Death Comes Early

by William R. Cox

  “What the hell are you, guardian of morals?”

  “It’s just I like Miss Lila so much.”

  “Well, bless you, Tiny Tim. And nuts and carry six.” Taxi drivers, he thought, will some day rule the world. He went across the walk and up steps and rang a bell. There were two flats, or apartments, in the brick house, one up, one downstairs. Lila was on the second floor. There was a speaking tube and he heard her voice, breathless, worried, and identified himself and she pressed the door-release and he went in and up carpeted stairs to a dimly lit hall.

  It was a well-kept place and Lila’s door was white and scrubbed, with brass fittings. She opened it on a crack, removed a check-chain and admitted him.

  She was still wearing the gray skirt but had removed the jacket and the white, plain blouse did a lot for her torso, he admitted. She walked away from him, picking up a cigarette from a box on an end table.

  It was a small room with a high ceiling. There was a fireplace and a mantel and some gilt-framed oils on the walls and rather too many pieces of overstuffed furniture done in pastel shades, but the room was comfortable. A single door led to a hall, this being one of the old houses with a railroad train layout. There was a large window overlooking the street, heavily shaded with beige colored drapes. There was no phony air of period decor, no sign of the hand of a pansy decorator, as he would have expected.

  She said, “Jack, I’m scared.”

  “Maybe you ought to be. They just picked Alvin out of a large trash can behind the restaurant.”

  She lit the cigarette. Her hand was steady. “Dead, of course.”

  “His skull was bashed in.”

  She blew out smoke. “And they’re looking for Ted.”

  “You know more about that than I do.”

  “Yes. I was with him last night when he blasted Alvin for stealing.”

  “Somerwell neglected to let me in on the stealing.”

  “Ted asked him not to.” She sat down, crossing her long, lovely legs. Her slanted eyes were cool and honest, staring at him. “You ought to figure that.”

  “All right. I figure it. Ted didn’t even tell me that Alvin was in town.”

  “When we left your place, Ted was undecided whether to take over the lodge … or take the job you offered him. I wanted him to try the lodge.” She lifted one shoulder. “I knew you’d always give him a break.”

  “You’re a smart cooky.”

  “I sometimes think I am.” She shook her head. “Then Ted said he was going to take Alvin in with him, watch him, take care of him. I stopped being so smart.”

  “Where was this? When?”

  “Here. We had just come in.”

  “Directly from my place?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Ted stormed out on you?”

  “It happened quick—like a flash fire. I was so sick of Alvin. Ted had a date with him.”

  “Where was this date?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  He sensed that she was lying, and if he knew it, Damon would know it twice as quick. “Damon will be here. You’d better tell me. Damon will get it out of you anyway.”

  After a moment she blocked out the cigarette. “It was on Third Avenue. Not your place.”

  “Alvin knew where he was welcome at my place. Where they found him, in the back alley.”

  “I’m scared, Jack.”

  “Sure. If Ted fought with you, then went to meet Alvin, he was steaming. He’s pretty far gone in love with you. It would only take a word from Alvin to set him off.”

  “That’s what Damon will believe.”

  “You don’t?”

  She said steadily, “Ted wouldn’t lay his little finger on Alvin. You’re not stupid, you know that.”

  “Not ordinarily. Not for stealing. But if Alvin put the big mouth on you?”

  “Alvin wanted something. He wouldn’t get out of line.”

  “What did he want?”

  “Just what Ted meant to give him. Another shot at the lodge. Forgiveness for stealing. A chance to steal some more. Money to spend on that woman upstate.”

  Jack said slowly, “There wasn’t any more money, was there? Between Cancelli and the tracks… and…” He broke off, uncomfortable.

  “And me?”

  “Well, Lila, you said it.”

  “And me,” she repeated. She got up, took a few steps, a graceful woman, not exactly a dancer, but with ball bearings in all her neatly formed joints, he thought. An ecdysiast, a born seller of sex, he added to himself, trying to dislike her and failing.

  She was being honest with him, that was what prevented him from judging her. She exuded honesty, not sexual attraction. It disturbed and confused him. He expected one kind of person and he was finding, for this time, another.

  “Well, he spent a few dollars on me. He bought me some things. He took me places. The rest of it?” She wagged her head emphatically. “No, Jack. I wish I knew where it all went. I know some of it. I don’t know the whole truth. Maybe you can get him to tell you.”

  “Not me, not anyone, unless Ted wants to tell it.”

  “Maybe Max Somerwell can get it from him.”

  Jack asked, “What about the Cancelli angle? Has he been betting a lot with Cancelli?”

  “Pete Cancelli?” She went rigid. “Has Ted been…? Oh, no. Not Pete!”

  “Damon says so.”

  She went to the sofa against the wall and seemed to melt into it. One hand went to her face in an awkward, futile gesture. “Not that route. Please, not that way.”

  Jack said. “I take it you are acquainted with Cancelli and his operations?”

  “Oh, yes.” Her voice was muffled, he could not see her eyes. “Oh, yes, indeed, I am acquainted.”

  “Could Ted’s money have gone down that rat-hole?”

  “Money? His money?” She made a sound that could have been laughter, but wasn’t. “Cancelli’s not satisfied with money. Pete Dracula Cancelli. What he wants is—your life’s blood.”

  There was a ring at a bell some place in the rear. Jack said warningly, “Don’t let anyone in but Ted.”

  She said, “That’s Ted… that’s the rear door. He uses it… It’s better that way, he’s here so often… She started swiftly toward the rear of the apartment.

  Jack took time to light a cigarette for himself. He wanted to check the bathroom for scent. He had not been able to identify the aroma he had smelled in the alley but in any case it did not make sense that Lila had killed Alvin. Everything depended on Ted’s story—Ted would certainly come clean now that Alvin was dead.

  He had started for the bathroom when he heard Lila scream.

  He dropped the cigarette and ran toward the kitchen. Lila seemed to be struggling with a tall man. He clenched his fists and went to them.

  Then he saw that she was not in danger, she was supporting Ted Colyer, who reeled as though drunk. Her blouse was soaked through and the color was blood red. Pale, stricken, she was pushing Ted toward a chair in the kitchen.

  Jack reached out a hand and Ted took it, grinning like a mask, muttering, “Jack, boy… Glad you’re here. It was rough… Alvin got in too deep… The booze department… the lousy booze… Almost made it home, at that…”

  He went limp, his flaccid hand slipped from Lila’s tight grasp. Jack saw the jagged hole in his sports jacket and grabbed a tea towel to plug it. He said, “Is there a doctor nearby?”

  “In the building.” She managed to keep her voice calm. “I’ll get him.”

  Ted lurched horribly then. It was impossible to hold him and he slid to the floor. The handsome face went slack and vacant, the eyes fluttered.

  “Made it here… Touched every bag… Hadda slide home… huh, Jack?”

  Then the light went out altogether and Jack knew he was holding the head of a dead man in his lap.

  It was a terrible, hurtful knowledge.

  four

  The hard-eyed men from downtown were efficient. They listened an
d neither believed nor disbelieved. Jack Ware spent most of the time watching Lila Sharp and wondering how she managed to remain so calm.

  His own rage and grief were deeper than he would have deemed possible. When they took away Ted’s body in the long morgue basket he left the room abruptly and in the mirror of Lila’s boudoir saw himself weep openly for a moment or two.

  Ted had been his friend for years. Until the advent of Lila, they had dated together, played together, laughed together. The big, sunny ballplayer had been for fun, always for fun.

  Then the bad luck had set in and Lila had come along.

  Jack went back into the sitting room. There was a tall uniformed cop on guard. He said that he was waiting for further orders. Lila went into the bathroom, dry-eyed, contained.

  Jack sat on a chair and tried to think. First Alvin, then Ted Colyer. It did away with any hope of posterity in that family. Alvin had been childless through all his marriages. Ted had never taken the walk to the altar.

  Who wanted the Colyer brothers dead? Surely not Cancelli nor other creditors. Dead men pay no bills.

  Lila—what about her? She had gone out to meet Ted, returned with a dying man.

  That was nonsense, there had been a blood trail leading up the stairs.

  He thought of Isidore Blatsky. He leaped up and started for the door. The uniformed man put out a hand to stop him.

  “A witness. Downstairs, a taxi driver. Blatsky, I remember his name.”

  The cop said, “Sure, Izzy Blatsky. We talked to him first off, when we got here with the patrol car.”

  Jack sat down again. Second-hand thinking, that seemed to be his dish for the day and night. Lila came out of the bathroom, her face clean of make-up other than lipstick. She had the complexion of a young girl. She looked at him and he saw that she was sympathetic, warmly concerned about him.

  The door opened and Hal Damon came in. He was weary and more pallid than usual. He dismissed the policeman and sat down in a deep chair and leaned back. He put his hat on the floor and asked, “Got a drink?”

  Lila went into the kitchen. Damon looked after her, shaking his head.

  “Can’t pin this one on either of you,” he said. “That’s for sure.”

  “Thanks a heap.”

  “Well, what the hell?” The detective closed his eyes. He looked as dead as Ted Colyer for a moment. Then he lifted the corner of his upper lip and said, “Ted was in hock to Cancelli for fifty grand.”

  “What?” It was a shock, there was no use trying to disguise the fact. “That much?”

  “Cancelli spent tonight in the Greystone Club.”

  “With witnesses, of course.”

  “Plenty. There was a short beef. You know Cyrus Easton Camp pretty good, don’t you?”

  “Camp was with Cancelli?”

  “Camp claims someone tried to dope Gold Bug.”

  “Gold Bug? You mean the wise money was down on him and he was doped and lost?”

  Damon shook his head. “There’s two kinds of dope. This was supposed to make him go.”

  “I see. They didn’t get to him, and he lost.”

  “He figured to lose,” said Damon patiently. “He was in the race for exercise. Camp won’t talk much, but he gave Cancelli a hard time in the Greystone. Warned him. Cancelli didn’t take it so big.”

  Jack thought about it for a moment. “Alvin. That’s his kettle of fish.”

  “Could be.” Damon was ruminative, calm. “There’s too many angles to it. Why should they kill Ted when he owed them? We’ve been checking out on Cancelli’s gunsels. Too many alibis. We’ve been checking out-of-town people, which is impossible, in a way. Still, I got an idea Cancelli didn’t bump Alvin or Ted.”

  “Was Cancelli betting on Gold Bug?”

  “That I would like to know.”

  Lila came in with the drinks. She handed them around, kept a dark-colored highball for herself. She stared at Damon and said flatly, “You can put it down that Cancelli was betting on Gold Bug.”

  “Prove it.” said Damon. He squinted at her. His manner was mild and agreeable. “If you can, I got a way to go.”

  “I can’t prove it. I didn’t even know Ted was down heavy on the horse,” she said. “That Alvin. He was a crook in his heart.”

  “Prove it,” said Damon.

  “Ask Max Somerwell,” said Jack wearily. “Ask anyone.”

  “Sure, he maybe was taking from Ted’s camp upstate,” said Damon.

  “You know a hell of a lot about Ted’s business,” said Jack.

  “I told you I was curious. Remember? You bawled me out.”

  “Then you’d been checking up? For a good reason?”

  “Cancelli,” said Damon. “Ted was betting with Cancelli. I don’t like Cancelli. He ain’t a nice guy.”

  “The understatement of the week,” said Lila.

  Damon stood up, bent to get his hat. He finished the drink. He started for the door, paused. “I’m sorry about Ted. He was a nice guy.”

  “Yes, he was a nice guy.”

  Damon looked at Lila. “You’re the one ought to know. You know better than anyone about Ted.” He opened the door. “And about Pete Cancelli.” He went out, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Lila took a big gulp of the strong highball. Then she sat down in the chair vacated by Damon. She said, “He’s a tricky bastard, isn’t he?”

  “He confuses me,” said Jack.

  “You know what he meant?”

  “About Cancelli? I can guess.”

  “Not quite. You couldn’t guess it all.”

  “You had a thing with him, so what?”

  She shook her head. She finished the drink. “God help me, I’m married to him.”

  Jack came to his feet. “Married to him? Hell, that’s motive for murder.”

  “Sit down,” she said bitterly. “Think a little. Pete and I separated ten years ago.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything.”

  “He knew about Ted long ago. He knows—everything. He is a man who keeps informed.”

  “But if he didn’t divorce you—or let you get a decree, there must be something there.”

  “Something like love?” She laughed on a jarring note. “You think dear Pete still loves his Lila?”

  “Not necessarily love. Possessiveness. You’re his wife, you were sleeping with Ted.” He stopped, thought a moment. “That’s why you couldn’t marry Ted?”

  “I wouldn’t marry Ted. I could have gone to Mexico with him. He wanted me to.”

  “Cancelli has a branch in Mexico.”

  “Ted didn’t know. You think I’d put him on that spot? That would have triggered Cancelli.”

  “Then you couldn’t marry Ted, like I said.”

  “Couldn’t… wouldn’t.” She put down the empty glass. “I don’t know. I can’t judge myself. But I don’t believe I would have married Ted. Not under any circumstances. And if I’d known he was betting off-track with Pete, I’d have gone to someone. To you, probably.”

  “Not me. You wouldn’t have come to me.”

  Her slanting eyes were bright with unshed tears. “You are not very smart, sometimes. I know you don’t like me. But I also know you were Ted’s best friend.”

  He felt that she was being honest. He had sensed honesty in her from the beginning, when he had first come to the apartment. He said, “Are you trying to tell me you were not in love with Ted?”

  She nodded. She went quickly out to the kitchen. He heard the ice rattling, the gurgle of the bottle. He followed her and she was pouring herself a big slug. He took the glass from her and put half of it into his own drink. He said, “Let’s be careful. This will take some time.”

  “I’m ashamed,” she whispered. “He’d be alive if it wasn’t for me.”

  “That doesn’t cut much ice,” said Jack. He leaned against the sink. They drank, staring at one another. “It’s not that simple.”

  “I feel it. I’m sure of it.”

  “I like it
better that he’d be alive if it wasn’t for Alvin.”

  This gave her pause. She sipped at the drink, her color faded to normal shade. “Alvin. Yes, he was part of it.”

  “A whole hell of a lot of it.”

  “Yes, a lot of it. If he tried to fix that horse and they caught him…”

  “They didn’t catch him. It would have got out. They may have suspected him.”

  He paused, then said, “Camp went after Cancelli. You think Alvin was working for the mob?”

  “I wouldn’t put anything past him. Maybe Cancelli was betting the horse big and Alvin failed to dope the beast and then Cancelli…” She broke off.

  “Damon doesn’t think it was that way. He’ll be looking for something connected with you.”

  “Let him.” She hesitated. “Ted didn’t know about it, if Alvin was trying to fix the race. Ted just bet the horse because Alvin sold him a bill of goods.”

  “I hope so.” The girl defended Ted to the end, and it made him feel better. It softened the harshness of the situation, it helped him to banish the dead face of his friend from the foreground of his mind. “I’m not buying everything Damon says.”

  She lifted one shoulder. “There was a time when Damon and Pete Cancelli weren’t enemies.”

  “What? When was that?”

  “Ten years ago, when Damon first made detective. Pete was his pal, the guy who helped him.”

  “This is getting tangled,” he said slowly. “It’s more than I can digest at one sitting. You were not in love with Ted, Cancelli was once Damon’s friend, Alvin tried to dope a horse and failed. Let’s take it slow. Let’s start with you.”

  She did not flinch. “I liked Ted. You think I haven’t slept with men I didn’t like? I was married, remember. It broke up ten years ago. I’ve been around a lot in ten years.”

  “So you took Ted’s money, his love, and had nothing to give him in return.”

  She lifted her drink. “To love. To marriage. To the friendship of Jack Ware and Ted Colyer.”

  The irony bit deep. He remembered again that she had been honest since their first talk about Alvin and Ted. When he thought about it, she had never been dishonest. She had never pretended, not to anything. She had submitted to his distaste for her without presenting a defense.