Pulp Crime

by Jerry eBooks

He took his handkerchief and lifted the wing compact on the dresser. He crossed to the table and carefully lowered the metal box. The powder line on the table exactly framed the edge of the compact.

  Hall looked up from the briefcase. “Got something, Lieutenant?”

  “Where did you find the compact and gun?” Dink asked.

  Hall pointed to one of the chairs. “The compact was down behind the cushion. The gun was over there on the dresser.”

  DINK nodded. “The handkerchief?”

  “Right where it was, on the dresser.”

  The door opened and a fat detective, Donegan, filled the frame. “We’re through down below. Say, this guy Werner didn’t register for Selective Service. Anyway, we can’t find his card.”

  Dink’s thin brows raised. Prentice looked over Donegan’s shoulder. “I got the girl here, Lieutenant.”

  Dink ordered the others out of the room. The girl was clearly frightened and nervous and Dink tried to make her comfortable in one of the chairs. She kept looking around, the room and her hands wouldn’t stay still in her lap.

  Dink lit his cigar. It glowed a few seconds and then went out. He didn’t notice. His bulging eyes watched the girl. She sat stiff in the chair. He saw that she had brown hair and that probably she used the same shade of bobby pin that he had found. He was satisfied to chew on the dead cigar and stare. The girl looked around the room, her eyes rested on the open window and skittered away. She twisted her fingers.

  Finally she looked up, her forehead lined. “I can’t tell you anything.”

  Dink shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Did you bring anyone up to see Mr. Werner today?”

  “I don’t know.” She explained hastily when his thin eyebrow arched. “I’ve brought several to this floor, but Mr. Werner’s wasn’t the only apartment.”

  “Any women?”

  She hesitated noticeably. “Yes, three, One of them was Mrs. Morton, down the hall, I didn’t know the other two.”

  Dink shifted the cigar. “Both of them young? Pretty?”

  She dropped her eyes to her fingers. “One of them, yes. The other was about forty-five.” She looked up and added quickly, “I don’t know w-here they went.”

  Dink smiled. He shouldn’t have done it. He looked like an inebriated gargoyle. “What’s your name?”

  “Ruth Garson.”

  Dink seemed to go into a conference with the end of his cigar, considering it closely. He popped it back in his mouth. “Did you come in here today?”

  The girl’s hands gripped the chair arms and there was strain in her face. She stared at him and Dink fixed her with his bulging green eyes. She licked her lips, then seemed to collapse back in the chair.

  “Yes,” she said in a choked, low voice. “I came just before I reported on duty.” She jumped from the chair and her voice trembled in fear. “But he was all right then! I didn’t have anything to do with this.”

  Dick managed to get her back in the chair. “You’re not accused of anything, Miss Garson. What did you discuss?”

  She had control of herself, “I’ll be fired for this. We are not supposed to become intimate with the guests.”

  Dink touched her arm reassuringly. “I don’t think this will get to the estimable Mr. Jacobs. Let’s have it now.”

  “Mr. Werner had taken me out several times. He was a nice and thoughtful man. We—that is, I thought a lot of him. We were to go to the Sapphire Room tonight. That’s what we were talking about.”

  Dink picked up the compact in his handkerchief and held it before her. “Is this yours?”

  She stared at it and shook her head. Dink replaced the box and shifted his cigar. He patted her arm twice. “That’s all, Miss Garson. This won’t get any further and you needn’t worry about your job. Just give the officer in the hall your name and address. Don’t move unless you inform the police, and don’t try to leave town.”

  She arose uncertainly from her chair, dabbing at her eyes with a cheap handkerchief. Then she pushed back her slim shoulders, gave Dink a half smile, and walked from the room. Dink jerked his head at Donegan.

  The big man came in, closing the door. Dink scowled at the compact. “Well, here we go again, Donegan. This is murder. No guy with a date with a girl like Miss Garson is going to jump out of a window.”

  CHAPTER II

  DINK prowled around the room for a time after the girl had gone. He chewed hard on the cigar and stared blankly at the typewriter and the suicide note. Donegan had eased his bulk into one of the chairs and he followed Dink with his little blue eyes. Dink walked to the open window, stared across the Boulevard to a mortuary mansion and a sprawling-tavern.

  He pulled the cigar from his Ups. “Who lives across the hall?”

  Donegan fished a battered notebook from his pocket and leafed over some pages. “Porter Stanfield, registered from New York.”

  Dink drummed on the window sill a second, then turned. “Stay put. I’m going to call on Mr. Stanfield.” He crossed the hall and pressed the pearl gray button in the white door frame. The door opened almost instantly. A stocky man with wide shoulders and a square-cut face looked inquiringly at Dink.

  Dink showed his badge. “I’d like to ask a few questions, Mr. Stanfield.”

  Stanfield’s hard gray eyes looked, blank. “I’m afraid I won’t be much help.”

  Dink smiled. “You never can tell. You’re Werner’s nearest neighbor and you might have seen something important.”

  Stanfield shrugged and stepped back. Dink walked into his apartment. It was a duplicate of Werner’s except that the windows opened or, a court. Stanfield waved to a chair near one of the windows and Dink sat down, He looked around.

  Porter Stanfield walked to a table loaded with bottles and glasses “A drink?”

  Dink looked longingly at the bottles and sadly shook his head. “No. thanks. I’m always a heel when I drink.”

  Stanfield looked surprised, then grinned. His square face lost its hardness and he looked almost youthful despite the touch of gray hairs at his ears. Dink had a favorable impression of the man. He was dressed in a dark suit that clearly spoke of money. The small diamond on his finger flashed a cold blue fire.

  Dink roiled his cigar around in his thick lips. “You’ve been a guest here for some time?”

  Stanfield poured a drink and nodded. He sank down in a chair. “Yes, about three months. My firm obtains defense contracts for manufacturing plants.”

  Dink nodded, “Have you ever seen the man across the hall?”

  Stanfield nursed the whiskey. “Several times, but only casually. A matter of nodding when we entered the elevator together.”

  Dink looked out the window at the expanse of brick and glass across the court. “You’ve been here most of the day?”

  “All day. I’m waiting for a couple of deals to come to a boil and I wanted to be close to a phone.”

  Dink leaned forward. “Did you notice if Mr. Werner had any visitors?”

  Stanfield looked up quickly. He tossed down the drink. “I really can’t be definite, Lieutenant. I did see one girl leave the elevators and ring his bell. There may have been others, of course.”

  Dink examined the frayed cigar. “Did she have brown hair and eyes?” Stanfield shook his head, “No, she was one of those blonde dames that belongs in a magazine.”

  The bulging green eyes gleamed and Dink pulled at the lobe of his ear. Stanfield seemed fascinated by their size. “You’ll be in town for a while, Mr. Stanfield?”

  The man shrugged. “Not too long, I hope. A week, maybe two, until these deals are finished.”

  Dink arose. “We might need you later on, Mr. Stanfield. You might be able to help us identify this blonde, if she’s of any importance.”

  STANFIELD looked puzzled and scratched his jaw. I heard rumors that Werner had committed suicide. You don’t talk that way.” Dink shrugged and grinned. “A copper was born suspicious, Mr. Stanfield. We’ll tell the papers suicide and maybe we’ll come around to making that o
fficial.”

  Stanfield arose and escorted Dink to the door, “If I can help in any way, Lieutenant, let me know.”

  Dink nodded. “Thanks a lot. You might begin by letting us know when you decide to move.”

  He waved his thin hand and crossed the hall to _Werner’s apartment. Donegan was still in the chair. He had found a bottle of scotch and looked happy. Dink raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re pretty careless, Donegan, Maybe someone poisoned that stuff.” Donegan choked and looked unhappy. He replaced the glass on the coffee table and sat quietly as though waiting for some inner disturbance. He seemed to feel better after a few minutes. “What did you find out?” he asked.

  Dink looked down out of the window. The body was gone and traffic was again moving up and down the Boulevard. There was still a small knot of curiosity seekers at the far corner but they wouldn’t be there long.

  Dink’s fingers played a tattoo on the wall. “Stanfield doesn’t know much. He gave us one lead, though. This Mary is a blonde and a swell looker. Now all we got to do is find her full name and where she lives.”

  Donegan reached out a hand for the whiskey glass, thought better of it and sank back in the chair. “Maybe Werner was playing her for a stock deal.”

  Dink turned. “Could be. Let’s see if we can get a line on his customers.”

  He crossed to the table where the briefcase and papers lay. There were a few letters, a list of prospects with their addresses, booklets describing the strength of the stocks Werner had to sell.

  It didn’t take Dink long to discover that none of the names on letters or lists were Mary. He leaned back, discouraged. Donegan held up a letter.

  “This guy Werner hit them all,” he said wonderingly. “Here’s that hot-shot writer in town, Stanley Crandall.”

  Dink made a wry face. Crandall wrote passionate love novels and made himself a nuisance at the better bars. Dink took the letter and looked it over. It confirmed an appointment for a day or two before. It was signed with Crandall’s flourished scrawl. Dink was about to throw it back on the table when he caught the typist’s initials—M.T.

  He threw his cigar away and fished for another, his eyes grew thoughtful. “I wonder if Crandall has a secretary named Mary. It might pay for us to take a look.”

  Donegan scowled and sighed. “More travelling around! I wish there was a case where a guy could just sit right still and get all the answers.”

  Dink snorted, “Haven’t you any ambition? How do you want to earn your money?”

  Donegan pulled his bulk from the chair, “The easiest way, and I’m tired already.”

  The Garson girl gave Dink an appealing look as they went down in the elevator but he said nothing to her. Dink left the fat detective in the lobby while he hunted up the manager. He found Jacobs in his office, slumped disconsolately behind his big desk, Jacobs pouted his lips distastefully when Dink came in.

  “It should happen to the Mardott,” he complained. “Police all over the place.”

  Dink dropped in a chair. “You worry too much, friend.”

  Jacobs shrugged his fat shoulders. “I’d worry less if you were out of my sight.”

  “You haven’t the right attitude, Jacobs. You’re not used to excitement and mystery.”

  “I don’t want to be. They hurt business.”

  Dink sighed, “No appreciation for adventure, Jacobs, You’ll probably have the misfortune to die very wealthy.”

  Jacobs sputtered a moment, then his eyes narrowed a the policeman. “What do you want now?”

  “For the peace of the Mardott, I can report that the body has been taken away, all of the police are gone but myself and two detectives. I want the keys to Werner’s suite. Then we can lock, everything up nice and tight and there won’t be any police at all—except now and then.”

  Jacobs looked puzzled. “Why lock it, Lieutenant? I had thought to straighten it up and rent it again.”

  Dink pulled the cellophane from a cigar. “Not right away, friend Jacobs.” He grinned at the staring man. “You see, Werner did not kill himself.”

  Jacobs looked shocked. “But he jumped—” He stopped, staring as Dink shook his head. The man licked his lips. “You mean he was—”

  “Murdered,” Dink agreed affably.

  Jacobs sighed, “Oh, my God!” and sank back in his chair.

  Dink lit his cigar. “Naturally, we won’t want anyone messing around that suite for a while, so we’ll have to lock it up for a day or two at least. By the way, Jacobs, did Werner have many callers?”

  JACOBS stared horror-stricken, then visibly pulled himself together. He shuddered. “Suicide is bad enough and now you say murder. What the papers will do with that! My guests will all leave.”

  Dink shook his head and pulled at his big ear. “Not if you play ball with me, Jacobs. I haven’t said a word to the papers about homicide. I won’t, unless I have a lot of trouble.”

  Jacobs licked his lips. “I’ll help you all I can,” he said fervently.

  Dink crossed his thin legs. “Now about Werner’s visitors. Did he have many?”

  “I don’t know. I seldom pay full attention to any one guest, Lieutenant. But the desk clerk should know. I’ll call him.”

  He flipped the key on a desk box and spoke into it. He settled back in his chair to wait, his face showing his dismay and worry. Dick worked hard at chewing his cigar and was well along when the sleek young man came in.

  He answered readily enough. “Mr. Werner had quite a few callers and he was constantly coming and going himself, He seemed to be a very busy man.”

  Dink brightened. “How about women?”

  The clerk hesitated but Jacobs gave him a sign to go ahead with what he knew. The man cleared his throat.

  “I’m afraid there were some. Mr. Werner was not always discreet in that respect. However, he was very quiet and the desk could have no complaint. After all, our guests’ rooms are their castles so long as they do not disturb anyone else.”

  Dink nodded, “How about a blonde? A particularly beautiful blonde?” The clerk’s eyebrows raised. “Yes, there was such a person. She was here several times. She was so striking that I particularly noticed her, begging your pardon, Mr. Jacobs. Her name was Mary Taggart.”

  Dink gave the man a hard stare with his hypnotic green eyes. “How did you know her name?”

  The man blushed. “She was striking, sir, and once there was a telephone call while she was in Mr. Werner’s rooms.”

  Dink’s eyes narrowed. “Did the caller happen to be Stanley Crandall?”

  The clerk looked astounded, “How did you know, sir?”

  Dink grinned and waved the question aside. He turned to Jacobs. “You’ve been a big help. Now if you’ll lock that suite, we’ll leave you alone for awhile.”

  Jacobs gave orders to the clerk and Dink left the office with the man. Donegan waited in a big leather chair near the elevators. Dink ordered the clerk to give the key to the officer on guard upstairs.

  He turned to Donegan. “Rise and shine, Fatso. We’re going to call on the world’s great lover.”

  Donegan looked surprised. “Who?”

  “Stanley Crandall.”

  Donegan’s face fell. “That lily! I’d like to give him a poke.”

  Dink grinned and turned toward the doors, “Who knows what the day may bring, Donegan? Now if you’re really a good boy—”

  “Agh, cut it out!” Donegan growled. “I got a prowl car around the corner.”

  CHAPTER III

  DONEGAN filled all the space behind the wheel and Dink was crowded against the door. The way led northward, up broad Meridian Street where aloof apartment houses and many-gabled mansions stared haughtily at the traffic. Dink watched the houses, a sardonic gleam in his eyes. Police work over a period of years had taken the glamor from extreme wealth. Jim Dink had long ago learned that a debutante will love and kill for the identical reasons that would affect the girl behind the dime store counter.

  Do
negan swung to the east, toward the road that would lead him to Woodbine, an ultra-snobbish suburb of the city. He shifted uncomfortably behind the wheel. “Maybe we could give this Crandall the murder rap. I never liked him.”

  Dink grinned. “Donegan, you’re a cold-blooded monster.”

  “No, it’s just that I never liked that guy.”

  The rest of the drive went in silence. Finally Donegan turned off the state highway into a graveled drive that wound deep into a heavily wooded estate. The house was brick, its long and low expanse broken by huge windows. There were bright-colored canvas chairs in the yard.

  Donegan made an unpleasant noise when he saw the man reclining in one of the chairs. “There’s God’s gift to heels.”

  The man stood up and came toward the car in long strides. He was dressed in an open-throat shirt and cream trousers. He had a narrow face, black hair that was slowly retreating from his forehead, and a hawk nose. His lips were uneven, set in selfish lines.

  His dark eyes flashed and his face was unpleasant as he came up to the car. “You took long enough. Do you think I like waiting for you police?”

  Dink had opened the door. He halted in surprise, staring at the man, “How did you know we were coming?”

  Stanley Crandall threw his long arms wide in a gesture of despair. “Did they have to send the dumbest of a dumb force? I called you, how else?”

  Dink threw a quick glance at Donegan, whose knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel. Dink shifted his cigar. “Of course, Mr. Crandall. What’s wrong?”

  CRANDALL swore luridly. “I told you over the phone. Theft! Someone has taken over a hundred thousand dollars in negotiable securities.”

  Dink whistled. “That’s a lot of dinero. Any suspects?”

  Crandall rolled a lot of dirty cracks up in one smile. “Yes, but you’ll probably let him get away. You’ll probably stand here and argue and exercise your futile brains until he’s escaped.”

  Dink held back his anger though his eyes glinted, and his fist doubled. “You’re wasting time yourself,” he said abruptly. “Name the guy, and your reasons.”