“I get that. Heavy money and high-priced attorneys.”
He frowned at the floor. “We even checked this Goddard girl. She was away at school when Schmidt got it.”
I was tired but I had one more for him.
“Were you in my bungalow last night, early?”
He smiled thinly. “I told you, Jason. When we leave here you can figure I never said a word.”
“You were looking around, maybe for a dirty pair of shoes I could have worn the night Louise was killed…”
He looked at me innocently.
I squeezed out a grin. “And where was everybody when these four calls were made—if you know the time?”
“You re outa line now, Jason. But believe me, it’s the same as nothing.”
I stood up. He looked the way I felt.
“Thanks, Riley.”
“Thanks, yourself. It mighta worked.”
“But it didn’t.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next morning I exercised again, happy to find the wooden feeling was leaving my leg faster than I’d hoped. The old Jason vim and vigor wasn’t going to let me down.
After breakfast I felt so good I decided to walk where I had planned to go. The temperature had eased, a breeze from the west had scared away most of the smog, and the sun was trying to work through an overcast.
Before leaving the bungalow I hung a very fine black thread across the back door, on the inside, took an unhurried look around the living room, fixing objects in my mind. If I was being visited, I wanted to know about it. Going out the front door I hung a string there, too. It was almost invisible.
Every poor bachelor has to have a needle and thread and a bent pin around somewhere. Maybe I’d catch a fish.
The Ford looked just as nice as when I’d seen it last. Somebody had spent a lot of money working it over—and it was possible I couldn’t afford it.
I saw no patrol cars around. Was Riley keeping an eye on it, or was I going to continue being the hunk of cheese for his trap? Comforting thought. I looked it over carefully, including the trunk. Good spare and bumper jack. Rubber mat freshly painted with black stuff all car dealers use. I checked the steering mechanism, kicked the tires. It was obvious, however, that all four were up.
And what was I looking for? Your mind does queer things when you’re in a bind, when your next move may be your last. And what I didn’t know about even old cars would fill a large book. I closed everything up, and locked all four doors. I left it there and walked.
I was glad I had. Cook lived only three blocks away, and why not get some fresh air? I found his house number tacked onto the east half of a modern duplex.
He must have seen me coming. When I went up to his front door he opened it immediately.
“Come in, Jason.” He held out his hand and we shook. A good solid feel to him. Nearly bald, maybe sixty. His bluish eyes were very alert.
“Glad we could meet, finally,” I said.
He waved me into a big chair and plunked himself down on a davenport. The living room was mostly brown panel, mahogany furniture, a big TV set in one corner. He got his pipe going.
“You gave the Jollies quite a jolt,” he said, smiling. False teeth, but hardly noticeable. He pronounced his words correctly.
“It was a mistake. And Fay’s last meeting.”
He looked out of his front window. “I always kind of liked Fay—”
“I liked her, too,” I said. “And that’s part of why I’m here, as you have no doubt guessed.”
“It shows.”
I had a cigarette, feeling uncomfortable. “The police are working on this thing, and I’ve got no business poking around—so I hope you won’t think I came out here ready to accuse you or anybody else…I just thought you might know something that would give me a lead…”
He nodded, puffing away.
“In fact, Riley—the local police lieutenant—told me to keep my nose out of it.”
“I wouldn’t mind knowing who caused her death,” he said evenly.
“I’d give quite a lot, believe me.”
“I rather think you would, Jason.”
I sucked on my cigarette. “And naturally, I’m not very adept at it. I came out to see if you might know something in her past, or something about Louise Schmidt, or anything else. I understand you’ve lived around here quite a few years, and keep your eyes open—”
“I used to visit with Fay—she didn’t mind talking to an old geezer. A lot of young girls never bother. She was a good listener—maybe that’s why she was such a good waitress.” He paused, studying his pipe. “Louise was a stranger, to me and nearly everyone in the club.”
“You think I’m out of line?”
“No, not at all. I wish there was some way I could help. Once in a while I used to go down and eat at Si’s when Fay was on shift. I might have influenced her to join the Jollies—” He smirked. “Funny what vanity’ll do for a guy my age. A chance to get a few worthless poems printed in a journal, and pretty soon you’re going overboard!”
I shook my head. “Nobody should criticize another man’s hobby, unless it might involve his woman or his money—”
He grinned. “Well, it has rather involved some of my own money—but at least I knew where it was going. I’m on the auditing committee.”
“Good enough, Mr. Cook.”
“Call me Ben—everybody does.”
I nodded.
“Like a touch of bourbon—or some coffee?”
“Coffee, please.”
So we had what I had asked for, and chewed things around a while. Since he knew something about Fay’s background, I didn’t object when he started in—but some of it hurt. Her father had been a shack-town drunk and bootlegger and a few other things. Her mother had died when she was quite young, and as soon as she could Fay had pulled out. An only child.
“She grew up along the river, a pretty tough neighborhood. But she made out, worked for her room and board and got through high school. Then she got this job. She told me you had suggested a secretarial or business course…”
I nodded. I was bleeding inside.
“I offered to help her,” he went on. “But Fay was pretty independent. She always thanked me for offering, anyway.”
I’d asked for this, and I was getting it. Every kind word he said about her was sticking in my craw, writhing and cutting.
“Any other relatives around Layton?”
“Not that I know of, Mark. I suppose it occurred to you that somebody could have been after you—it was your car.”
“Oh, they were, believe me.”
He squirmed, limbering his legs. “Then perhaps Fay was just an innocent victim—”
He must have noticed the expression on my face.
“Sorry, Jason. Marie Goddard was in the car, too.”
I swallowed bitter words. “That’s what makes it so damned wild. The fiend didn’t care how many lives were at stake. Not as bad as planting a bomb in a plane, but the same idea. No counting the means to reach an end. I’ve been threatened, but Fay had been too.”
He shook his head. “Is Miss Goddard in danger, too?”
“Yes. I don’t think she realizes how much.”
“I didn’t know. I read the papers—”
“Riley isn’t letting everything out.”
He seemed to understand. I stood up. “Sorry to have butted in, Ben.”
“Oh, I’m not through, yet, Jason. Sit down.”
I did.
He looked at me with those bland eyes and smiled. “I know why you came out, Jason. To look me over. Riley did, too.”
I felt like a sap.
“What do you really think, Jason? Theoretically, I could have gone out and worked on your car. Worn gloves, as the guilty one apparently did.”
“That could be a loaded question.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday, Jason. However, I think at your age I’d have been much less diplomatic. I might have even got a little rough. I cou
ld see Fay was crazy about you, and Marie was really interested, too. You know what Rita was talking about at my table, after you came in? ‘Who’s that guy, Ben,’ and so on.”
“Goody for you!”
He smiled that thin smile. “I was a little jealous, but I got around when I was young myself. I made my share of mistakes—however, you were much more clever than Riley.”
“Thanks. Do I rate a lollipop?”
“Well, what’s your opinion?”
I shook my head, feeling deflated and no doubt looking the part. “I’m sorry, Ben.”
“Quite all right. Relax.”
I tried to, now that I’d had my wrists slapped. “Where was your farm, Ben?”
“East of here, not far out. Lot of it’s subdivided.” I was getting something of another idea. “Did you know Angela Stein or her family?”
He frowned. “That’s rather an odd question.”
“How about it?”
“What’ve they got to do with anything?”
I had another cigarette. “I’m the one who ran her over and killed her…”
His eyebrows went up. “That’s—quite a jolt. I remember now—but it wasn’t your fault.”
“I was cleared, but there is some indication her death is related to this present situation.”
“Odd. Riley didn’t mention it.”
“He wouldn’t. He thinks I’m playing the wrong tune, and maybe he’s right. But if you think back, you’ll remember I nearly got it in a hit-and-run case. This character who’s after me claims he’ll get me to avenge Angela’s death…”
“Well.” He was puffing faster, now. He leaned back, studying me. “Yes, I knew the Steins.”
“You did?”
“Rather. But don’t shout—”
“Sorry—again.”
“I used to buy produce at their little roadside stand. Odd I didn’t connect your name…well, anyway, I used to visit with Stein a little. I felt sorry for them, but they were proud, wouldn’t take any charity.”
I leaned forward, feeling a ripple. “I know they moved away to the coast someplace—but, do you remember if they had any relatives around here?”
“It’s been a long time, Jason. Let me think about it. Seems like there was something he told me…”
I let out a deep breath. “Try hard, Ben.”
“I don’t see how it’ll do you much good, but I will. I’ll call you.”
“I didn’t know you had a phone.”
“It isn’t listed.”
“Listen—let me call you,” I said, not wanting to go into the TT business.
“Quite all right, Jason. Rather an odd sort of family, the Steins. He was very strict—with the children.”
* * * *
Walking back home that vision of Angela’s tortured face coming at me was more lifelike than ever. A nightmare in broad daylight. I fought it and tried to wish it away, but it stayed with me, a succubus gnawing at my brain—and maybe it would be with me as long as I lived.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The black strands of thread were exactly as I had left them. A great five-and-dime detective I had turned out to be…Perhaps a classified ad in the Herald would do the trick: inexperienced snoop for hire, cheap. Knows all of the old tricks, but none of the new ones. When you’re in real trouble, call somebody else.
Early that afternoon I was surprised to hear Goofy Joe clip-clopping across the ramp. I looked out, seeing the familiar shambling figure in faded blue overalls. Joe was in a hurry.
“Come on in,” I yelled, before he reached the door. The mild weather had held amazingly. And the next morning it might be snowing.
He opened the door cautiously.
“It’s all right, Joe.”
He moved in swiftly, standing against the door. He was breathing fast.
“Take it easy, Joe. What’s the matter?”
“Cable didn’ come home las’ night—ain’t been around all day—”
I had an uneasy feeling, as though events were moving too fast, too unpredictably.
“Sit down, Joe.”
“Purty busy, Mark. Thought I’d better let y’u know.”
“Thanks. I’ll check it out right away.”
“Funny fella,” Joe said, easing out the door, shaking his head. “Funny fella—”
And he was gone, blinking and squinting at the unusual February sunlight, hurrying along as though he’d be glad to get back in the basement, out of sight. At the end of the ramp, like a wart on a huge fist, rose Cable’s apartment.
I didn’t waste any time plugging in the phone and dialing Riley’s number. Surprisingly, he was in.
“Jason, still alive,” I said.
“I didn’t figure you’d be calling from the grave.”
“Listen, damn it—” I told him what Joe had said.
“Look, wise guy. Maybe Joe’s wrong. Ever think about getting off your dead butt and checking?”
“You’re so jazzy today. Joe doesn’t make mistakes like that. Just for kicks, why don’t you check it yourself?”
He grunted something about half-witted poets and cut the connection.
Just for the hell of it, I left the phone plugged in. Nothing happened. Maybe some girl would call up and tantalize me.
I wandered around, smoked and waited for Irish to show. Where would the redheaded electrician be? He was away a lot on calls, but late at night I could always see a light on over there.
Pretty soon I spotted Riley climbing the Hillview stair. He made it vibrate. Sergeant Wilson, who had been up here on Riley’s first call, trailed behind. They reached Cable’s landing and Riley hammered on the door. He glanced across at me standing at the window and made a face. I moved out on the ramp, strolled across. I hadn’t walked over it for how long—months?
“You been around here?” he asked suspiciously.
“Nope.”
Riley tried the door knob. It was locked, as I had anticipated.
“Nobody at his shop, either. Sometimes he has an old guy there to answer calls and wait on drop-ins. Well go by there later…”
“Wave a magic wand and get inside,” I said.
“You been watching too many movies,” he growled. “Wilson, see if you can get this damn door unlocked.”
The sergeant bent down and poked some kind of a gimmick in the old-fashioned lock. He twisted around a while and we all heard it click. Wilson pushed the door open. I moved up to crane over their shoulders.
An untidy living room, as I might have guessed. A dirty shirt on the floor. The furniture old and worn. The overall impression, however, was one not of grubbiness but of poverty. It even smelled like short money. An odor of bacon grease gone stale, of dirty socks.
Riley shook his head. He bellowed: “Cable, you in there?”
No answer.
They moved inside, Riley leading. I waited on the small porch, feeling a sharp breeze slip along the cavity between Hillview and the Hill. Percy the poet, getting his kicks…
In a few minutes they came out. Riley looked puzzled. “Nobody home. Hasn’t been for a while, the way it looks.”
“You believe Joe now?”
“So help me, one of these days…you notice anything?”
“Naturally not, or I’d say so. Some days I don’t even raise the blind. Such a lovely view.”
“I figured you’d be a big help, Jason.”
Wilson closed the door, leaving it unlocked. Maybe I’d do some looking myself, later.
“Where does he park that panel of his?” Riley asked.
“Out on the street, or right down there—” I pointed to a paved slot almost beneath us, at the bottom of the roofed-over stair. You came into it from the incline of Fifth Street.
He nodded. “Come on, Wilson. We got more to do than stand here and gab.” He looked at me. “And keep your eyes open.”
I said I would and they trudged back down the steps. Riley wasn’t overdoing our start at a beautiful friendship.
I returne
d to my abode, made coffee and sat down by the window. I’d been a little rough on Cable, as had Henry and others around. Now I felt sorry for him. Poor devil probably dressed as he did because he had no other clothes.
The unlocked door was a temptation. I was just on the point of getting rid of the temptation by yielding, when the crazy telephone rang.
I swore and tipped my cup over. Another stain on the landlord’s rug. I released another useless blast of profanity. I seized the receiver.
“He, he, he, he—ha, ha, ha, ha…”
My jaws clamped so tight they ached.
“Shut up!” I yelled.
More insane laughter, tinny and mechanical as ever. “—I’ll get you next time, Jason. You’ll pay for killing Angela! You’ll pay…”
It ended with a click.
I had the same reaction as before, only more violent. Cold sweat on my hands and forehead. Hands trembling. My stomach convulsed a couple of times.
As quickly as possible I reported the call to the police station. I needed help, any kind of help. I’d poked around and made mistakes…Riley wasn’t in, naturally. Some guy on the desk said he’d handle it. Again I jerked the cord out of its socket. This time I pulled too fast and hard—the raw end of the wire slapped against the old steam radiator, scraping the cast iron so it rasped the nerves, like a fingernail on a blackboard.
I walked around, fuming and cursing. I was still at it when I heard Joe returning, quickly. A glance out the window confirmed the audio.
I opened the door for him. He stumbled in, panting. His narrow chest heaved.
“That—sound, ag’in, Mark—”
I blinked.
“Like I told you—sort of sliding. A little different, but…”
I snorted, pointing to the raveled telephone cord. “It rasped against the radiator, Joe.”
He bent down and examined the fault. He straightened slowly. “Funny…Sorry, Mark.”
“Let it ride, Joe.”
He left quickly, looking downcast. I was restless. I’d spoiled my chance of calling Riley to see what he’d found down at Cable’s shop—but I had a car out front. I hadn’t contacted the car dealer, either.
I slipped on a jacket and got out the front door in a hurry. The Ford came alive quickly. I turned around and headed for town. I’d gotten so damned used to being caged in that bungalow, I’d been neglecting a chance to get out. I didn’t think this spook would try anything in broad daylight.
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