Korris hesitated with his hand on the telephone. Then he decided he couldn’t be bothered. There was too much to do in the morning. He’d better get some sleep while he could.
He reached for the light and switched it out. He went to sleep after a while and dreamed that Schultz was kneeling at the foot of his bed. He seemed quite happy, smiling in his fat, oily way, but when Korris looked closer, Schultz had a big wound in his throat
The dream, however, did not disturb Korris. In fact, he slept all the better for it.
TWENTY-TWO
Schultz drove back to his house and put his car in the garage. He stood for a moment looking up and down the dark, deserted street, then moving quickly up the path, he let himself into the house.
He went immediately upstairs without turning on the lights. The house was silent and a little oppressive, he thought as he reached his bedroom. It was a pity about Lorelli. He would liked to have taken her with him. But, it was no good. If he couldn’t trust her, he would never be at ease. He was getting too old anyway to have a young girl like Lorelli to worry about.
He turned on the electric light and looked round the small bedroom. It was neat and orderly. The door to Lorelli’s room stood open and he half expected to hear her call out in her mocking voice. ‘Is that you, Maestro?’
He walked to the door and fumbled for the switch. Turning on the light he looked round the room The bed had not been made and Lorelli’s silk pyjamas lay on the armchair. Powder was scattered on the dressing table and on the mirror. There was her unescapable scent in the room and he shook his head a little sadly. He was going to miss Lorelli. In a way, of course, he was going to miss Joe. The boy was useful. But, if he could get his hands on the money at Casy’s, he wouldn’t have to worry about Joe. He could go somewhere quiet, and settle down in his own little house with his own land and rear orchids to his heart’s delight But, he had got to get the money first.
He went over to Lorelli’s dressing table and pulled out the drawers. In various little corners he found the small collection of jewellery he had given her in the past The sum total could not have been worth more than a few hundred dollars, but he was leaving nothing of value.
He put the trinkets in his trouser pocket and then crossed over to the wardrobe. The Persian lamb coat he’d have to leave. It was too bulky to take with him. This irritated him. He disliked leaving anything of value. He went through all her clothes and found a small diamond brooch left carelessly on an evening gown. He unpinned it and put that in his pocket. Then leaving the wardrobe he went through the drawers in the fitted cupboard by the window.
There he found a small roll of money. It wasn’t much and he didn’t bother to count it. He simply stuffed it into his pocket and went on hunting. At the back of the drawer he found a bundle of letters tied up with green ribbon. He looked at them suspiciously, ripped the ribbon off and read one or two quickly. Then he threw them back into the drawer, a snarl on his parrot-like mouth.
He had always suspected that Lorelli had cheated and now he knew for certain. He looked round the room, his eyes flecked with red, feeling that he would like to rip all her things to pieces. But he controlled himself. It was no good wasting time. There was still much to do.
Leaving her room, he went on to the landing and stood listening, then he groped his way to the top floor where Joe slept.
Joe’s room was neat and clean. Every drawer in the chest was locked and so was the wardrobe.
Schultz took from his hip pocket a small jemmy and prised open each drawer. He found very little that interested him. A large box of .38 ammunition set him hunting for Joe’s gun, but he didn’t find it. This made him angry. What a fool he had been not to have searched Joe before he let him drop down into the cellar. There wasn’t much chance of anyone hearing them shouting for help, but a gun was different. They might attract attention with the gun.
He stood thinking, pulling at his thick underlip, a heavy, scowling frown on his fat face. After he’d been out to Casy’s, he’d have to go back. He shook his head. No, that was too risky. He’d have to go back before he went on to Fairview.
A patrolling cop might hear something. It wouldn’t do to let them find Clare. It didn’t matter much about Lorelli and Joe, but Clare was dangerous.
As he stood thinking, he heard a faint noise on the roof just above his head. He stiffened, his hand moving inside his coat, his ears straining.
The noise was repeated. It was soft, almost as if someone had tapped on the tiles very lightly with a stick.
Schultz moved silently across the room, and turned off the electric light. He was not alarmed, but he was taking every precaution. He thought the sound might be from a branch of the nearby tree moving in the wind against the roof. But Schultz was a little nervy and he wanted to satisfy himself.
He groped his way across the dark room and very gently pulled back the curtains. Below him was the sloping roof.
The moon rode high, lighting the street and the trees and shining directly on to the roof. He heard the sound again distinctly. It seemed closer and then a small, black shadowy form walked delicately along the tiles. It was a cat.
Schultz grinned at it. He took his hand away from his gun and took out his handkerchief. He found his face was running with sweat.
‘A cat,’ he said, softly. ‘Losing my nerve or something.’
He watched the cat walk along the roof and then pause at the gutter. It sniffed at the space below and then turned and came walking back. Schultz could see its gleaming eyes as it passed close to him. He heard it overhead and he relaxed, drawing the curtain and putting on the light again.
The cat had disturbed his train of thought. He stared round the room, trying to remember what had been worrying him. Ah, yes, the gun. Once again his face puckered into a heavy frown. It was going to be difficult to tackle Joe. He was a vicious boy and might shoot on sight.
What a fool he had been not to guess that Joe would be carrying a gun. He went out of the room, turning off the light, and made his way along the corridor to the head of the stairs.
The house seemed full of vague sounds and he stopped to listen. There was a wind getting up and somewhere downstairs a door slammed loudly.
Had he left a window open? He couldn’t remember. It was a hot night and he may have done, or even Lorelli might have left it open before leaving the house.
As he stood listening, he thought of Spade. There was no association of ideas to account for the reason why he should suddenly think of him. But the name slipped into his mind unexpectedly and he immediately tried to discard the thought. But, now that Spade was in his mind, he began to think that Spade was everywhere.
The darkness around him was full of Spade’s presence. The creaking of the stairs, the rustling of the curtains below were made by Spade. Even the soft footfalls of the cat overhead were made by Spade as he crept across the moonlit tiles.
Schultz shivered. The fat of his body had gone cold, encasing him in a trembling, chilling mass of clay. He pulled at his underlip nervously and stared down into the darkness. For several seconds he struggled to gain control of his jumpy nerves. Then, as if to reassure him, the wind died down and the noises in the house were stilled.
He put out his hand and touched the banister rail and descended the stairs slowly and noiselessly.
Back in his bedroom with the light on, he recovered his nerve. As he began to pack, he thought about Spade.
In actual fact, Spade ought to be pleased with him Hadn’t he got rid of Bellman? Even the police thought it was suicide. That showed that he had done the job well.
He put his fat hand inside his coat and took out a worn wallet. From the wallet he pulled out a square piece of paper and looked at it. It was the plan of where Noakes had hidden the bonds.
He wondered if Spade knew of its existence. If he did he might be wondering why he hadn’t come over and given it to him. Yes, he ought to have telephoned Korris and played for time.
He glanced at his wa
tch. It was nearly a quarter to five. This startled him. He had no idea that he had wasted so much time. He hurried on with his packing, throwing his things into two large suitcases, taking with him only the bare essentials.
When he had finished packing, he picked up the suitcases and went downstairs. As he reached the hall, he came to an abrupt halt. He felt his heart give a jerk and the back of his throat suddenly went dry.
From under the door of his sitting room came a streak of light.
He put the bags down very gently and fumbled for his gun. He’d been in there, of course, but he was almost certain that he had turned the light out before going upstairs. Now, it was on.
Once again his nerves fluttered and he went cold again. He tiptoed across the hall and listened with his ear against the panel of the door. There was no sound. Outside a car went past with a noisy change of gears.
Schultz drew his gun and very gently turned the handle of the door. He threw it open at the same time stepping quickly to one side. The room was empty.
He drew in a deep breath of relief and edged cautiously into the room. As he stood looking round, the curtains suddenly billowed out, caught by the wind. He whirled round with a snarl of fear. The curtains fell into place and then heaved out towards him again. Crossing the room with jerky steps, he drew the curtains and peered out into the garden.
The first light of dawn came over the rooftops and he could make out the flower beds and the flowers moving in the wind. There was nothing out there that could cause alarm.
He closed the window and drew the curtain. He was frightened. He knew someone had opened the window while he had been upstairs. He remembered particularly that the window had been closed as he came up the path after putting the car in the
garage. Was someone hiding in the house, or had they heard him and gone away?
He pulled nervously at his thick underlip, feeling the sweat run down behind his ears and along his collar.
Then as he turned to the door, he distinctly heard someone moving overhead.
The heavy, deliberate tread was unmistakable. Someone was walking about Lorelli’s room without taking the trouble to conceal the fact.
Schultz’s blood chilled. He crossed the room with two quick strides and snapped off the light. Then he stood in the hall listening.
The sound of the footsteps came out of Lorelli’s room. Someone was coming along the upstairs passage towards the stairs. He crouched back feeling his heart thumping against his side. The footsteps stopped abruptly.
Through the fanlight over the front door came the first light of the new day. But a new day meant nothing to Schultz. He felt that for him the immediate future was very unlikely now that Spade was in the house. In fact, he began to wonder in a vague frightened way how much of the immediate present was left to him.
Out of the thinning darkness, the sound of the footsteps came down the stairs. They did not creep down. They came down firmly and deliberately as if aware that he was crouched against the wall, suffocating with terror.
TWENTY-THREE
Clare supposed she must have slept. She didn’t remember dozing off and it came as a shock to her to be roughly shaken and to find Joe bending over her. For a moment, she couldn’t remember him and her blank, frightened look seemed to irritate him.
‘Wake up!’ he said. ‘This ain’t the time to sleep.’
Then she remembered where she was and how he had come through the trap with the girl and how Schultz had laughed at them before closing the trap. She had no idea how long she had slept.
She remembered liking the girl. She had been friendly, but the boy, with his white face and stony, blank eyes, had made her nervous. He wouldn’t let the girl say anything. Every time she spoke to Clare he had said, ‘Don’t tell her anything. Whatever you say’ll go into the paper.’
So in the end the girl had gone over to a pile of straw and stretched out. Clare must have dozed off soon after.
Now, a little alarmed to find the boy bending over her, she struggled up. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, anxiously.
‘There’s nothing the matter,’ Lorelli said, coming over and yawning. ‘He never lets anyone rest. He’s just in a bad mood.’
Joe looked from one to the other. His wrist ached and the small cellar oppressed him. ‘We’ve got to get out of here,’ he said. ‘Can’t you think of something instead of sleeping?’
Clare thought that was reasonable, but she was tired and the close, damp atmosphere made her eyes heavy. She looked round the dimly lit stone and cement walls. ‘There’s no way out,’ she said. ‘I’ve looked everywhere.’
But Joe wouldn’t let it rest. ‘You’re educated,’ he persisted. ‘Well, use your brain. We’ve got to get out.’
‘Oh, shut up, Joe,’ Lorelli said, sharply. She came and sat down beside Clare. ‘You’ve got the jitters. Paul’ll come back.’
‘He’ll come back,’ Joe said, staring round. ‘And you know what he’ll do. We’ll be like rats in a trap.’
‘Where is this place?’ Clare asked.
‘It’s under a poolroom Schultz has an office here, but I never knew about this cellar,’ Lorelli told her.
Clare said quickly, ‘This is where Harry Duke works?’
Lorelli looked at her suspiciously and Joe cut in, ‘Always questions - questions,’ he said, nursing his wrist. ‘Can’t you stop talking?’
‘What do you know about Harry Duke?’ Lorelli asked, ignoring Joe.
‘He’s a friend of mine,’ Clare said, feeling confused.
Lorelli wondered how Harry Duke had met her. She shrugged. ‘He won’t help you,’ she said. ‘No one would think of looking here.’
‘Can’t you two stop talking and use your heads?’ Joe said. ‘I tell you we’ve got to get out of here.’ Clare got to her feet and once more looked round the cellar. It was full of boxes, enormous barrels and straw. The only piece of furniture was a large cupboard standing against the far wall.
‘What’s in here?’ she asked, rapping one of the barrels.
‘Talk sense,’ Joe said, bitterly. ‘It doesn’t help us to get out.’
Clare tried to tilt the barrel, but it was too heavy. ‘There’s something in this,’ she said.
Lorelli came over. ‘Beer,’ she said. ‘We shan’t die of thirst.’ She gave a little giggle, and added, ‘Joe hates beer like hell.’
Clare wasn’t listening. She glanced up at the trap in the ceiling and then at the barrel. ‘How did they get it in here?’
Joe clenched and unclenched his sound hand. ‘Can’t you stop talking?’ he said, viciously.
Lorelli glanced at the trap and then she got excited. ‘She’s right, Joe. This couldn’t have come through the trap. It’s too large.’
‘What do you mean?’ Joe said, suspiciously, staring at the barrel.
‘Can’t you see?’ Clare said. ‘There must be another way in. These barrels didn’t grow here and they couldn’t have come through the trap.’ She picked up the lantern and began to examine the walls carefully. The other two stood watching, but she didn’t find anything.
When she came to the cupboard, she found it was locked. ‘Can’t we get this open?’ she asked.
Joe came over and examined the lock. Drawing back, he aimed a vicious kick at it and the plywood splintered.
Clare peered through the split wood. ‘There’s a door behind this,’ she said, excitedly.
Joe pushed past her and began ripping the wood away. He worked feverishly with his one sound hand and when he had made a large enough opening, he could see a door in the back of the cupboard. He wedged himself into the cupboard and turned the handle. The door opened outwards.
‘Bring the lantern,’ he said, keeping his voice low. ‘And don’t make a noise.’
Clare slipped through the broken panels, but Lorelli had a lot of difficulty. As she squeezed through, tearing her dress, Clare heard her swear softly.
They stepped into a dark passage. It was low and smelt of damp.
> ‘Give me the light,’ Joe said, sharply.
Clare handed it to him and he held the lantern above his head. There was a staircase just in front of them and beyond that, a passage continued to a door.
Joe went down the passage and found the door was locked. There was nothing he could do about that and he returned. ‘That’s our way out,’ he whispered, jerking his thumb to the stairs.
Keeping close to him, they followed him up the dusty stairs. ‘Half way up, Joe paused. ‘Listen,’ he said, softly.
Above them came a low murmur of men’s voices. Joe felt in his hip pocket and pulled out his gun. ‘Wait here,’ he said, ‘I’ll see what’s going on.’
Lorelli clutched at his sleeve. ‘I don’t like this,’ she said, nervously.
He shook her off. ‘Shadup!’ He stood listening, his thin, white face uneasy in the light of the lantern.
Clare thought he looked like a cornered ferret. His black eyes were bright and restless and a muscle fluttered in his cheek. He blew out the lantern and set it on the ground. ‘Wait here,’ he repeated. ‘If you hear anything, don’t give yourselves away.’ He moved quietly up the stairs, leaving them standing tense in the darkness.
When he had gone some way up, he paused to listen again. The voices seemed very near. He could hear snatches of conversation.
A man said violently, ‘How much longer do you think I’m going to wait here?’
‘Shut your mouth, you punk,’ another voice growled. ‘You’ll wait and like it.’
There was a confused sound of voices, then someone said, ‘Can’t one of you guys make some coffee? I feel like hell.’
Joe judged there must be quite a number of men up there. He crept forward until his feet told him that he had reached the top of the stairs.
He could see a light coming from under the door at the far end of the passage. Near him was a window with the blind down. The early morning light filtered round the edges of the blind and that made him look at his watch. It was 5.30 a.m.
1944 - Just the Way It Is Page 17