by Steve Fisher
I’d remember Lanny Craig saying: “They crucified me … it was because of Vicky Lynn!” And the night Robin Ray said:
”She’d laugh, see, and it was like music of a Jackie Gleason album.” And Hurd Evans: “I only get two hundred and fifty a week.” Tick-tock, the faceless dock on Sunset. “It’s possible to build a case out of nothing,” the assistant district attorney said. Where was Harry Williams? If he’d been murdered, where was his body?
“Darling, you’ve made half a dozen mistakes. I don’t think we’d better play any more. You’re worried, aren’t you, sweet?”
“No. Only I was thinking.”
“Of what?”
“That if Ed Cornell could build up a case against me— why couldn’t I do the same thing to somebody else?”
“Silly, he’s a detective. He knows all about how to do it.”
“Granted. But I wonder if I happen to be right? Wonder if there was one thing that would prove it beyond all shadow of doubt?”
“What is the one thing?”
“Harry Williams’ corpse.”
“How do you know he is a corpse?”
“I don’t.”
“Well?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I was just going over a lot of things. I’m mixed up now. But there’s got to be a solution, don’t you see?”
“The police haven’t figured it out.”
“I know. But I’m Renfrew of the Mounted—remember?” I lit a cigarette and got up and walked over to the window. Jill came up behind me. She had nice soft hips, and I put my hands on her hips and kissed her cheek, and her ears.
“If it wasn’t for you, Jill—none of this’d matter. But—you make me want to fight.”
“Darling, you can’t fight the world.”
“No, but I can try. The whole thing is so complex. If only I could see some ray of light through it!”
“You say you suspect Hurd or Lanny or Robin. But you aren’t even sure of that.”
“No. I’m not sure of anything.”
“It’ll work out.”
I shook my head. “Nothing ever works out by itself.”
We stood together at the window and were silent. The radio across the court had gone off and the night was very quiet. Yet on every street and in every avenue the police were hunting us.
By Christmas my beard was very good and I put on the dungarees and the seaman’s woolen cap and a pair of green glasses and went out on the street in daylight. It was a cloudy day, almost gray, and the air was crisp and cold. Jill would not let me spend money on food but I bought a little table-sized Christmas tree that had been marked down to fifteen cents, and in a drug store I got a box of tinsel for a dime.
I returned to the apartment and set the tree up. Jill made popcorn and these white puffs I hung on the small branches with strips of tinsel. It took me a long time to complete the job; when I was finished the tree was all white and silver. The early darkness had come outside, and it looked very pretty.
“Look, Jill, ain’t it elegant?”
“Oh, Peg, it’s beautiful! How did you ever dress it like that?”
“It’s nothing, really, Miss Lynn. Take off your clothes and give me a string of popcorn and I’ll do as much for you.”
She laughed. “You would, too! Supper’s on. And please hurry, darling. This is our Christmas dinner, you know.”
She had turned off the lights in the kitchenette and lighted little five-cent candles. They were red candles and they flickered very brightly, one at my place, and one at hers. I sat down, and Jill brought the first course. It was a bowl of bread and milk on which she had sprinkled some sugar. She sat down, and I lifted my spoon, but she shook her head.
“I think on Christmas we should say grace.”
“All right.”
She bowed her head and folded her hands. There in the candlelight it seemed to me that she looked very lovely.
“Dear God, we thank You for the food we are about to receive. And we thank You for this, for—” She looked up. “Oh, Peg! I am thankful!” Tears splashed down her face. “You’ll never know how much our love means to me!”
“Poor sweet!”
She wiped away the tears. “Merry Christmas, darling! Do you know something? This is the loveliest Christmas I’ve ever had!”
We ate the bread and milk and when we were finished she brought on white flakes of tuna fish which was meant to be the turkey. The tuna fish was crisp and delicious and we ate all of it. For dessert she had prepared raspberry junket. We stayed in the kitchenette drinking our coffee until very late and the radio across the court was tuned to Christmas carols. The carols sounded dear and sweet. Our candles burned down to fat red stubs and we blew them out and went into the other room.
On the third of January we ran out of money and there was not enough food left for supper. Less was printed about us in the papers these days. The only news items were those concerning gasoline station attendants who claimed they saw us. There was one in San Diego and another somewhere in Montana. They were positive we had driven in and bought gas, and if we were found in that vicinity they thought it only fair that they should receive part of the reward.
Jill and I did not talk about the food situation. We agreed that we should not appear together outside any longer, it was too dangerous. When I left that day I said I was going to try and find some kind of a job.
“Peg, be careful.”
“I will. But there should be some kind of a job I could do. I’ll take a walk along the waterfront.”
“I can’t imagine you a stevedore.”
“Neither can!. They have unions. But there may be a part time job I could get.”
“I doubt it.”
“Well, a man can try.”
She was picking at a thread on her skirt. “What time will you be back?”
“In time for—” I caught myself.
“Say it, Peg! In time for supper.”
“There’ll be supper,” I said. “You wait and see!”
All of that morning I marched doggedly from place to place. I went into lumber yards and ship yards, and to factories. In the afternoon I was hungry and very tired. I walked along the’ pike. Now on a winter afternoon the amusement palaces were almost entirely shut down. The only concessions open were a few stray hot dog stands, a lonely roller coaster, and a taxi dance hall which ran matinees every afternoon and did a fine business. Sailors and longshoremen flocked to it. I stood in the doorway for a moment and watched. The dance floor was dark but crowded. The music was raucous and there was the cheap smell of hot armpits and gaudy perfume.
I left and went on in search of work. I applied everywhere along the waterfront. Sometimes I ran into queues of men waiting to fill a job, and I waited in one queue for an hour and fifteen minutes. It was at a side door of a cannery and some of the men had been here since ten o’clock. In the end a foreman came out and told us that the jobs had been taken.
It was early dusk, and past the supper hour. Jill would be waiting for me, but I was exhausted and very discouraged. I had never been quite so hungry. I walked along the beach and after a while I lay down on the sand and closed my eyes. For a moment I saw red spots and then they went away.
There was a cooling breeze from the ocean. It felt very good and I began to think of Hollywood. Could Lanny Craig have killed Vicky? Somehow I was unable to entertain the thought. That was the trouble with me: it was so difficult to suspect these men I had known. Robin Ray had been in love with Vicky. All right. He had admitted it. Jill had said that she was going to tell Robin—on the day that she was murdered!—that she was leaving him for me.
I suddenly sat bolt upright.
I remembered it had once been in the gossip columns that Robin was incapable of holding his women. He had been thrown over by a couple of second-rate stars and it embarrassed him very much. Besides, in the hands of gossips, it was bad publicity. He played virile roles and it cast a reflection on his manhood. If it happened again—spectacularly
enough—it could hurt his career. His career was somewhat rocky anyway. “Let’s face it, old man. My roles are getting worse. My option’s running short.”
That was established. Robin could not afford to be publicly jilted by another woman. It was ridiculous, but there it was. And tons of publicity had linked Robin’s name with Vicky’s. Supposing she had told him on the day of the murder that she was going to leave him! What if they had argued about it—violently! First because he actually loved her, and second because his career couldn’t stand having her leave him. What if they had argued and—.
I was on my feet.
I recalled that day in the commissary we had first discussed promoting Vicky. There had been a big, shiny ring on Robin’s finger. He wore it constantly: yet I hadn’t seen it since the day of the murder! If he had hit her wearing that ring, had struck her on the side of the head—.
I paused. Could this have happened in his car?
I started back to the apartment. Yes, that was it! In his car. He had picked her up on Sunset after she signed the contract. They could have argued and in a wild rage he could have hit her. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to.
I could scarcely get my breath. All of the scattered thoughts that had been in my mind were falling together and I was beginning to see the picture they made. Now one more link dropped into place.
”I’ll drink to the dope that put a new windshield in my car and didn’t make it shatter-proof glass. I’ll drink to him.”
”Did you break your windshield?” I had said.
”Yes, that was about a month ago.”
The murder had been committed a month before he said that! What a fool I’d been not to see it!
Yet, if there were anything to this suspicion, if he had killed her in the car—how was it she had been found in the apartment?
I thought it out slowly. There could have been the argument in the car. He had lost his temper and hit her. In the excitement he had let go of the wheel and swerved into another car or against the curb, with such a crash that the windshield had shattered.
He got control of himself then and drove away from the scene of the accident. Vicky was unconscious or dead from his blow. But at this point he couldn’t have possibly known that she was dead or going to die. He wouldn’t have realized that he had hit her that hard. His only thought was to get her home.
He had parked the car at the side entrance of the apartment and carried her in through the door and up the back steps. If by this time he realized she was dead, it was too late to change his course. He must have been terrified!
He had to get her into the apartment somehow and he must have searched her purse for the key. He wouldn’t have found it. She had given it to me. What had he done? There was a fire escape on that side of the building and he could have taken her out on that and in through the windows.
The fire escape windows had been open when I found Vicky’s body!
Robin must have left her there on the floor and gone in to the hall. But Harry Williams had been coming down the hall, just the way Ed Cornell had described it, and Robin had run into him. Robin had been in the position Cornell had charged me with facing. And Robin had consequently taken care of Harry Williams!
It was complete now. Complete! I was half running to get back to the apartment.
How could I prove it! How could I possibly prove these things?
I didn’t know. I wanted to talk to Jill about it. Pieced together it all seemed amazingly dear. There were certain points: the ring, the shattered windshield, and the motive—on which I couldn’t possibly be wrong.
The apartment was several blocks from the waterfront and I was already out of breath. I was getting that hot pain you get in your side when you run. The street was crowded with people, and I brushed past them. Old ladies with bundles; guys taking their girls to the movies; kids selling papers. Trucks went by, and the local busses, their lights shining in the night. You could hear a traffic cop’s whistle, and the danging bell as a signal light changed. No one seemed excited. No one noticed me. I was late getting back. Jill would be worried. She’d be terribly worried. I had been gone all day. I was suddenly glad! had someone to whom I could pour out these things. There were less people on the street now. I was nearly there.
That last block was awful. Then I came in through the little courts and to the door of the one which belonged to us. I unlocked it and went in. The room was empty. I glanced toward the kitchenette. There was no one in it.
“Jill,” I said. I was suddenly scared. “Jill!”
There was no answer.
21
I MUST HAVE gone a little crazy. I went into the kitchenette and shouted her name. I walked all around the apartment. I was shaking. I’d never felt an emotion like this. It was a hell of a lot more than fear. I haven’t any word for it. I thought I was going to start crying. I didn’t know what to do. I fumbled in my pocket for a cigarette. There weren’t any. We’d run out of cigarettes as well as food. I searched all my pockets. Then I picked up a butt from an ash tray and held it between my fingers and lit it. It had a bad taste.
The apartment was so damned empty! I tried to think. Where was she? Now I saw something on the chair. I walked over and looked at it. It was her corduroy skirt and brown and white sweater. On the floor there was a little wad of tinfoil. I didn’t know where the tinfoil had come from. I rushed to the closet and opened it. The green dress was gone. She was wearing her good dress. Perhaps she’d left me! Maybe she was sick of all this!
No!
I couldn’t believe it. I sat down in a chair and pinched out the cigarette butt, and sucked for my breath. I didn’t know what to do. My damn teeth were aching. What should I do? I wanted to go out and search the streets for het But Long Beach was a big town. I wouldn’t have had a chance that way. I couldn’t think about Robin Ray. I didn’t care about that any more. Jill was the only thing in the world that mattered.
I sat as though I were made of stone. The wind rustled the curtains at the window, and the radio across the court was going. That damned radio! Perhaps Jill had gotten a job. Maybe she had landed a temporary position as a clerk in a store; or in some small shop. Sure, that was it! I felt relieved. I got up and paced the room. I looked around for another butt but there were no more. Or else they were all so little you couldn’t get them lighted.
Maybe Jill was at the taxi dance trying to make money for us. The little fool! Would she do that! A thing like that! It was possible. Of course it was! Anything was possible.
Only, Dear God, don’t have it that anything happened to her. I’ll do anything you say, God, only make Jill safe. Don’t let the cops get her, God! Don’t let that happen. I’ll go to church every Sunday if you want, but don’t let the cops get Jill!
She was at the taxi dance. That was it. Poor sweet kid, she’d be back any time now. We would have fun when she got back. It wouldn’t even matter if we didn’t eat. Just so she was here. We’d have fun. Just being together and laughing together. There was no night with Jill and no darkness. You can love a woman and it’s like that. I loved everything about her. I loved her soul and I loved her body. She’d come in and I’d laugh. I’d say, “Hello, honey. Gee, you look swell, honey!”
I sat down on the bed, and laid the cards out in a game of solitaire. But I couldn’t play. I was all shot. It was getting later. My God, where was she? I got up and went to the window. I watched through the window and I could look out through the court and see the street. Where in the hell are you, Jill!
Why didn’t she come home? I didn’t want her working in any taxi dance hall. Dancing with those guys and rubbing up against them and breathing that rotten perfume. I didn’t even want her derking in a store. Or a market. If there was any money to be made I’d make it.
I could stand it no longer and I left the apartment and went out on the street where I could see her when she came home. The main avenue was a quarter of a block up and this street was dark and empty. I leaned against a big palm tree. I was still
groping around in my empty pockets for a cigarette.
I stood there very quietly against the tree. I don’t know how long I was there. Suddenly I was aware that a car had slid up to the curb and stopped. It was a radio patrol car!
The cops in it didn’t see me there in the dark. They were staring into the court. My heart began to hammer. I was going to pieces. Why were they here? What were they doing here? I was sick.
The cops were looking into the court. Sitting in the car and peering from the window. They didn’t even glance my way. I began to make out what they were saying.
“See anything?”
“No. This is a pain in the neck—having to check back here every hour.”
“Yeah.”
“They had a detective in there until six o’clock. If he was coming back he’d have been back before then.”
“Sure.”
“Like the girl said—he must have shipped aboard that foreign tanker that left last night.”
“Yeah. He was the kind of a heel that’d do that—take a powder on the girl. All those guys are the same. I wish to hell I could get my hands on the son of a bitch just once!”
“Say—”
“Yeah?”
“Wait a minute. The lights are on in that apartment!”
The other stared into the court.
“He must have come back. Come on, let’s get going!”
They piled out of the car and rushed into the court. Sweat was rolling off my body and for a moment I couldn’t move. Jill’s arrested! Jill’s arrested! I heard it over and over. I couldn’t stop hearing it. It was a screaming that echoed in my head. Jill’s arrested. The cops got her! They got her! They got her!
The cops were breaking into the apartment.
I began to run. I ran up the street, cut through back yards. I ran down another street, then I got into an alley. In the alley I stopped running.
I walked. I walked along the dark streets and on the bright ones and I didn’t care who saw me. I walked through the park on Ocean Avenue and sat under the city lights and I saw tramps sleeping on benches and lovers walking by. The lovers were talking very low. Once I saw a couple kiss. They stood and kissed as though nothing else mattered. I left there and walked along the pike. In a big wire trash barrel I found a newspaper. I took the newspaper over under the lights on the roller coaster platform and read it.