Rockabye County 4

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Rockabye County 4 Page 14

by J. T. Edson


  The sight shocked Alice, even though a glance in the mirror would have shown her that she looked in little better shape.

  ‘Marla!’ she gasped, starting to rise and feeling her bra hang loose, its fastener burst open at some stage of the fight. ‘Cut it—’

  Mouthing curses, Marla flung herself forward. Only now she attacked a trained peace officer, one who knew how to handle such a situation. Still on her knees, Alice lashed around a right fist, catching Marla’s jaw and knocking the blonde sideways across the room.

  Marla landed hard, rolling over, yet she came up and rushed forward again. Stepping in, Alice ripped her left fist into Marla’s belly. A moan left the blonde’s lips as her hand clutched at her middle and she doubled over. On the heels of the belly blow, Alice brought up her knee, driving it into the down-dropping face. Fortunately for Marla, she had gone back a step on being hit, so the knee hit her forehead instead of landing on her nose. The force of the attack still lifted Marla erect and Alice swung a roundhouse left. Pain and numbness knifed into Alice as her fist smashed into the side of Marla’s jaw. The blow snapped the blonde head to one side and sent Marla sprawling on to the divan, where she hung limp and still.

  Staggering in exhaustion, Alice almost fell. She stumbled towards the door just as it burst open. Weems, a furious-looking, well-dressed big man and a couple of maids crowded forward into the room.

  ‘What the hell?’ the big man roared, staring from Alice to Marla. ‘Grab her, you women. Weems, go call an ambulance, Dr. Hosewith and the cops!’

  Her breath coming in saw-rasping grunts, Alice could not speak and she felt too exhausted to resist as the two maids caught her by the arms. Suddenly she realized her position and knew that her career as a peace officer would most likely be at an end.

  Before Weems could obey his employer’s order, the doorbell chimed. Crossing the hall and opening the door, Weems found himself face to face with Brad Counter. The big deputy took one look at Weems, then through the door of the sitting room.

  An angry growl left Brad’s lips at what he saw. He swept by the butler and across the hall, making for the sitting room. A cold, sinking feeling drove into the big deputy’s belly as he saw the battered Alice held by the maids. It seemed that he had reached the Blumfeld place too late.

  ‘Who the hell’re you?’ growled Blumfeld as Brad entered the room.

  ‘Counter, deputy sheriff.’

  ‘I don’t know how the hell you got here so quick,’ Blumfeld barked and pointed a finger at Alice. ‘That frail bust in here and attacked my wife. Take her in.’

  Ignoring the man, Brad looked at Alice. ‘What started it?’

  ‘I just told you—’ Blumfeld bellowed. ‘Take her—’

  ‘What started it, Alice?’ Brad repeated.

  ‘You know her?’ barked Blumfeld.

  ‘She’s my partner,’ Brad replied.

  Being a professional gambler taught a man to control his emotions, but Blumfeld’s normally expressionless face showed surprise and anger as he glared from Brad to Alice and then back again.

  ‘She’s your—’

  ‘Suppose we have the women-folks see to their hurts first,’ Brad interrupted.

  While Brad’s words might not have brought any effect, a groan from Marla caused Blumfeld to snap an order. The two maids released Alice and she fell into a chair. Reaction set in and she began to sob, her hands pulling the blouse together in a belated attempt to hide her half-naked condition.

  Brad could see that Alice was in no serious danger and so turned his attention to where the maids had rolled Marla on to her back upon the divan. One of the women darted from the room and returned with a first-aid box. Showing considerable knowledge of handling fight injuries, the maids started to work on Marla. Not until sure his wife would be all right did Blumfeld turn from her. He strode across the room and stood glaring at Brad and Alice.

  ‘I don’t give a damn who she is,’ he snarled. ‘I want her taken in for assaulting my wife.’

  ‘Not until I hear who and what started the fight,’ Brad answered.

  ‘Weems!’ Blumfeld barked. ‘Go call my lawyer.’

  ‘And while you’re at it, Weems,’ Brad put in before the butler could move, ‘call Howard Thirston at his office, ask him to come over.’

  ‘Thirston?’ grunted Blumfeld, knowing that to be the name of one of the shrewdest lawyers in Texas.

  ‘He handles my family’s affairs down here and I figure Miss Fayde needs legal representation in this matter,’ Brad answered calmly.

  Blumfeld watched Brad with a gambler’s eyes and read no hint that the big deputy might be trying a bluff. Studying Brad’s clothing, Blumfeld estimated their value and knew that such an outfit cost far more than a deputy living on his salary could afford. Blumfeld knew also that the control of Rockabye County’s law-enforcement organization was such that no officer could make enough in graft to clothe himself so well and remain undetected. Finally, the name Counter meant something to Blumfeld and he did not doubt that Brad could call on Thirston’s services.

  ‘All right,’ Blumfeld said defiantly. ‘Call your lawyer.’

  Thrusting the maids’ hands from her, Marla sat stiffly up and said, ‘Stan!’

  ‘Yes, honey?’

  ‘There’s no need to talk of sending for lawyers. Alice and I are old friends and she came to visit me. You know I’ve been learning judo? Well she offered to teach me a few throws. I landed awkwardly and lost my temper. When I grabbed hair, Alice lost her’s too and we tangled. But it wasn’t anybody’s fault.’

  For a moment Alice stared at Marla, their eyes locking. Alice knew that Marla did not speak out of charitable motives, or because her conscience troubled her. Being aware of how much Alice’s career meant to her, Marla took a more subtle revenge than sending the deputy before the Commissioners’ Disciplinary Board to be broken. For the rest of her life Alice would know she owed her position to Marla.

  ‘It’s a l—!’ Alice began.

  Brad swung towards her, his face set and hard. ‘Go out and wait in my car!’ he ordered, and as the girl hesitated went on, ‘Do it, damn you, Alice, or I’ll—’

  The words trailed off and Alice saw his right hand quivering. At any moment she expected to feel his palm lash across her face and knew why. Like Alice, Brad was a career peace officer. His whole career hung in the balance and she knew that he staked it to dig her out of a jam her momentary foolishness brought her into. Instead of helping, she tried to state that Marla lied. Slowly she turned and walked out of the room. Brad watched her go before turning to Blumfeld.

  ‘Do you accept your wife’s explanation, sir?’

  ‘If that’s the way she wants it.’

  ‘It is, Stan,’ Marla stated.

  ‘Then that’s the way it is!’ grunted Blumfeld.

  ‘I’d like to see your chauffeur before I leave, sir,’ Brad said.

  ‘Why?’ Blumfeld asked. ‘And don’t give me that “just routine” bit.’

  ‘Last night three young men were waiting for me outside the Beverly Arms and I’ve reason to believe that Rosenthal was one of them. Don’t trouble to ask me why I believe it, but I’ve strong enough reasons and want to see him.’

  ‘Where is he, Weems?’ Blumfeld inquired.

  ‘He returned from town somewhat hurriedly last night, sir,’ the butler answered. ‘I heard him drive off again soon after. On looking into his room this morning I discovered all his belongings had gone, as is his private car.’

  ‘Why didn’t you—’ Blumfeld began.

  ‘What make of car, Weems?’ Brad interrupted.

  ‘A ’58 Dodge hardtop, sir. Light gray in color. I’m afraid I don’t know the number,’ Weems replied and turned to Blumfeld. ‘You left orders not to be disturbed, sir, and I have already attended to the matter of a replacement for Rosenthal.’

  ‘Why’d you figure Rosenthal wouldn’t be back?’ Brad inquired.

  ‘A most unstable young man, sir. I fear steady em
ployment was not for him.’

  ‘Thanks for your time, sir,’ Brad said, turning to Blumfeld. ‘I’m sorry about what happened here. Would it be possible for somebody to drive Miss Fayde’s car to the Chadwick Building? She’s in no condition to drive. I’ll pay the return cab fare.’

  ‘The gardener, Montez, could attend to it, sir,’ Weems suggested.

  ‘See to it,’ grunted Blumfeld. ‘And you, Counter, keep that partner of yours away from here. I don’t want my wife involved in any more—judo lessons.’

  ‘She won’t be back,’ Brad promised grimly and walked from the room. He left the house and went to where a dejected Alice sat in his M.G. Looking down at her, he saw something was missing. ‘Where’s your bag?’

  ‘At home,’ she answered, just a touch defiantly.

  Swinging into his car without another word, Brad drove down the path and from the Blumfeld place. He gave savage concentration to handling the M.G. and did not as much as look at the girl. At last Alice broke the silence.

  ‘She lied about it, Brad.’

  ‘And you’re still a deputy, not facing an assault rap or the Disciplinary Board,’ Brad answered, his voice brittle and angry. ‘And neither am I.’

  ‘But I owe that to her!’ Alice spat out.

  ‘You ought to have thought of that before you went to see her. But you went looking for a fight and got one. If you’d been handling the matter officially, you’d have called me and brought your bag along.’

  With female lack of logic, Alice turned on Brad. ‘Stop this car ri—’

  ‘So help me, Alice,’ Brad growled. ‘If you start to go woman on me, I’ll slap your teeth in. Now sit there and don’t speak until you can talk sense.’

  Alice relapsed into silence, tears trickling down her cheeks. Nor did Brad offer to speak to her until the spasm ended. At last Alice regained partial control of herself and, looking around, discovered they were still in Upton Heights.

  ‘I’m taking you to see a doctor,’ Brad told her. ‘You need fixing up a mite.’

  Although Alice had heard of the doctor Brad took her to see, she never expected to find herself as his patient for he ran the most exclusive practice in the city. However, the doctor greeted Brad as a hunting and fishing friend and told Alice to go into his office.

  With her wounds treated, Alice rode in Brad’s car to her apartment where she changed back into her working clothes. When she tried to express her thanks, he laughed them off, saying that if one hoped to succeed in any field one must take good care of one’s senior partner.

  Shortly before four o’clock Alice and Brad entered the sheriff's office squad room and found both watches present. The other deputies looked her over with interest, word of the attack on her having spread around. Coming over, Grantley studied Alice’s two blackened eyes, swollen lip and a couple of plaster-covered places on her cheeks where nails had left their marks.

  ‘How about coming over to my place tonight, Alice?’ he asked, grinning. ‘I’d like to show Vera that she’s a heap better off as a retired policewoman.’

  All the others had some remark to make, the usual razzing a well-liked member of their department received when sporting battle-scars.

  ‘What the hell happened to you?’ asked Joan when she finally managed to get Alice alone, for she knew her friend had only one shiner when she left the apartment to come on watch that morning.

  ‘Let it drop, Joan,’ Alice pleaded.

  ‘Sure, honey, the boys were rough enough on you. Only they don’t often get to see a woman officer mussed up. Say, a fuzz from Greevers called, said he’d followed your man to the Acme Bonding Company on Lennon. Then D.M.V. came through and said the car you wanted made belongs to Thomas Yardley. I ran a check on him, he’s a punk who acts as go-between for Caldicott.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Alice answered. ‘I’m going in to see Jack.’

  ‘Bucking for sick leave?’ smiled Joan.

  ‘I may not have to,’ Alice replied soberly and walked slowly from the room.

  Rising, Joan went to where Brad sat at his team’s desk. ‘What’s with our gal, Brad?’ she asked. ‘Who handed her the other shiner?’

  ‘Not me, that’s for sure,’ he replied.

  McCall entered the office and came straight to Brad’s desk, a large envelope in his hand.

  ‘I.C.R. just flew this in,’ he said, and for once his voice showed some trace of excitement. ‘The F.B.I. made those fingerprints we sent in. On their civilian files, which’s what took them so long. George Henry Sleath, a section eighter discharged from the army on psychopathic grounds. Released from hospital as cured six years ago. Present whereabouts unknown.’

  Taking the official mug shot and record card from McCall, Brad studied the front view and both profiles of a thin-faced man. Then he lifted the composite drawing of ‘Sloane’ from the desk. Though not exactly alike, they showed enough resemblance for him to feel certain that the man the witnesses tried to describe and Sleath were one and the same.

  ‘There’s a lab report on your desk,’ Joan remarked, taking the card from Brad’s hands.

  Brad picked up the report and read it. Comparison tests established that one of the hair oil samples from the pillow at the Junior Street garage matched up with that on Sloane’s pillow in the Bestwick Hotel room.

  ‘Which makes Sleath our man for the Junior Street torch job,’ McCall remarked. ‘Wonder why.’

  ‘The car was there, maybe the owner saw Sleath and his partner and they rubbed him because they were afraid he’d start running scared,’ Brad guessed.

  ‘Looks that way,’ agreed the watch commander. ‘You and Alice had best start hitting the hotels, see if you can pick up either Sleath or Jackson.’

  ‘I’ll tend to it as soon as she comes back,’ Brad promised. Only he knew that what he meant was if she came back in. Knowing why she asked for an interview with the sheriff, Brad could only hope that Jack Tragg took a lenient view of Alice’s actions that morning and did not suspend the girl from duty prior to taking her before the County Commissioners’ Disciplinary Board and having her broken to policewoman if not discharged from the Department completely.

  Sixteen

  Almost half an hour passed before Alice returned to the office. The day watch had logged off and Brad was alone when she entered, walking in the stiff-backed, rigid-faced manner of a woman fighting to hold down tears. Still holding herself tightly in check, she studied the F.B.I.’s mug shots of Sleath and glanced at S.I.B. report.

  ‘Mac says for us to hit the hotels and see if we can trace Sleath,’ Brad told her.

  ‘L-let’s do it then,’ she replied.

  Not until riding shotgun in SO 12 did Alice break down. For almost three minutes she sobbed bitterly. At last the fit passed and she turned a wet, red-eyed face to her partner.

  ‘I—I t-told Jack. Lord, I’ve never seen him so angry. He said I’d not only loused up any chance we might have had of nailing Marla, but that I queered the best opportunity we’re likely to get to nail Caldicott’s hide to the wall. And I did it too.’

  ‘Yep, you did it too,’ agreed Brad.

  ‘I thought he’d suspend me, or break me,’ Alice went on, ignoring the interruption. ‘But instead he just bawled me out.’

  ‘And you deserved it.’

  ‘Don’t you start, Brad Counter!’ Alice wailed. ‘I know I deserved it. I deserve breaking and being put back pounding a traffic beat. Only y-you d-don’t even think I’m fit for that.’

  ‘Knock it off, Alice!’ Brad snapped. ‘You’re acting like a green rookie getting her wrist slapped for the first time.’

  ‘I’ve been bawled out before,’ Alice admitted. ‘But by B.W.O. sergeants. Why, Jack Tragg didn’t even treat me as a woman. He said—’

  ‘He treated you the way he’d treat any deputy who made a damned fool mistake and nearly wound up before the Disciplinary Board.’

  Alice stared at Brad, her mouth hanging open. Suddenly she saw the bawling-out in its true pers
pective. Ever since entering the sheriff’s office she had been striving for equal acceptance with the men. Now it seemed that Jack Tragg had accepted her. That was why he did not treat her as a woman, even a policewoman, but handled her as he would a member—a useful member—of his staff who had made a damned fool mistake, but who could be relied upon not to repeat her folly.

  ‘We—we’ll try the hotels like the Newnes and Bestwick first,’ she said and her old voice had returned. ‘Might be best to hit the temperance places first.’

  ‘Yes sir, ma’am,’ grinned Brad, throwing her a salute. ‘You’re the boss—again.’

  ‘After what happened today?’

  ‘What did happen today?’ Brad countered. ‘Hey though, before we get back to normal I’d like to give you a last order.’

  ‘Feel free,’ she smiled.

  ‘Then you dry off your face and put some make-up on. Happen I’m seen out with you like you look now, word might get around that I beat my girls into submission. That would plumb ruin the family name.’

  Looking into the car’s rear-view mirror, Alice studied the state of her face and gave a little squeal of embarrassment at what she saw. Hurriedly she dug into her bag and produced the necessary items to repair the damage. With feminine vanity satisfied, she settled down to the business of making a partial search of the city’s hotels in the hope of flushing out Tom Cord’s killers.

  One team of deputies, even in a fast modern car, could not hope to visit every hotel and rooming house in the city, at least not in a single day. However, most crooks could be relied on to follow a set pattern; using the same methods of operation in the commission of the crime, inhabiting the same type of accommodation in between jobs. The professional killers had stayed in middle-rent type hotels, Sleath using one which prohibited the sale of liquor within its walls. Other temperance hotels would be the first objectives in Alice and Brad’s search.

 

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