Pulp Crime

by Jerry eBooks

  I had an idea that might lead to something, “Who are your neighbors, Mrs. Quaid?”

  Her lips formed a startled circle and her blue eyes widened. “Oh. I’m sure they wouldn’t harm Horace.”

  I shook my head. “No, probably not. But they may have seen him, and I’ve got to ask some questions. It’s better if I know their names.”

  That satisfied her and she rattled them off. Reynolds, next door, was a big insurance man. Rodgers lived on the other side. Mrs. Quaid had doubts about his redheaded wife. Just beyond was John Korne, a claim adjuster. At the corner, the Gotmillers had a big rambling house. Gotmiller was a foreman at a defense plant. Borden gave me a quick glance and I nodded slightly.

  I smiled and arose. “We’ll have your husband back soon, Mrs. Quaid. Keep calm, don’t worry, and don’t talk.

  That’s important.”

  She arose and took us to the door. She came just to my shoulder. I wondered how in hell Horace Quaid could devote so much time to chemicals.

  Outside, Borden pursed his fat lips and whistled. “Cap, I wouldn’t have much time for chemicals with that dame around.”

  I sounded disgusted. “Swell, now see what you think about redheads. Give Mrs. Rodgers a once-over and a quick questioning. I’ll see the Gotmillers.”

  I didn’t get far. Mrs. Gotmiller had seen nothing and knew nothing. I gathered her husband was a good American citizen. She was hefty enough that it would have been worth my life to argue the point. I thought of our card files and swung away from the subject.

  “Mr. Quaid has regular habits,” she said, answering my question. “I could set the clock by him leaving in the morning.”

  I leaned forward hopefully. “Then you saw him today?”

  She shook her head. “No, I am busy. The children must go off to school and I fix things for them.”

  That’s all I got. I called on John Korne, but he wasn’t at home. No one answered the bell and the place was locked up. I waited for Borden, but he must have liked redheads. Finally I went after him. Believe it or not, he was having coffee and was getting right chummy.

  I was burnt up, but managed to separate Borden and the coffee at last. Mrs. Rodgers gave me the works when she found out who I was. But I wanted no part of those big brown eyes. We were leaving when she gave me the first definite lead I’d found.

  “Mr. Quaid usually walks to the trolley,” she said in a throaty voice. “But I saw Mr. Korne pick him up this morning. Tire rationing gives us all a lot of trouble, you know.”

  I thanked her, yanked Borden off the porch and we drove away. I was still grouchy at the big stiff and read him a section of the rules and regulations. Borden listened with a faraway look in his eyes and I gave up. At the next drugstore, I looked up Korne’s business address and told Borden to drive up there.

  I left him parked outside while I took an elevator to the eighth floor of the Occert Building. There were some railroad offices, an insurance company and then Koine’s Adjustment Service at the end of the corridor.

  In another minute I was in a rich office and talking to a blond man behind a mile of walnut desk. He had hard blue eyes, pale lips, and he rubbed me the wrong way from the start. He wanted to make something of everything I said.

  “Of course, I drove Mr. Quaid to town. I let him off at the corner and then drove to the garage. Anything wrong with that?”

  I held down my irritation by lighting a cigarette. “None, Mr. Korne. We’re only checking Quaid’s movements.”

  John Korne twisted in his big leather chair. “You can check somewhere else. I’ve told you all I know.”

  I tried to get some line on Horace Quaid through Korne, but the fellow wasn’t helpful. He kept picking up papers as though he was mighty busy and would like to pitch me out on my ear. Finally, I had enough.

  I arose. “Thanks, Mr. Korne. It must feel swell to be big and tough.” I waved my hard at his blank face and left the office.

  BORDEN picked me up downstairs and we rolled back to the police station. I was pretty thoughtful and pulled deep on my cigarette. I had the feeling that there was little to show for the morning. Somewhere along the line I had missed the boat.

  Johnson was waiting in the office. He had a list of names as long as my arm. They were men in the plant who associated with the missing Horace Quaid, both at work and in the places where he ate at noon. I looked surprised when I saw Mr. Korne listed.

  Johnson shrugged. “The guy at the restaurant across the street from the plant gave me that. This Korne came in one noon and had lunch with Quaid. They seemed to be friends.”

  I pulled at my lip and frowned at the paper. I tossed it back to Johnson. “Check these with the alien lists and with the Un-American Organizations file. Borden can help if he ain’t still in love.”

  I picked up the phone and dialed Quaid’s number. Mrs. Quaid answered and I fired a question at her. She was clearly puzzled when she answered: “Horace filed no insurance claims. No, we don’t have a car, though Horace could afford one.”

  “Anything happen to the house? Broken window? Small fire?”

  Mrs. Quaid was certain. “Nothing at all, Captain Rex. I am certain of that.”

  I thanked her and hung up. I scratched my red hair and wondered what the hell I could do with that. Johnson and Borden were busy at the files and I swung around to them.

  “Check John Korne. He just misses being kosher, and that’s only a hunch.” There was nothing and I was disappointed. A guy as nasty as Korne had to have something wrong, if it was only stomach trouble. Conners called and I had to tell him we hadn’t a thing. He sounded worried.

  “Neither have I. Rex, this thing’s damned serious. Maybe that formula’s already on the way to Berlin.”

  I swore angrily. “Hell, I can’t watch all the rat holes at once.”

  Conners agreed. “And you’re doing a good job as it is. I’m passing the word to the Navy Department.”

  I growled, “Thanks for nothing, pal,” and hung up. I stared at the black instrument for a minute and then dialed the local G-man office. Agent Godfrey answered. A nice guy. He had me wait and in a minute he was back.

  “We’ve got John Rome. A naturalized American citizen of German birth. Active in German societies, but never affiliated with any of un-American trends. Headed a German building and loan association until about a year ago. Got a lead. Rex?”

  I answered, “Maybe. Let me think it over.”

  I did and the more I went over what little we had, the more I began to think Korne was living up to his name. The man was too antagonistic for an innocent individual. I finally shoved my hat on my head and told the boys to hold down the place.

  I wandered back to the Occert Building and hung around the Western Union counter. I got to flirting with the little brunette there, who had a warm smile and lots of curves. She didn’t know much about Korne.

  “He has interests in New York,” she said, “and there have been some wires from Mexico, about mines.”

  I tried to keep my eyes from gleaming and started to work in earnest. It ended by my taking Mary Sterling to lunch. We got along swell and then I worked things around so that I could spring the works and be sure of her co-operation. She came through like I thought she would.

  She smiled at the badge I was holding below the table. “I can’t resist an officer, can I? Korne’s Mexican and New York messages don’t come through often. Sometimes they’re almost meaningless, talking about Aunt Minnie’s health or a lost dog in Tia Juana.”

  I had something, code, and didn’t know exactly what to do about it. I felt that John Korne had a great deal to do with the disappearance of Horace Quaid. But the old methods of sweating the truth out of him wouldn’t work. I took Mary back to work and was actually sorry the lunch period was over. Then I surprised myself by making a date for the evening. Mary Sterling was a nice dish.

  Back at the station, I called Conners and asked him to get down pronto. I wouldn’t answer any of Johnson’s questions and le
t Borden stew in his own fat. I had an idea that there was only one way to crack Korne quick, and that was to use his own ammunition.

  WHILE we were waiting, I sent Borden to the dime store. He came back with a hunch of white envelopes and some of those little “V for Victory” cards, the White V with the Morse code signs on a blue background, Borden acted like a spanked kid when I started him putting the V cards in the envelopes.

  He was at it when Conners came in. I let Navy Intelligence have it straight from the shoulder. “I got our man spotted, but I can’t prove a damned thing.”

  I quickly sketched over what I had learned and how the faint trails kept coming back to Korne. Conners listened and then he pounded the desk with his tanned fist.

  “We’ll pick him up. Damn it, Rex, we can’t run the risk of waiting!”

  I shook my head. “No soap, pal. Korne’s been highly trained and he’s a good agent. He expects something like the third degree sooner or later and wouldn’t talk for all the kraut in Berlin. I got an idea he’s a Gestapo man or close to them and familiar with their methods. I’m going to use ’em.” Conners looked puzzled and Johnson was staring at me. Conners licked his thin lips. “What methods?”

  I grinned, but I felt jittery. There was so little to go on, I could be a mile from the mark and Quaid’s explosive would be Hitler’s property. Still, desperate odds take desperate gambles and I was willing to back my hunch with my job.

  I pointed to Borden and his envelopes. “We’ll start with those. Borden, you and Johnson tail Korne. I’m going to the garage where he parks his car. Conners, you play along with me.”

  He started to protest, and I could see it was Navy wanting to work independently. But he must have thought of Quaid and he changed his mind.

  His voice was more harsh than ever when he said, “Rex, you’d better be right. I hate like hell to think what’ll happen if you mess this up.”

  I hated to think it, too, but I managed to keep my grin. I picked up the phone find put a call to Mary Sterling. She came through like a million dollars and I sent Borden over with several of these envelopes with the V squares. I stuffed a few in my pocket and gave Johnson some.

  “Drop one in his mail box and slip one in the evening paper if you find it on his porch. I’ll see you near his place in half an hour.”

  I knew they all thought I’d gone batty, but I remembered some of the little stunts the Gestapo had pulled in Europe. Terror and threats were weapons that cut both ways, I figured. Before Conners and I left, I put through a call to Korne’s office.

  His voice sounded nasty even filtered through the wires. I had a handkerchief over the phone and talked through it.

  “You don’t know me.” I said. “We’ve finally caught up with you.”

  Korne roared in the phone. “What are you talking about?”

  I made my voice deep. “V for Victory, Herr Korne. The V-men write that on French walls and rap it on tables in Dutch cafés. In Europe we must work carefully and yet we still have our vengeance.”

  “Are you crazy?” Korne demanded. “Who’s talking?”

  “The Underground, Herr Korne. In America the V-men can strike much easier. You are marked. We waited until you made a move.”

  I could hear Korne sputtering, but I broke right in. “A man disappeared this morning, Herr Korne. It’s your life for his, your freedom for his. You’ll have our sign in a short while. Good day, Herr Korne.”

  I hung up and Conners was staring at me with those fishy eyes of his. “You’re way off the beam,” he said flatly.

  I shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s the only way. Let’s go.”

  Conners had his car downstairs and we drove to the Turner Garage. Conners waited at the curb while I went inside. I grinned at the girl behind the cashier’s cage and shoved one of the white envelopes at her. It was late in the afternoon.

  “I missed Mr. Korne at the office and I understand he’ll be here shortly. Would you give him this note?”

  She took it, and I wheeled away into the crowd so she wouldn’t get too good a chance to remember me. Out in the car again, I directed Conners north, toward Quaid’s house. He drove silently for a while, a whipcord little man, his jaw set at a fighting angle.

  THE Fall Creek bridge was in sight when Conners reached for a cigarette and gave me a frosty grin. “This whole scheme’s your baby, Rex, and you’ll have to stand by it. But, you know, I’m beginning to think you might have a chance at that.”

  I nodded and kept my voice steady. “It’ll work. I know these boys.” Johnson gave us a high sign as we drove by, and we went on around the corner to a filling station. Johnson joined us by the pumps.

  “No one at home,” he reported, “and I put those envelopes around.”

  “Good,” I nodded. “Now we wait awhile. Between us, we can cover the house completely. Borden will pick up Korne when he rolls out of his garage.”

  I called Mary from the filling station and she sounded worried. “Mr. Korne is furious, captain. He’s been down twice already and threatens to call the main office.”

  “You haven’t told him anything?” I asked quickly.

  “Only what you said, that our messenger picked up the notes at the Union Station. I’ve sent two already, each half hour like you wanted.”

  I grinned. “Did he ask who sent them?”

  She laughed shakily. “He’s worse than a quiz program. I told him I didn’t know a thing.”

  I laughed. “Keep on being dumb, Mary, and it’s flowers and the Sapphire Room tonight. That’s a promise.”

  I hung up and then dialed Korne’s office. His secretary sounded funny. “Mr. Korne has just left. Urgent business. Who’s calling?”

  “Tell him Mr. V,” I answered. I heard her frightened gasp and hung up. I turned from the phone and grinned at Conners. “Battle stations, sailor. He’s on his way.”

  It was dusk when we took our places. Korne pulled his car out of the boulevard traffic and turned in his drive. He stopped so hard, the car rocked. Then he cut quickly across the grass to the porch. He paused long enough to take the letters out of the mail box and pick up the paper.

  From his quick, angry movements, I knew he was plenty burnt up, but that was about all I could tell. It wasn’t much to be hopeful about, but I was already in this mess up to my neck. I had to ride the play till it left the rails and I wasn’t feeling too good about it.

  Borden slipped along the creek path to where I waited on a park bench. The big boy was sweating a little. He jerked his thumb toward Korne’s house. “That guy went like a bat out of hell. You sure got him steaming, if you didn’t do anything else.”

  I nodded and kept my eyes on the house. Pretty soon Korne came storming out and went to the Rodgers house. He savagely punched the door bell and I held my breath. If we had been seen around the house, the whole scheme would fall through. A man answered the door, a big man who shook his head negatively. Korne went away again.

  I looked at Borden and told him to hold down the bench. I slipped away and met Conners up by the corner. The little guy had a pleased look on his bony, tough face. “You’ve done all right so far. Rex. Looks like our friend’s worried.”

  I nodded. “He’ll be more worried. In exactly ten minutes, I’m putting his telephone out of commission. You give him the old V-for-vengeance line on the filling station phone.”

  Conners looked worried. “You’re stepping out of bounds on that telephone business, Rex.”

  It made me mad. “Sure. But those Axis boys have been out of bounds for a long time themselves. If Korne’s phone is dead, he’ll have to contact his pals personally and we can tail him.” I looked at my watch. “Get that call through. In exactly ten minutes Korne won’t have a phone.”

  I stood at the corner until I saw Conners turn into the drive. Then I cut between a couple of houses to the alley. I reached Korne’s place unseen and heard his phone ringing. It broke off sharply and I knew he had answered it.

  It was the slim chance I need
ed. I scooted up the house and hugged the wall below the windows. I could hear Korne swearing into the phone and this time there was a slight note of panic in his voice. I knew that he was jittery, maybe not for himself, but for the little scheme he and his pals had cooked up.

  He gave one last blast. “You cannot frighten me. You are one of the worms that fights futilely against the New Order. I’ve an answer for you—Heil Hitler!”

  I grinned wolfishly. Now Conners and I both knew I had played the right line. When I heard Korne slam down the phone I had my knife out of my pocket. I cut the wire where the drop came down the house wall and went through a ventilator into the basement. I pressed closer against the wall and strained to hear.

  KORNE was angrily jiggling the phone and swearing under his breath. He kept it up for a few minutes before he got the idea that his phone was dead. I heard a chair crash over and heavy steps go to the rear of the house. I started for the front and was around the corner before Korne came out the back door.

  I gave Conners a high sign at the corner and then cut quickly across the boulevard to the plain black police car. Borden came waddling from his bench. In a moment, Korne’s car backed from the drive and he started south toward the Thirtieth Street bridge. Borden meshed gears and we rolled after him, the fat boy doing a neat job of tailing.

  He pulled to the curb before an old garage building. Borden drove calmly by, but Korne was so busy getting out he didn’t notice us. He was using a key on a small door when we pulled to the curb, and by the time we were out of the car he had disappeared. We strolled back and met Johnson and Conners coming from the other direction.

  I jerked my head at the garage. “This is it. We’ll have to break in the door.”

  Conners grinned. “Maybe not. I got some gimmicks.”

  He walked boldly up to the door while the rest of us pulled our service revolvers, expecting the little guy to get blasted most any minute. He didn’t and he gave us a signal. We came up fast.

  He pushed open the door on thick darkness. There was a sudden scuffle inside, an oath, and Conners dropped. A gun roared and the little Navy guy was sending lead back. A man screamed and fell. We charged inside.