BY the time I got back to Waxey’s dive and had collected Bogle the full meaning of what Whisky was trying to tell me had sunk in. It was completely fantastic. But, then again, the whole thing was fantastic.
So the girl hadn’t been Myra and Myra had been kidnapped. The sooner I got back to Ansell and put the screws to the girl the better. Now that Whisky had lost the power of talking, I wasn’t going to get much help from him. I would have to wait until he was well enough to take us to the place where he had been attacked. That might give me a clue.
It was no use telling Bogle that there were two Myras. He would only think I’d gone crazy. Besides, it would be a waste of time trying to convince him.
So I left Whisky in his charge and grabbed a taxi. I had told Sam to get Whisky to a dog hospital as quickly as he could and then get back to our apartment pronto. Sam, when he saw how badly hurt Whisky was, became wildly angry and upset. I managed to convince him how important it was for him to return immediately to the apartment without actually telling him details.
It was about the longest ride I ever had in a taxi and I kept urging the driver to greater speed. I don’t know why but I had the jitters all right.
When I reached our apartment block I tossed the driver his money and ran up the steps.
A moment later I was standing inside our apartment and for some unaccountable reason I felt scared. There was the same eerie atmosphere that I felt when I found Quintl’s body. No sound came to me and I called Ansell in a voice that I hardly recognized as my own.
I walked cautiously into the kitchen and looked round. There was no one there. More assured, I returned to the living room. Maybe Doc and the girl had gone out. I was just going to have a look in the bedrooms when something caught my eye which brought me up with a jolt.
From under the sofa I could see something red. I knelt down and looked. It was Myra’s flame coloured dress. It had been screwed up into a bail and shoved under the sofa. This startled me for a moment. I hooked it out and stood up.
As I unfolded it I touched a wet, sticky patch and looking at my hand I found blood on it. Right down the front of the dress was a large bloodstain, still damp.
Just for a moment I thought that she’d been killed and it gave me a tremendous shock. But when I examined the dress there was no sign of a bullet hole or a slit from a knife. It looked as if the blood had come not from her but from someone else.
Throwing the dress aside I went upstairs and blundered into Ansell’s bedroom.
He lay across the bed. There was blood on the floor and on the walls. I hadn’t realized what a little guy he was until I saw him lying like that. The front of his coat was bloodstained and his face was blue-grey. Until I touched him I thought he was dead.
And when I touched him and felt his cold hand I realized just how fond I had become of him and a wild, destructive rage swept through me. If I could have laid hands on the person who had done this I’d have killed without hesitation.
“Doc,” I said gently, scared to lift him, “what is it, Doc?”
He opened his eyes and blinked up at me, but no look of recognition came from him.
“It’s me… Millan,” I said, kneeling close to him. “What can I do? Are you badly hurt?” I knew the answer to that one before I said it. I didn’t think he’d last another two minutes.
He tried to speak, but couldn’t quite make it. I watched his lips move and I put my ear close to them, but I couldn’t hear what he was trying to say.
But he had to talk. He couldn’t go like that without telling me what had happened and who had done this. So I bolted to the sitting room and poured two Inches of Scotch into a glass and rushed back to him.
“Come on, Doc,” I said, lifting his head. “Get hold of yourself.”
The whisky did the trick, but I could see he was going fast. My only hope now was to keep him alive long enough to hear what had happened.
I could see he wanted to talk and I could see he was making a tremendous effort.
“You were right. She wasn’t Myra,” he whispered at last. “She attacked me soon after you left. I asked for It, I should have waited. Look out for her, Ross, she’s dangerous. Its the way I thought. She’s the bad one.” He closed his eyes and I thought he had gone, but he was only resting for a second or so.
I couldn’t really believe that it was possible and yet I knew the Myra we had worked with and fooled with could never have done this to him.
He began speaking again, “They’ll try and pin this on Myra,” he said falteringly. “You’ve got to cover it up somehow, Ross. I told you this might happen. Where’s Myra? What’s happened to her?”
“Now don’t worry, Doc,” I said. “I’ll fix it. You just relax. I’ll get a doctor for you. You’ll be all right.”
“You’ve got to find her and get her an alibi,” Doc went on. “Don’t call the cops until you’ve been through the place and cleaned up anything that might connect her with this. The other one’s bad. You’ve got to catch her and get rid of her before the end of the month. Don’t let her merge into Myra again. She’ll try and do it after the full moon.”
I couldn’t understand what he was talking about, but there was nothing else to do but to listen. His voice was getting weaker and he died as Sam walked in.
When Sam saw Doc he ran over to him, his eyes scared.
“He’s gone, Sam,” I said, getting off the bed. And then I realized the hopelessness of trying to explain to him how it had happened. But, I had to do it. Sam already knew too much and the thought of trying to get this fantastic business into his thick head appalled me.
Bogle took one look at Doc, then he turned and grabbed me. His grip nearly ripped the coat and shirt off my back. I thought he was going to have some kind of a fit. His face was dark with congested blood and his eyes were wild.
“Who did it?” he said, ramming me against the wall. “Open up, you punk, who did it?”
I knew it wouldn’t do to tell him. He wasn’t in a state to cope with a story like that. So I said I didn’t know and tried to break his grip. It was like heaving against the teeth of a bear— trap.
“Take it easy, Sam,” I said, “this won’t get you anywhere.”
He gave a snort and then shoved me away. I banged against the wall and nearly went over. He returned to Doc and kneeling by him he took his hand. Then he began to cry, so I went out quietly and left them together.
When I got downstairs, I didn’t know what to do. I felt sick about Doc. I felt scared for Myra and I wanted to get my hands on the other girl. I didn’t really think of her as the other girl, but as someone who had killed Doc. I went into the sitting room and poured myself out a stiff glass of whisky. Then I sat down and tried to think.
A murder had been committed. That meant the cops. It meant trying to explain something to them that I couldn’t explain to myself. If I didn’t get my explanation over, then Myra would be on the spot. The bloodstained dress was enough to set the law working on her right away. I finished my whisky and picked up the dress. Doc had said to destroy any clue that might point to her. Well, this was the first one to go.
Then the dress was snatched out of my hand by Bogle who had entered silently. He took one look at the bloodstain and he knew she had done it. “Where is she?” he said quietly.
I always looked on Bogle as a harmless sort of a jerk. But not now. He looked like a killer and he looked half crazy.
“We’ve got to talk about this,” I said. “Have a drink, Sam. It’ll pull you together.”
“So she killed him, did she?” he said, through his teeth. “She ain’t going to get away with it. That little punk was good to me. Him and me got along fine until you came along. You and her. You think a lot of that broad, don’t you? Well there won’t be much of her to think about when I’m through.”
“Don’t be a fool, Sam,” I said. “I know how you feel about Doc. He was a swell guy. But she didn’t kill him.”
“What’s this?” he held up the dress.
“Oh, I know it looks like she killed him, but she didn’t.”
“The cops can work it out,” he said, “I’m going to get a load of law here and let ’em find her. Then if she slips off the hot seat, I’ll fix her,” and he went over to the telephone.
If the cops came and found that dress, then I knew nothing could save Myra. She’d be hounded all over the country.
I jerked him round, “Leave the cops out of this,” I said, “we’ll handle it, Sam. Kruger’s behind it. Can’t you see that?”
Bogle wrenched himself away. “Do you think I’m crazy?” he said, “I know you’re nuts about her, but that ain’t stopping me. If we don’t bring the cops in, how do you think we’ll explain about Doc.”
I shrugged. “Well, if that’s how you feel about it,” I said, and moved so that I was behind him.
I didn’t like doing it, but it was the only way. I had to have a little time to clear things and make sure that Myra hadn’t left anything for the police besides the dress.
But Bogle was expecting trouble. He turned and faced me. “Don’t start anything,” he said viciously. “It won’t get you nowhere.”
“There’s no harm trying,” I said and swung over a punch that caught him on his cheekbone. He swayed back as my fist landed, so he rode most of the steam out of it. Then he moved in and his fist caught me in the ribs, sending me against the wall. Bogle could punch all right.
He lowered his hands. “Cut it out,” he said, “I don’t want to hurt you and if you make me mad you’re going to get hurt plenty.”
I thought that was likely. But I could see the mess that was ahead if I didn’t stop Bogle.
I edged forward, “Can’t you use your head, Sam?” I pleaded, looking for an opening to land my right. “I tell you Myra didn’t kill him. She loved that old guy as much as you did. She wouldn’t touch him. You ought to know that.”
“Yeah?” Bogle said. “Then how come that dress? We left her with Doc, didn’t we? Where is she now?”
“Kruger’s got her, you fat fool,” I said, suddenly realizing that we were both wasting time.
“Don’t you see?” I went on, Kruger or some of his mob came here. For some reason they wanted Myra. Doc tried to stop them and they killed him. While we’re bellyaching, they’re taking her further away.”
For a brief moment, Sam looked as if he was going to fall for it, then his eyes darkened again. “The dress,” he said impatiently. “Why should Kruger want her? A guy as big as him wouldn’t want her.”
Then we both saw it at once. How I missed it in the first place I don’t know. I guess it was the shock of seeing the dress and then finding Doc that had blinded me to it. On the mantle-piece was a white envelope, propped up against the clock.
We both made a rush for it. I nearly reached it, but Bogle suddenly lashed out and his fist caught me below the ear, sending me over. It was like the Empire State Building had fallen on me and I don’t know how long I was out. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but it was long enough for Bogle to open the letter and read it.
I sat up slowly and one look at Bogle’s face told me that nothing further I could say would convince him that Myra hadn’t killed Doc.
“It’s for you,” he said in a cold flat voice. “She says she knocked him off and that she’s going away. She’ll write you again when things have eased down,” and he slipped the letter into his pocket. “Talk yourself out of that!”
I shook my head clear and stood up. I had to get that letter. That was enough to send Myra to the chair. That and the dress. I realized the full significance of what Doc had said. The girl who had killed Doc was determined to pin it on Myra. With Bogle as a witness the cops had an open and shut case.
Somehow, I had to explain about the two Myras to Sam. It was the only way to save her.
“For the love of mike,” I said, “will you listen to me? Doc told me what happened. When I reached him, he managed to say enough for me to know how it went. The girl who met me at Manetta’s was not Myra. It was the girl who’s been impersonating her. She’s exactly like her,” and I went on to tell him about Whisky.
Bogle said, “You’re soft on that girl, ain’t you? You’d do anything to save her neck. Well, you’re not kidding me with a yarn like that. Tell it to the cops.”
I never hoped he’d believe it, but I had to try. There was only one way to settle this. I had to destroy both the areas and the letter. So I went into action with both hands. But, I went in much more cautiously this time. I feinted with my left and then hooked with my right. Bogle knew all about that kind of fighting. He took the right on his forearm and came back with a heavy punch to my face. But, I was getting mad now and I rushed him, smothering his punches and driving him across the room. I forced him against the wall and slammed in two solid punches before he drove me away with a stunning uppercut.
I went in again and ran into a haymaker that nearly took my head off my shoulders. I felt myself floating and then I whammed against the wall with a jolt that knocked the wind out of me.
Bogle shuffled across the room after me. As I crawled to my feet, I caught a glimpse of his face and that sent me cold. He was fighting mad now and I’d be lucky to get out of this alive. He banged me one on the side of the head before I was half up and then pumped a couple into my stomach.
Being hit by Bogle was like being beaten by a sledge hammer. My ribs bent every time he hit me in the body. Those slams hurt more than when he caught me in the face.
I managed to shake myself loose and got in a lucky one that sent him back. Somehow I went in and landed one on his mouth. He grunted and I knew he was hurt. But, I couldn’t stop him. He was too tough and he was twenty pounds heavier.
He got in close and hit me four times in the ribs with punches that didn’t travel more than a couple of inches. It felt like being under a pile drive. I felt my knees going and I grabbed hold of him to stop myself falling. He shoved me off and dimly I saw something coming at me. It looked like a football whizzing through the air. I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t even try to get out of the way. Then it exploded on the side of my jaw, and that was that.
I was alone when I came to the surface. I sat up slowly and felt my jaw. It was swollen, but I was relieved it wasn’t broken.
I got to my feet and wandered over to the whisky bottle. The liquor did me a lot of good and a second shot did even better. I wasn’t mad at Bogle. From his point of view he had done the right thing. I’d have done the same if I’d been in his place.
I went into the bathroom and bathed my face. It looked a little better by the time I was through, and as I was leaving the bathroom I heard the wail of police sirens.
Sam was standing in the hall. His face was bruised and puffy, but he looked almost handsome beside me.
We looked at each other. Then he said a little shamefaced, “I’m sorry, Bud, but you had to stick your neck out. My beef ain’t with you, but I’m not letting that dame get away with this. I can’t help it if you’re soft on her, can I?”
I said, “No, but you’re making an awful mistake, Sam,” and went into the sitting room. Then the law walked in. There was Clancy of the Homicide Bureau, who I knew quite well, and a couple of patrolmen and a cameraman.
I heard a lot of talking going on outside in the hall, but I was past caring what happened. I had to wait to see how things shaped, then try to get Myra out of the jam.
I heard Clancy go upstairs to look at Doc. They were up there some time, then Clancy came down with Bogle, leaving the others to work on finger-prints and stuff like that in Doc’s room.
Clancy was a little fat guy, with eyebrows like overgrown shrubs and a blue-black jowl which made him look tough. He usually dwelt behind a dead cigar and modelled his inanners along motion picture lines. He wasn’t the brightest star of the Homicide Bureau, and I was sorry he was handling the case.
He came in and stood over me. “Well, well,” he said, surprised, “Ross Millan! What are you doing here?”
“Hello, Clancy,” I said, leaning back in my chair, “I haven’t seen you for a Long time.”
He stared in astonishment at my face, then he looked at Bogle, “Hey!” he said, “what’s this? You two been fighting?”
“Fighting?” I said. “What makes you think that?”
“Don’t stall,” he snapped, “look at your face.”
“Oh, that,” I shrugged. “That’s the way I wear my face these days. You pick up odd habits in Mexico. Some guys wear beards, some wear ear-rings, I wear bruises. It’s considered the thing in Mexico, isn’t it, Sam?”
Bogle didn’t say anything. He wasn’t quite at ease with the cops.
“Still smart, eh?” Clancy said. “What have you two been fighting about?”
“Oh, we like to keep tough,” I said, “it’s got nothing to do with this business. All kidding aside, Clancy, it’s just our form of self-expression.”
Clancy chewed his cigar and eyed me suspiciously. “Okay,” he said, “we’ll skip that for the moment. How are you tied up in this business?”
I told him in a few words how I had met Doc and Bogle in Mexico, but I didn’t say anything about Myra.
“What do you know about this girl?” He shot the question out as if he’d got a half a dozen cameras focussed on him and a bunch of admirers waiting for his autograph.
“Which girl?” I asked, carefully.
“You know,” he said darkly, “Myra Shumway.”
“I know that,” I said, “but which Myra Shumway? There are two of ’em.” That slowed him down.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, “what do you mean… two of ’em?”
“Look, Clancy,” I said, “there is a lot behind this business that you don’t know. It’s going to be difficult for you to understand, but if you’ll take the weight off your feet and lay off pulling the tough copper on me, I’ll try and explain.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Sam said savagely. “He’s nuts about the girl.”
Clancy hadn’t much use for Bogle, “Clam up!” he snapped.
“When I want a commentary from you I’ll let you know.” He turned to me, “Now, what is it?” he said.
I waved to a chair, “Sit down,” I said. “It’s going to take time and you’ll need all your energy to keep your brain working.”
“Leave my brain out of it. You be careful of yourself Millan. I know you think you’re smart, but if you’re trying to make a monkey out of me I’ll slam you in the cooler as a material witness. How would you like that?”
“Now don’t let’s have threats,” I said, but I was a little dismayed If I were in jail there would be no one to help Myra.
“Come on, Millan, don’t stall,” he said.
I wasn’t going to be rushed. The idea of telling a guy like Clancy the whole story of the Mexican business appalled me, but I had to do it.
So I sat and talked. Clancy sat listening with a drowsy expression in his eyes. He even put a match to his cigar, which let off a rank smell. He didn’t seem to like ft himself, because he let it out after a couple of drags. At that rate a cigar could last him a couple of weeks. This one smelt like he’d had it for years.
I nearly gave up half way, because I could see it was hopeless He didn’t know whether I was crazy or whether I was stringing him. So he just got hotter and hotter until I thought he was going to catch on fire.
“Well,” I said, “that’s the way it is. Someone’s kidnapped Myra and her other half killed Ansell.”
I didn’t mention Kruger. I knew Kruger had a lot of influence and I wanted to go for him on my own without police interference.
“What a story to take to a judge!” Clancy said, drawing a deep breath. “If I didn’t know you, Millan, and if we hadn’t knocked around in the past, I’d toss you into jail right now for wasting my time. Do you think anybody but a lunatic would believe a yarn like that?”
I waved my hand to Bogle, “Your witness, Clancy. He’ll bear me out. Sausage, talking dog, floating woman and the whole set-up.”
“Well,” Clancy snarled at Bogle, “what have you got to say? Did you see this guy turn into a sausage?”
Bogle looked at me and then at Clancy, “I told you he was trying to gum up the works,” he said. “I didn’t see any of that stuff, because it just didn’t happen.”
I half rose from my seat, “Why, you dirty heel!” I said furiously, “you know as well as I do it’s all true!”
“Like hell it is!” Clancy suddenly roared. “I’ve had enough of this, Millan. You either talk turkey or you’ll come down to headquarters.”
“But, I tell you…” I began.
“Okay,” Clancy said, getting to his feet, “come on, the pair of you. I’ve had all I can stand of this. We’ll see what the chief’s got to say.”
I looked at Bogle, “So that’s the way you’re going to play it.”
Bogle’s face twitched, “She’s going to pay for this,” he said viciously, “and you’re not talking her way out of it. If these flatfeet don’t pin it on her, then I’ll fix her, but she don’t knock Doc off without footin’ the bill.”
“Who are you calling a flatfoot?” Clancy demanded angrily.
Bogle sneered, “What makes you think you’re anything but a fallen arch?” he demanded. Before Clancy could come back on this the wagon rolled up to take Doc away.
We all stood silently watching, and when the stretcher came down. Sam began to cry again.