“I have,” Kirby admitted.
MacIntosh took a long drag at his cigarette and burst forth. “You've backed up my theory, Connell. You admit Wendel loves his wife. Now I say he had an affair with this maid and his wife found it out. That's why she's out here divorcing him. So he had this girl killed to keep her quiet; so his wife couldn't divorce him.”
I laughed and said: “And I suppose the wife would keep the gal on her payroll, knowing her old man was having an affair with her? That won't hold up. She'd fire her the second she knew it.”
“Maybe she wanted the girl as a witness and kept her along on that account. That holds water, doesn't it?”
“Now look and remember,” I said. “You saw that girl. She wasn't pretty. Mrs. Wendell is. I know that a guy will go for a homely girl lots of times, but not this time. Not this guy. This Wendel was no party hound and never was. He ain't the type to chase women.”
Kirby asked: “How d'ya know that?”
“Joey Free told me. He went to school with Wendel. They're pals. He told me Wendel was safe and sane at all times.”
Kirby said: “Hell! He's human, ain't he. He's safe and sane like Fourth of July celebrations are. I notice people still get hurt at them. You can't change human nature.”
I said: “That's my argument. A play like that wouldn't be in Wendel's nature. He's a dope.”
We argued about it some more and Kirby asked if I'd seen Mrs. Wendel. I said I hadn't; that I'd made no attempt at seeing her. That I could take a gentle hint without having both shins kicked black and blue. He grinned over at MacIntosh and said: “I told you he was half smart.”
MacIntosh said: “Or maybe just canny,” and on that note I left.
Breakfast was to be a three-way affair; Lester, Kewpie, and I, so I stopped in the same Rustic Bar for a drink on the way back to the hotel. I had plenty of time and I'd had enough to drink the night before to need one. I got inside and to the bar and told the smug-looking bird behind it what I wanted and happened to look out on the street. There was a Cadillac coupe going by and I could have sworn I saw Joey Free back of the wheel. I didn't think anything about it at the time, feeling sure that Joey was in the City then, but when I got back to the hotel and Lester said: “Miss Gahagen called and wants you to call her,” I thought maybe something had come up at that end and that Joey had driven up to tell me about it personally.
I got Long Distance, and finally the Gahagan and said:
“This is me. What's the matter?”
She said: “You told me to call you if anything came up. That's what I did.”
I could hear her giggle over the phone. “Oh nothing much. Do you remember giving me a check for a hundred dollars to put in your personal account?”
“Sure. Joey Free's.”
“Well, it bounced. No funds.”
“You're nuts, Red. He's good.”
“You're nuts if you think I'm nuts,” she said. “He may good but his checks bounced just the same. D'ya want protest it?”
“Hell, no. He's good, I tell you. There's some mistake.”
“Well, that's the reason I called you. How long you going to stay there?”
“I've got a job, Red. Maybe forever.”
She laughed and said: “A break for me! You can't stay longer than six weeks on that expense account. You've been up there two days; that leaves you forty more.”
I didn't get it and said so. She said: “It's simple. That woman will get her divorce after she's there six weeks. Forty-two days. I take it that's what Wendel doesn't want. He's lot going to pay you after she gets it, is he?”
I said: “This is costing me money,” and hung up. And then called back. I got her in five minutes and said:
“Listen, Red! Call up Joey's apartment and find out if he's there. I mean in town. Get it? Then write me a letter about it and send it air mail. I'll get it in the morning.”
She said she understood.
I told Lester about thinking I'd seen Joey driving by. He put on his thoughtful look and said: “That seems hardly logical, Shean. I mean, after all, with the police chasing him out and all. He'd hardly turn around and come back, would he?”
I said I'd thought of that myself. The telephone rang then and I picked it up, thinking it would be Kewpie calling from the lobby. A very soft, sweet, and feminine voice said:
“Is it you, honey?”
I told her that I wasn't sure but that it might just possibly be, and the voice froze up and snapped: “I would like to speak to Mr. Lester Hoyt.”
I said to Lester: “It's your honey.”
He talked and I gathered she was trying to rope him into a car ride, far into the romantic mountains. Where the old hills could look down on young love and so on. I kept snickering and he kept getting redder and redder in the face and his stalling kept getting weaker. Finally I said:
“Tell the old itch-bay you'll go. What the hell! You only live once and she hasn't got so many more years.” He told her he'd meet her in the lobby in twenty minutes, then told me: “You shouldn't say things like that about her, Shean! She's really very nice.”
“Sure. I bet she has you carrying matches pretty soon.”
“She's lonesome. She knows very few people here.”
“Okey, kid! She's the motherly type, I guess. She's old enough to be yours.”
He left the room on that one and I decided I'd have a talk with the old gal if I ever got her by herself. After all, I felt responsible for Lester though I couldn't see much harm in his running around with her as long as he didn't marry her.
That would be too tough for him. Number four on her list at his age. I believe in anybody getting experience... but not in too big doses.
CHAPTER EIGHT
KEWPIE and I had breakfast and stalled around until time to go to work. Most of the time I talked with Kewpie about getting that soggy sax tone of his up half a notch and he didn't like it much. Probably no more than I liked the soggy tone he had. We went out to the place about seven and Gino Rucci met us, beaming all over, and said to me: “I would like to speak to you.”
We went off to the side and he nodded at Kewpie and said: “Do you suppose you can find another man in his place? The people, they like you; they do not like him.”
It didn't make any difference to me, but Kewpie had tried to give me a break and I appreciated it. I said: “That's out. I work with Kewpie or I don't work. And I don't give a damn whether I work or not.”
He started waving his hands and saying it was all a mistake. I calmed down and so did he. Finally he said:
“You like the girls I introduce you to last night? Nice girls, are they.”
I spit it out at him. “I'd like to meet the one you didn't introduce. The one in that party you were sitting with last night.”
“That is the Mrs. Wendel. She's ah ... she's...”
He tried to think of a word and I watched his eyes. Usually they were soft and brown and good-natured, but now they looked as though a shade had been pulled over them. Glazed. I said: “Oh, no difference. She was pretty, though.”
He beamed again. “Very pretty. Very good customer. She comes out with Crandall. Mister Crandall is a lawyer; a very good one.”
I said was that right and went back to Kewpie. There was nobody in back, so we went out to the bar in front and I said to him: “What kind of a guy is this Rucci? He seems like a good Joe.”
“He's a smart egg, Shean! He's made money when there's been others starved. He'll shoot all angles.”
“Hustler, hunh?”
Kewpie laughed. “You should ask. That soft soap of his don't fool anybody. He owns a good half of the town. No, not that much dough, but he's well fixed and then some. Part of two banks. This place. A cut in two of the gambling places down town. He's got a piece of the Rustic, that bar where I first met you. He's got a dude ranch out in the country and a couple of mines. Rucci is no slouch.”
I said it would seem not. I said: “He seems friendly with Crandall.”
“Crandall's his lawyer, same as he's the lawyer for most of the money men in town. Crandall's good I guess; I don't know him.”
I said: “Lawyers are good people to stay away from. Let's get to work.”
Crandall and Mrs. Wendel, the two guards and the two the-less-said-the-betters came in about ten and Rucci led them to a booth almost facing the piano. We had a nice crowd and I was working hard but I still could notice Rucci talking and waving his hands and nodding toward me. Finally Crandall and Mrs. Wendel danced and Rucci came over to the piano. He flagged them down when they pranced by and said: “Mr. Crandall! Mrs. Wendel! I want you to meet Shean Connell.”
I nodded, and kept on playing. Crandall said: “Come on over to the booth and have a drink with us when you get a chance.”
I said thank you... and took them up on it half an hour later.
Crandall was nice... too nice. Mrs. Wendel acted as though I wasn't on earth, beyond saying: “Hello!” when I first went over. It wasn't that she high-hatted me; she just ignored me. I was as the dirt under her feet, if actions meant a thing. The two guards were very guarded, saying not a hell of a lot more than she did. The two chippies were swarming over me like bees... and I'd just as soon have had the bees.
I left for the next set of tunes and Rucci came over and shrugged and said: “She is like that, that lady. Very dignified. Very high class. She is rich; she has the guards with her at all times in case of trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
He shrugged again. “Hold-ups, kidnapping, anything may happen to the very rich.”
That was the size of it. The Wendel party left about two, the same as the night before. We quit about four and I went home to find Lester in bed and asleep. Which was rather a surprise; I'd thought his big mama was going to do better than that on her second time out with him.
The three of us, Kewpie, Lester, and I, were eating breakfast the next morning when I looked over at another table and saw Bill Maxwell and Charley Howard. I said to Lester: “Well, good Lord! Two pals. Excuse me.”
Lester said: “Sure. I've got a date this afternoon, Shean, so don't plan on me going with you anyplace.”
I looked at Kewpie and winked and Kewpie looked puzzled. I said: “Those two guys I've known for ten years. They're card dealers. I used to know them when I worked in Eureka. They had a pan game there.”
“Pan game?” Lester asked.
“Panguingi. It's like rummy, only more so. Like a cross between rummy and coon-can. It's insanity and slow death. You can't quit playing it once you start and the house gets all the money because they're cutting the game so hard.”
Lester lied and said: “I see!” and Kewpie laughed and said: “I've played it. I never had a dime all the time I did.”
I went over and said hello to Bill and Charley and they said they were working at the Bank Club, Bill at the Faro bank and Charley back of the crap layout. Lester and Kewpie came over, Lester to tell me he was going back to the hotel and his date, and Kewpie to say he had to see a man about a dog. I waited until Bill and Charley got through eating, then said: “Come out and see me at the Three C Club. I'm working out there.”
They said they would and we walked down the street together. We got almost level with the first National Bank, and I saw Ruth Wendel and the same two guards come out and start toward us. I said:
“Hello!” to the three of them, smiling, and the two guards grunted and stepped in close to her. She looked right through me and kept walking. Bill and Charley and I stared after them, and Charley laughed and said:
“Madge is getting high-hat as hell. She never even spoke to me. I don't blame her for passing you up, Connell, but I used to know her old man.”
“What d'ya mean, her old man?”
“Her old man. She's Madge Giovanatti. She used to be with Harry Kieth, when he ran that joint on Post Street. That would be five, no six years ago. I guess maybe she's forgotten me.”
Bill Maxwell said: “I couldn't blame her for that.”
I said: “You're screwy, Charley. That's Mrs. Ruth Wendel from New York City. I met her last night. She's got dough in lots. Here for a divorce.”
Charley grinned and said: “Maybe that's why she didn't speak to me. I don't know any New York society women, but this one looks like Madge Giovanatti, I swear.”
“She didn't speak to me, either, and I just met her last night. She acted as though she didn't think much of me then.”
Bill said again: “And I couldn't blame her for that.” They dropped me at the hotel and I told them I'd look in on their games, later on. I went inside, found I'd had no calls and read the city papers through. Then I went down to the Bank Club.
I'd dropped sixty dollars on Bill's faro bank, and spent four hours doing it, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I wasn't feeling good about losing the dough, and I swung around and said: “What's the matter?”
It was Kirby, and he didn't look as pleasant as he usually did. He said: “I want to talk to you, Connell. Cash in.”
“Suppose I go down to the station after a while? I want to get well. I'm in the game now and it can't go on like this forever.”
Kirby grinned, but not with any humor in the grin, and said: “Hell, I'm doing you a favor. You'll get sicker. You can't beat the bank unless you're right. Come on now.”
I said to Bill Maxwell: “The law's got me, Bill. I'll be back after my sixty pretty soon.”
“I'll save it for you,” he said, and I followed Kirby out to the street and to his car. I was a bit hot under the collar ... I'd a hunch that I was going to start calling the turn about that time. I said:
“Couldn't this wait, Chief? I hate like hell to have to quit right now. On top of that, I don't like to have a cop take me out of a place, now or any other time.”
“It can't wait,” he said.
He drove down to the station and neither of us said a word until we were inside. Len McIntosh was in the Chief's office, waiting for us, and he drawled out: “Hello, Connell!” I said hello and took my usual seat. Kirby took his and started out with: “I tried to give you a break, Connell, and one for myself along with you. You don't want to play it that way, hunh?”
“What d'ya mean?”
“I gave you the dope once. I figured you'd play smart, stick here a while and make yourself a fee out of this Wendel. Instead, you bull ahead and put yourself in bad. And me on the pan. I won't go for that.”
This had me down and I asked him what he meant. He said impatiently: “You know damned well what I mean. You try and bust into that woman on the street and she makes a complaint about it. I understand you wangled an introduction to her last night and I can't stop that. But this street business! Insisting on talking to her when she doesn't want to talk to you! That I can and will stop.”
I said: “Now, wait a minute!” and told him just exactly what had happened. That I'd said hello and that was all. That I'd been with two friends, who'd tell him the same if he'd ask them. I said: “It's like this. I'm here and minding my business. It's your town and I know it. But I'm damned if I'm going to get railroaded out of it over a thing like this. There's something screwy about this.”
Len MacIntosh said: “Sure there's something screwy about this. There's a murder and murder's screwy to say the least. This time and every time.”
Kirby said: “Crandall called me and said you'd annoyed Mrs. Wendell on the street. If you keep on with this, Connell, hell have you bound over under a peace bond and it will be a heavy one. That's what he said, if it means anything. He can do it.”
I said: “He told you what to do and you're doing it. I catch.”
He got a dull red, and said stubbornly: “I told you how I stand heife. You know the set-up. Why make it tough for me?”
I said: “Am I supposed to be arrested?”
“No.”
“Then I'm leaving. You know where you can find me.”
“It won't be at the Three C Club,” MacIntosh said, grinning.
�
�Why not?”
“Crandall said not, over the phone. I guess he doesn't want to leave you any reason for sticking around town.”
I said to both of them: “Either of you tell Crandall why I'm in town?”
MacIntosh shook his head and Kirby said: “I never told a soul. Not even my old lady. I keep the office and gossip apart, if you know what I mean.”
“I told nobody, either,” MacIntosh said. “But Crandall knows I'm a cop that's trying to talk to Mrs. Wendel. Isn't that it?”
Kirby said slowly: “He didn't say that. But I wouldn't bet he didn't know. He gets around; he hears things. I've heard the same thing, for that matter. That you're a shamus, that is. I didn't hear what you were here for.”
“Who told you?”
He thought a moment, said: “As I remember, the bar man in the Rustic Grill. He said something about you not taking a drink with me, that day I met you there. It was some ribbing remark about a private cop being too good to drink with the city force. I didn't pay any attention; I didn't know it was supposed to be a secret.”
I said: “At that time I didn't either. It's no secret now, I can see that.”
I left there, boiling. Kirby wasn't the type to shoot his mouth off about anybody else's business and I didn't think MacIntosh was, either. Kewpie didn't know a thing and so I couldn't blame it on him.
That left Lester. And the kid might well have made some remark to that big blonde mama of his and spilled the beans. I started back to the hotel to wait for him... and I spent the time it took me to get there thinking about the things I was going to say to him.
CHAPTER NINE
JUST before I got to the hotel I had to pass a newsstand, and I stopped there to get something to read while waiting for Lester. The magazines were spread out by the stand on a sort of platform for display and there was a brick wall back of the platform. Just the space between two stores. I got what I wanted and started to turn back to the stand to pay and something flicked the top of my ear as I did. And right then a brick in front of me spattered red dust.
I heard the gun then but until I'd put my hand up to my ear and brought it down and looked at the blood on it I didn't realize what the sound had been. It hadn't been loud; about like the noise a heavy whip makes when cracked.
42 Days for Murder Page 4