the fourth richest woman in the world.
I poured out a stiff whisky, carried the glass to my favourite armchair and sank into it. I felt tired and a little depressed. All the way from Myra’s bungalow I had been racking my brains to find a way of cracking this case, but it was like hammering my head against a brick wall.
Then, being suspicious by nature, an idea floated into my head. I considered it, decided it was a sound one, got to my feet again, crossed the room and thumbed down an electric switch on the wall. Then I came back to the chair again and sat down.
Serena watched me, under down-drawn eyebrows.
‘I have a telephone connection in my bedroom. It wasn’t switched through,’ I explained; went on, ‘Well, now, Mrs. Dedrick, what can I do for you?’
‘I want you to stop interfering with this kidnapping case,’ She said.
I sipped a little whisky, stared at her, not very surprised, but taking her believe I was.
‘Are you serious?’
Her mouth tightened.
‘Of course I am. You’re being a nuisance. You’re prying into things that don’t concern you. The police have made an arrest. I’m satisfied that this man kidnapped my husband. There is no point in you stirring up more trouble.’
I lit a cigarette, tossed the match into the fireplace, and blew a little cloud of smoke to the ceiling.
‘The man the police have arrested didn’t do the job, Mrs. Dedrick. He happens to be a friend of mine. I shall continue to investigate this business until I have cleared him.’
She went very pale and her eyes lit up. Her hands became fists in her lap.
‘I am willing to pay you to stop being a nuisance,’ she said in a hard, tight voice.
‘The number of times beautiful women with more money than ethics have tried to bribe me to give up a case really astonishes me,’ I said. ‘Sorry. I’m not interested.’
‘You can name your price,’ she said, her voice edged with anger.
‘Yeah, I’m sure, but I’m still not interested. If that’s all you have to say, I’ll turn in. I’m tired.’
‘Fifty thousand dollars,’ she said, watching me.
I grinned at her.
‘We’re bargaining for a man’s life, Mrs. Dedrick. If I don’t go on working on this case, Perelli will go to the gas chamber. Do you seriously mean that’s what you want?’
‘I know nothing about Perelli. I’m not interested in him. If he is tried and found guilty, then he is guilty. I will give you fifty thousand dollars to go away for a month. Will you take it?’
‘I can’t go away for a month, Mrs. Dedrick. I’m busy trying to find out who kidnapped your husband.’
‘Seventy-five thousand!’
‘What are you scared of? What don’t you want me to find out?’
‘Seventy-five thousand!’ she said.
‘What’s happened to Dedrick? Did someone hit him too hard? Have you discovered your father’s at the back of this, and you want to buy his life? Or is it purely selfish motives and you don’t want the great American public to know you were taken for a ride by a reefer-smuggler?’
‘A hundred thousand!’ she said, through white lips.
‘Not a million!’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘So save your breath. I’m going ahead with this job, and I’m going to finish it. Good night!’
She stood up. There was a dangerous stillness about her that made me look quickly to see if she had a sandbag with her, but she hadn’t. In the mood she was in now I wouldn’t put it past her to shoot me.
‘Are you sure?’ she said.
‘I said, good night. You can’t expect always to get your own way. Run along, Mrs. Dedrick. You bore me.’
‘There’s another way of taking care of you,’ she said with a cold, set smile. ‘I’ll give you one more chance. Two hundred thousand.’
‘Get out!’ I said, and crossed the room to throw open the door.
She went quickly to the telephone, dialled, waited a second then screamed in a voice that made me nearly jump out of my skin : ‘Police! Help! Come at once!’
She dropped the telephone and turned to me, the set smile still on her lips.
‘Very smart,’ I said, and sat down. ‘What am I supposed to be doing? Criminal assault?’
She put her hand on the front of her dress and ripped it down. Then she dug her nails into her shoulder and clawed into her white flesh, leaving four angry red marks on her skin. She ran her fingers through her hair. She kicked over a table, pushed the settee into the fireplace, scuffed up the rug. As she walked across the room to disarrange more furniture, I reached for the telephone, dialled, and waited.
‘Hello?’ Paula said.
‘I’m in trouble. Come over here fast. You know what to do, collect Francon and get down to Police Headquarters as fast as you can. In five minutes I’ll be on a charge of criminal assault. Mrs. Dedrick is setting the stage now.’
‘I’ll be with you,’ Paula said and hung up.
I dropped the receiver back on its cradle and lit a cigarette.
‘While you’re about it, I’d let my stockings down if I were you. It always gives a more authentic picture,’ I said gently.
‘You’ll be sorry you didn’t take the money, you stupid fool,’ Serena said. ‘They’ll give you two years for this.’
‘Pity you scratched yourself,’ I said, shaking my head at her. ‘Rather a wasted effort. They won’t find your skin under my nails, and they always look.’
A car drew up outside with a squeal of brakes. Serena gave a wild, piercing scream and went staggering out on to the veranda.
I didn’t move.
Feet pounded up the garden path.
‘All right lady. We’re here,’ a man bawled.
Sergeant MacGraw loomed in the doorway, a snarl on his face and a gun in his hand.
‘One move and you get it!’ he bellowed, glaring at me.
‘Don’t be dramatic,’ I said, tapping ash on to the floor. ‘She’s kidding.’
‘Yeah? She looks like it. Stand up and put your hands up!’
I stood up and put my hands up. He came in cautiously.
‘Well, well, a sex-maniac, huh? I always thought you were a screw.’
A uniform cop came in supporting Serena, who collapsed into a chair. Her scratches were bleeding now, and blood ran over her white brassiere and on to her dress. She looked the part all right.
‘Holy cow!’ MacGraw gasped. ‘It’s Mrs. Dedrick! Here you, put the cuffs on that punk.’
The cop came over and snapped handcuffs on my wrist. He gave me a light punch on the chest.
‘It’s going to be an awful long time before you see another woman, Bud,’ he said in an undertone.
MacGraw was fussing over Serena. She was crying and trembling. He got her a drink and stood over her, his heavy face red and embarrassed, and every so often he kept muttering. ‘Holy cow!’ and scratched his jaw.
‘Give me my wrap,’ she said suddenly. ‘I’m all right now. I came here to talk to him about my husband. Without warning he—he flew at me like an animal.’
‘No animal would fly at you, baby,’ I said gently. You’d be surprised how fussy animals are.’
MacGraw spun round and hit me across the mouth with the back of his hand.
‘Wait till I get you to the station,’ he snarled. I’ve been waiting years just for this moment.’
‘Enjoy yourself,’ I said. ‘It’s not going to last long.’
‘Do you feel like coming down to Headquarters, ma’am?’ MacGraw asked. ‘You needn’t if you don’t feel like it.’
‘Of course. I wish to see Captain Brandon. This man must be taught a lesson.’
‘He will,’ MacGraw said and showed his teeth. ‘Well, if you’re ready, ma’am, we’ll go.’
The cop grabbed me by the arm and shoved me to the door.
‘Bend your nightstick over his skull if he tries anything funny,’ MacGraw said.
The cop and I got in the back of the police car; Serena and MacGraw got in the front.
Paula’s small convertible flashed past us as we turned the bead into Orchid Boulevard.
V
Mifflin was going off duty as we all tramped into the charge-room. He had his hat and coat on, and was leaning up against the desk, giving the sergeant in charge his final instructions.
When he saw the handcuffs on my wrists, his eyes grew round. He looked from me to MacGraw.
‘What’s buzzing?’ he demanded. ‘What have you got this guy here for?’
MacGraw puffed himself out with righteous indignation.
‘Charge of rape, Lieutenant,’ he said. ‘This rat assaulted Mrs. Dedrick. I got there just in time.’
Mifflin’s face was a study. His eyes grew to the size of doorknobs.
‘Is that right, ma’am?’ he said, gaping at Serena. ‘You’re charging Malloy?’
‘Yes,’ she said curtly. ‘Where is Captain Brandon?’
‘He’s off duty tonight,’ Mifflin said, and there was a note of relief in his voice. ‘Get Mrs. Dedrick a chair.’
As she sat down, she let her wrap fall open and both Mifflin and the desk sergeant had a view of the damage. Mifflin sucked in his breath and looked at me in reproachful horror.
‘Did you do that?’ he demanded.
I said I didn’t do that
MacGraw swung his fist at me, but Mifflin, moving much faster than I expected a man of his size to move, shoved MacGraw away, sending him reeling.
‘Cut it out!’ he said sharply. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
MacGraw snarled at me.
‘I want to get this rat downstairs.’
‘Shut up!’ Mifflin said. He turned to Serena. ‘What happened?’
‘I went to talk to him about finding my husband,’ Serena told him, her voice level and hard. ‘I hadn’t been in his place more than five minutes, when he suddenly caught hold of me. There was a struggle. I managed to get to the ‘phone and call for help. Then he tore my dress and scratched me. Fortunately the officer arrived as he was overpowering me.’
Mifflin pushed his hat to the back of his head and mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. He looked stricken.
‘Don’t get worked up,’ I said smoothly. ‘She’s lying. I suggest we go somewhere private. She, you and me. This isn’t anything she’ll want the Press to get hold of.’
‘I want the Press in here!’ Serena said. ‘I intend to ruin him. I want the widest publicity possible. He’s to be charged and imprisoned and forced out of business!’
Paula came in at this moment, carrying a leather-bound box She was breathing quickly, and for the first time in her life she looked disheveled. Her hair was all over the place, the light overcoat she was wearing was wrongly buttoned up, and the legs of her trousers looked like twin concertinas.
‘I couldn’t get Francon,’ she said, trying to get her breath. ‘He wasn’t in. They haven’t charged you yet?’
MacGraw caught hold of her arm.
‘You’ve no right in here. Get out!’
‘Lay off!’ Mifflin said. ‘What do you want?’ he went on to Paula as MacGraw reluctantly released her.
Paula put the box on a nearby table, opened it to reveal the small gramophone on which was a record.
‘You may remember, Mrs. Dedrick,’ I said quietly, ‘that just before we had our interesting conversation I turned down a switch, telling you it was a telephone extension switch. Actually it set a recording machine into motion. When I entertain wealthy women alone and at night, I take care they don’t bring an assault charge against me.’
Serena looked as if she could kill me.
‘He’s lying!’ she said. ‘Charge him! What are you waiting for.’
‘Go ahead and play it,’ I said to Paula.
Paula set the turn-table spinning and lowered the needle on the record.
Everyone was transfixed when my voice came out of the box with a clearness that was almost painful.
When Serena’s voice said: You can name your price, s he started out of her chair and made a dart at the gramophone but Paula blocked her off.
‘Stop it!’ Serena cried. ‘I don’t want to hear any more! Stop it!
I nodded to Paula, who lifted the needle.
‘Better let it run through, Mrs. Dedrick,’ Mifflin said gently. ‘Or are you withdrawing the charge?’
She drew herself up. She made quite a regal figure. For a couple of seconds she stared right at me, her eyes glittering dangerously, then she walked to the door, opened it and went out, leaving the door open.
No one moved or said anything until her footfalls died away down the stone passage.
‘Take the cuffs off,’ Mifflin said shortly.
MacGraw took them off, looking like a tiger who had lost its dinner.
‘Well, you certainly know how to take care of yourself,’ Mifflin said with unconcealed admiration. ‘That was quite a jam you were in.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, massaging my wrists. ‘Let’s go to your office. I want to talk to you.’ I looked over to Paula, who was closing the lid of the gramophone. ‘Nice, quick work. What did I do? Got you out of bed?*
‘You got me out of a bath,’ Paula said. ‘If you’re not going to get into any more trouble, I’d like to go back to it.’
‘Go ahead, and thanks, Paula. You saved me from the tigers,’ and I gave MacGraw a grin.
He walked out of the room, the back of his neck purple.
When Paula had gone, and Mifflin and I were seated in his overheated office, I said, ‘If this case breaks the way I think it could break, there’s going to be an awful stink in the Press, Tim.’
Mifflin groped hopelessly in his pocket for a cigarette, found none and raised eyebrows at me.
‘Gimme a butt. What do you mean—stink?’
I gave him a cigarette, lit one for myself.
The chances are Marshland’s behind the kidnapping: Ded-rick’s a reefer-smuggler, working in with Barratt. He looks after the Paris end of the business. It’s my bet Marshland found out about him and hired someone to get him out of the way. That’s why Mrs. Dedrick wanted to buy me off.’
Mifflin looked startled. ‘Then where the hell’s Dedrick?’
‘That’s what I want to know. I have an idea Barratt could tell us. There’s a new character on the scene who knows as much about it as Barratt: a tall broad-shouldered fella who wears a fawn suit and a white felt hat’
‘We’re looking for him. So it was you who phoned in that tip?’
‘Yeah; I had a job to do, otherwise I would have hung around. Did you get the clue in the refuse bin?’
‘He stayed the night there, huh?’
‘Must have done.’
‘Well, we’re looking for him. What makes you think Marshland’s hooked up with the kidnapping?’
I told him what I had found out at the Beach Hotel.
‘According to Mrs. Dedrick, he’s skipped to Europe, but I don’t believe it.’
‘Maybe I’d better go up there and see if I can talk to him,’ Mifflin said.
‘Look, will you hold back until tomorrow afternoon? Suppose you got evidence that Barrett’s a reefer-smuggler. Think you could make him talk?’
Mifflin smiled grimly.
‘We could try.’
‘Know where I can get some reefers: about a couple of hundred of them?’
‘The Narcotic Squad would have some. Why?’
‘Let’s have them. Barratt’s not the only one who can plant evidence. You’ll get a tip some time tomorrow where you’ll find two hundred reefers in his room. You take him in, and bounce him around. He doesn’t look as if he’d stand a great deal of toughing up. I think he’ll squeal.’
Mifflin’s eyes widened.
‘I can’t do that! If Brandon found out…’
‘Who’s going to tell him?’
He stared at me, scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully, shook his head.
‘I don’t like it, Vic.’
‘Nor do I, but there’s no other way to swing it. Let’s have the stuff.’
‘Well, all right. We’re going to look pretty wet if he doesn’t talk.’
‘That’s up to you. Turn MacGraw loose on him. He’s feeling frustrated he didn’t get his hands on me.’
Mifflin went out of the room. He was away for about twenty minutes. He came back with a small wooden box.
‘I had to tell the Narcotic Chief why I wanted these. He’s been wanting to get his hands on Barratt for months. He welcomes the idea.’ Mifflin looked shocked ‘Some cops just haven’t any ethics.’
I took the box and stood up.
‘Nor have I when I deal with a rat like Barratt.’
‘Watch out, Vic. I didn’t like the look that Dedrick woman gave you.’
‘Nor did I. How’s Perelli?’
‘He’s all right, Francon saw him this morning. You don’t have to worry about him; anyway, just yet.’
‘Any chance of seeing him?’
‘Not a chance. Brandon’s put a special guard on him. No one except Francon can go near him.’
‘When you get your hands on Barratt, make him talk, Tim. I have a hunch he can blow the lid right off this case.’
‘I’ll get it out of him if he knows anything,’ Mifflin promised.
I collected the gramophone from the charge-room, went into the street to call a taxi.
The time was ten minutes to eleven.
It had been quite a day.