42 Days for Murder

by 42 Days for Murder (retail) (epub)

  MacIntosh and I went inside and I said: “I judge that Crandall gave you a line of crap. Isn't that it?”

  “He wants to talk with me about a settlement, if that's what you mean.”

  “Did he tell you why he got you out of jail?”

  “Of course. I couldn't well talk business while I was in jail. I understand that was your doing.”

  “That's right. You were safe there, weren't you?”

  “Mard has been telling me of this ridiculous theory of yours. I'm perfectly safe right here. Things like that don't happen in this age, Connell.”

  “That's why Kirby just didn't take three guys out of the hotel that were waiting for you to stick your nose out. It just didn't happen.”

  Mard asked: “Is that right?”

  “Right.”

  Mard said to Wendel: “You see. I tell you when the amount of money involved is as great as in this case, nothing is impossible.”

  Wendel lost a lot of bluster. “Do you mean to say that three men were waiting in the hotel to murder me?”

  “That's the idea.”

  “Can you prove that?”

  “I don't know yet. I don't think I'll have to prove it.”

  “What d'ya mean by that statement? Connell, I demand that you give me the facts in your possession.”

  I said: “Oh nuts! You'd screw things up if I did. Let it work out; it will. Now I want you to go to the phone and get Crandall on the wire. Insist on one thing. An appointment for eleven-thirty tonight. Tell him you'll be ready to discuss terms of settlement at that time. Make it at his office. If he objects to that hour, tell him you're sick of the whole dirty mess and want to pay off and leave in the morning.”

  “I refuse to do any such thing. Eleven-thirty at night is no hour to talk business. I've lost my faith in you, Connell, I'll tell you frankly. I'll see Mr. Crandall at a reasonable hour in the morning.”

  MacIntosh stepped ahead of me and said: “You'll do as you're told, for once in your life, at least. You're fooling with murder and a man is trying to save your life and you're fighting him. Use your head, man. This isn't a country or a people you know. I'll tell you now that Connell knows exactly what he's doing. He wouldn't have the co-operation he's getting if he didn't.”

  I couldn't see his face but he must have looked very convincing. Wendel stepped back, said: “But... but... Who are you, sir?”

  MacIntosh said: “The name is MacIntosh. I work for the Government, if that means anything. I'm concerned with more than a divorce case, mister... the Government isn't paying them attention as yet.”

  I said to Wendel: “For Christ's sake, man, use sense. Work it our way and it will all be over. This is serious; murder always is.”

  “I still refuse to believe I'm in any danger.”

  I said: “I bet that maid your wife had thought the same thing. But it didn't keep a knife out of her neck, did it? Now will you go to the phone and make that date with Crandall? We've got things to do before then. Better make it for twelve, at that.”

  “He'll probably refuse to see me at that hour.”

  Mard said: “People don't refuse money at any hour of the day or night, Mr. Wendel. At least they don't in Reno.”

  Wendel went to the phone. He acted as if the whole thing was silly, and as though he didn't approve of what he was doing, but he went. He got Crandall, told him he'd like to see him at twelve, and I could hear the phone crackle when Crandall talked back at him. This made Wendel sore. He snapped back:

  “Now listen. I tell you I want to talk to you at twelve tonight. I can't talk with you now; I'm busy. If you don't care to see me at twelve, say so. I can go back East and let this matter go to court, if that's what you want.”

  He said, in a much softer voice a minute later: “Twelve at your office then. Mr. Crandall. Yes, I'll have Mr. Mard with me. At twelve then.”

  He hung up the phone and turned, with his lower lip sticking out in a pout, and said, “Is that all now, gentlemen?”

  MacIntosh said: “Practically all. I'll have to ask you to stay in this room with Mr. Mard until we come back for you. We'll keep that appointment with you, you know.”

  Wendel asked: “And what if I don't choose to do that?”

  This got MacIntosh finally. He roared out: “By the Almighty God! I'll tell you what! I'll cuff you to that bed, you young whipper-snapper, and lock the door on you. I've put in too much work on this case to have it screwed up by a young fool that doesn't realize what people are trying to do for him.”

  Wendel said: “I'm paying Connell for what he does,” but he said it in a weak voice and started backing away from MacIntosh.

  MacIntosh said: “You didn't pay Connell to stand on the street and make a God-damned target of himself for a sharpshooter across the street. They don't make the kind of money that pays for things like that. He started out on a simple little divorce case and ended up in a murder. You don't pay for that, mister.”

  Mard said soothingly: “I'm sure Mr. Wendel will wait here with me. Won't you, Wendel?”

  Wendel said: “Yes!”

  MacIntosh snorted and said: “I'd hate like hell to come back and find him not here. Come on, Connell.”

  Lester said to me: “Can I come too?” There'd been so many hard words that I'd hardly had a chance to look at him. He was sitting over in the corner with a bright and interested look and watching MacIntosh and me through his goggles as though he'd never properly looked at us before. I looked at Mac and nodded the least bit and Mac said:

  “I guess so. He can stay back, if it gets rough.”

  Lester almost ran to the door before either of us changed our minds. The three of us went out and MacIntosh Crumbled: “I should take lip from a guy like that. What in the hell! All he's got is a bunch of money and I got a job of work to do.”

  Lester asked him: “Are you really a G-man?”

  Mac said: “I guess you'd call me that.”

  Lester looked at him as though he was getting a peek at God and said: “I've always wanted to know a G-man. I take a great interest in the laboratory course you men have the opportunity of studying. It must be very interesting.”

  Mac said: “Hell, kid, I've never been east of the Mississippi River. I wouldn't fool you. I'm the other sort of G-man that just works by guess and by God.”

  I said: “Lester, what Mr. MacIntosh is trying to say is this. He works on the special duty that his knowledge of the country and people fit him for. He's a specialist, as it were.”

  Lester said: “I understand,” and looked disappointed. I felt sorry for the kid; finding a God was made out of common clay must have hurt him as badly as when he discovered the Santa Claus story was false.

  We got in MacIntosh's sedan and went to the Station and picked up Kirby and one other cop. Kirby looked askance at Lester and I said: “He'll stay behind, out of the way, when the going gets rough.”

  Kirby grunted and Lester looked hurt. MacIntosh grinned and said: “It's liable to get rough right soon,” and headed the car toward the cribs. I said: “Lester, you stay in the car.”

  MacIntosh said: “What the hell, Connell. He ain't made of sugar or salt. Don't make a baby of him.”

  I said: “Okey! Lester, you can come along for the ride.”

  Lester beamed and wiggled a bit on the seat. He looked over at MacIntosh and, from the look, I could see God was back on earth again.

  Lester wanted to see fast action... even if he didn't understand it. Mac was giving it to him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THERE was forty-eight of the cribs and they were set in the shape of a horseshoe. Two long lines of little attached bungalow affairs and with a dance hall at the back. To get inside the horseshoe you had to go down a sort of lane, with a high board fence enclosing it on each side, then turn' to the right. Then you passed a little police booth, where a copper was on duty all the time. I suppose in case of disturbances; drunks and the girls fighting among themselves.

  The cop had a book with
the girls' names, ages, weights, and full descriptions in it. And with their records, if any. The record part was supposed to be checked but that's a hard thing to do; the girls changed all the time. The whole thing was legal, with the city taking a cut on the take.

  We sailed down the alley, turned by the booth, and MacIntosh stopped there and said: “Who's new, Joe?” to the young copper in the booth.

  The copper ruffled the leaves in his ledger and said in a bored voice: “Two today. Jean Allen and Frances Tremaine. Both are out of Frisco. Both are kids; Jean's twenty-two and the other's a year older. They're minding their business.”

  “Who brought 'em here?”

  The young cop widened his eyes and said: “I don't let a pimp inside the gate, Mac. You ought to know that.”

  “I mean to town.”

  He shrugged, said: “I don't know yet, haven't heard. I suppose the usual gang.”

  “They on the stuff?”

  He grinned on that one and said: “I'd bet a fin. I'll win nine out of ten times, won't I?”

  We went down the line at the right, with the gals leaning out the windows and talking to us. They were very frank about what they were talking about; too frank for Lester. He was red in the face and so embarrassed he could hardly keep up with us. Half way down the line the cop jerked his thumb at a tall blonde leaning out of her crib and said:

  “This one's Jean. Frances is at the end.”

  Kirby said to MacIntosh: “I'll get Frances. Get her dressed. This is all taking time.” He kept on with the young cop and Mac said to Jean:

  “Okey, kid. Get your clothes on and make it snappy.” She said: “What's the matter? Christ, I just got in town.” He said: “I didn't ask you about that. I said 'get your clothes on.' I'm in a hurry.”

  She saw he wasn't fooling and ducked back into her cubby-hole. She called back: “Just a minute, Chief. You ain't getting any cherry; I been pinched before.” Mac said: “Smart kid.”

  Lester said, in an awed voice: “Why she's hardly more than a child.”

  I said: “She's been farther under the barn after eggs than you've ever been away from home, kid. That's a tough baby.”

  “But she looks so ... well, sort of innocent.” MacIntosh turned a perfectly blank face toward me and it meant more than if he'd winked. I said: “That's the kind that make the dough. Oh, oh! What's the Chief run into?” Kirby had stopped down toward the end of the line and there was a knot of girls around him. They weren't making any noise, though, just a sort of murmur. Through it there was a muffled screaming that cut like a knife, even though it wasn't loud. I said to the cop that had driven down with us: “Stay here and watch this gal. We want her,” and followed MacIntosh and Lester to the knot of girls.

  Kirby was right in the middle of it. He was on his knees, holding his arm around a girl's shoulders, and he was red in the face and swearing. He said, as I came up: “Damn that doctor! If this girl has a bad pump I'll crucify him. One of you get some water, quick. And a drink of whiskey.”

  One of the girls turned and headed toward the dance hall, where there was a bar. The Chief looked up at us and said:

  “I told her to get her duds on and come along and damned if she didn't fold up. If she's got a bad heart I'll crucify that doctor, so help me I will.”

  Lester said: “Doctor!” to me. His face was pale instead of red and he kept looking around him as though he'd like to be any place but there. I said: “Sure. They look 'em over before they let 'em work. It's the law.”

  He said: “My God!”

  I was looking at the girl. She was a good looking kid but hard looking. The blonde, Jean, had a baby face and innocent look. This kid was dark and looked tougher than tripe. But pretty. The girl came back with water and half a bottle of whisky and the bar man came with her and said:

  “Let me! I know how.”

  He knelt down and lipped a towel in the water and started to slap the girl across the face with it. After a bit of this she started to moan and he dumped some whisky in the palm of his hand and held it over her nose and mouth. She started to strangle and cough and he grinned at the Chief and said:

  “That's the stuff to give the troops. What did she do; roll some guy?”

  The girl came out of it all the way then. She looked up at the Chief and sobbed out: “Oh don't arrest me. Please, please, don't arrest me. Please, please.”

  Lester started to look sick.

  The girl went on with: “They'll put my name in the paper and my folks will find it out. Please, please.”

  I said to Lester: “The primrose path, kid. How d'ya like it?”

  He didn't answer. I don't think he could have spoken a word if his life had depended on it. The Chief said:

  “Now look, honey! I'm not going to arrest you.”

  And then looked up and snapped at the ring of staring girls: “Take her in and get her dressed and do it fast. Move now.

  They helped her in the bungalow, and the Chief stuck his lower lip out like a bull dog and said: “She's got a lot of business here, by God. Somebody's going to answer for this.”

  MacIntosh said: “That's the idea, Kirb. Young Rucci is going to answer for it; that's why I want these girls.”

  Kirby came back to what he was supposed to be doing then. The blonde girl, Jean, came strolling down toward us, in no hurry and smoking a cigarette. The cop that had driven down with us was following her. Kirby said to the younger one, that had been in the booth:

  “See that this Frances girl is dressed and okey. Glen, here will take her and Jean, here, up to the station. You understand, Glen. Just put 'em in my office and sit there with 'em. No charges and nothing to the papers. If there's a leak on this from the station I'll blame you for it. You know what to do.”

  Glen said: “Sure,” and smiled at Jean. He was a stocky red-faced bird that looked as though he had a wife and family waiting at home. He said to Jean:

  “You see? You're not even going to see our jail, honey.”

  She said: “It won't be the first I've seen, buttons. Or maybe the last.”

  MacIntosh said: “Come on, let's go,” and Kirby and Lester and I started for the front. MacIntosh said to me:

  “I hate to see the kids in it, like this Frances. The blonde is hard-boiled but the other just is a damned fool. This caper will hold young Rucci for some little time.”

  Lester said nothing and Kirby kept grumbling about the doctor not giving the girl a looking over before passing her on the job.

  I said nothing either; it was none of my affair how Reno ran itself. My business was coming to a head and that's all I was concerned with at that time.

  It looked as though it might be plenty for three men and a boy to handle.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THE Three C Club was jammed solid when we got there. There was a car parked just before we got to it and MacIntosh slowed, then stopped by it. He said:

  “We'll go in first. The three of us. But we're liable to have trouble and need help. It's here.”

  This was a new one on me and I said so. Kirby hadn't expected this and mentioned the fact. Lester didn't have the faintest idea of what was going on and so said nothing. MacIntosh climbed out and said: “We might as well walk in from here. One of the boys will drive my car to the front. I want to go in the back way while you and Connell go in the front.”

  “Who are the boys?” I asked.

  I could see MacIntosh's grin in the car lights. “I'm a deputy-sheriff, ain't I? I just deputized a few of my friends. I've got that right. We're maybe going to need 'em. If we take any prisoners we'll have to have some help in getting them back.”

  I looked at my watch and saw it was eleven twenty. I said: “We've got forty minutes left, is all.”

  “That'll be plenty. Heinie, drive my car to the front for me, will you? You boys know what you're supposed to do.”

  A little short bald-headed man climbed from the parked car and said: “Sure, Len! We'll be watching.” He got in our car and Lester said:
“Shean, what will I do?”

  MacIntosh answered for me. He said: “You'll stay in the car, son. This is going to be no place for you.” And aside, to me: “I hope it won't be anyway. You and Kirb go in the front way. He knows who to look for and you must have an idea.”

  I said I had. He moved toward the back of the place, hauling out an old single-action .45, and Kirby and I gave him a couple of minutes to get around to the back and then went in the front.

  We must have looked like business because Gino Rucci saw us and started toward the back. Kirby gave one look at the crowd at the bar and started to call out names. He said: “You Bates! You Wilson! Sangini! Ellis! Get back from that bar and along the wall. Jump now.”

  He didn't have a gun in sight but the four men moved away from the bar and against the wall. I said:

  “You got it under control. I'm going back.”

  He nodded and said, without looking away from the four he'd picked: “Okey, go head.”

  I followed Rucci into the back room. He was almost at the back door when I saw him, and I stepped to one side, so my back would be against the wall, and cleared the gun from under my coat. Just in case. Rucci opened the back door, looking over his shoulder at me, and started out. He ran into MacIntosh, who was standing there. MacIntosh just reached a hand out and shoved, and Rucci, who still had his head craned back over his shoulder, twisted and fell on the dance floor. MacIntosh said: “And now?”

  I just happened to turn my head toward the booth at my right, one that was facing the back door, and I saw a dark, ugly-looking monkey come out with a gun. He held it just under the edge of the table, where MacIntosh couldn't possibly have seen it, but in plain sight from where I was. He was with a red-headed girl and I could hear him growl:

  “Beat it, kid! It's a sneeze I think.”

  The red head got out of the booth in a hurry and went past me and out in the front and I watched the dark man until I saw he wasn't going to start anything but was just waiting.

  And then I looked toward the door again.