*****
Toey Marsh was enjoying himself. He liked nothing better than to throw a party with Chinese food prepared by himself for a few boy friends, and after the eating, to put on discs on the gramophone and have a social evening lasting to three o’clock in the morning. His party was obviously a big success. He stood by the open window watching the boys dancing together, chattering and laughing and looking admiringly at him. His one regret was that Moe Lincoln hadn’t come. Moe fascinated him, and he kept assuring himself that sooner or later Moe would leave Jacko and come to him.
Freda, a young blond Negro, minced across the room.?‘Someone wants you on the phone, dear,’ he said. ‘Just wouldn’t say who he is.’
Toey went into the hall and picked up the receiver. His face brightened with excitement as he recognised Moe’s voice.
‘Toey,’ Moe said, ‘I’m across the way in the Drug Store. I want you over here for five minutes.’
‘Come on up, baby,’ Toey said. ‘Join the party. Come on, baby. You’ll have lots of fun.’?‘I want to talk to you alone,’ Moe said. ‘Is Freda there?’?‘Yes, but…’?‘Then you come down here. I don’t want him around while I’m talking to you. I’ve got something to say to you alone.’
‘You have? What, baby?’?‘Jacko and me have had a row. Come on, Toey, for Judas’ sake!’ ‘You mean you two have quarrelled?’
‘Not a word to anyone. Come on, Toey. I want to talk to you. Hurry it up!’?‘I’m coming,’ Toey said and replaced the receiver. He thought: At last! After all this wait! I’ll give him the big front room! I’ll have it done over and it’ll need a better bed, but…’
Freda, standing in the doorway, interrupted Toey’s thoughts by asking, ‘Who was that?’ Toey frowned at him. He was bored with Freda now.?‘No one you know,’ he said. ‘Go back to the party. I don’t like being spied on.’
Freda gave him a hurt look and returned to the apartment, but as soon as he heard Toey start down the stairs, he silently peered over the banister rail.
He saw Toey reach the dimly lit lobby and make for the front entrance, then he heard Toey give a quick gasp and saw him stumble forward on his hands and knees. Out of the darkness, knife in hand, Moe appeared for a few fleeting, horrible seconds as he thrust the knife twice more into Toey’s fat back. Then Moe, like a black ghost, was gone and Freda heard a car start up and drive away. He ran screaming back into the crowded apartment.
The news of Toey Marsh’s murder reached police headquarters as Terrell entered the operations room. Two plain clothes officers had Freda with them. Sobbing and moaning, he blurted out to Terrell what he had seen.
‘Take him away and lock him up,’ Terrell said. ‘Send the wagon out and collect the rest of them. Get Hess with the boys over there. Send out a State alarm for Lincoln.’
While this was being dealt with, he drew Beigler aside.?‘What the hell’s happening in this town?’ he said. ‘Three murders in two days. You know something? I’m scared about that little girl, Angel Prescott. She’s the one witness who can pin Henekey’s murder on those two. I must be slipping. I should have given her a police guard.’
‘I’ll alert the nearest patrol to go to the Motel,’ Beigler said, reaching for the microphone. ‘Think it would be an idea to pick her up with her mother and bring them here?’
Terrell hesitated, then shook his head.?‘Tell them to take them to my home. Carrie will look after them for a couple of days until we find these two hoods. Detail one of the boys to guard the house. Still no news of Jacko?’
‘No. Looks as if he’s skipped town,’ Beigler said and started to call the patrol cars. A minute later, he turned to Terrell, ‘A car will be there in five minutes. They’ll take the Prescotts right to your house, Chief.’
When Moe reached the Park Motel, he found Hoppy waiting for him.
‘A couple of cops took the kid and the woman away about twenty minutes ago,’ Hoppy reported.
‘They were in that cabin,’ and he pointed.
Moe knew then for certain the child had seen Jacko. He cursed, then telling Hoppy to get lost, he drove fast to the nearest drug store and called Lee Hardy’s penthouse.
As the telephone bell began to ring, Hardy unlocked his front door and entered the penthouse. As he walked into the big lounge, he was startled to see Jacko Smith lolling in one of his chairs, the telephone receiver clamped to his fat ear.
Jacko was saying, ‘Come back here, Moe. Watch it. Dump the car and come in the bus. They know my car,’ and he hung up.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Hardy said furiously.
Jacko eyed him.?‘We’re in trouble,’ he said softly. ‘You, me and Moe. The cops are looking for us.’
Gina came to the doorway.?‘Tell that fat louse to get out of here!’ she screamed. ‘He forced his filthy…’?‘Shut up!’ Jacko snarled. He looked at Hardy. It’s Henekey.’
Hardy lost colour. He turned to Gina. ‘Look, Pekie, will you wait in the bedroom? I’ll handle him.’
‘I’m going out!’ Gina said. ‘If you imagine I’m going to breathe the same air as this fat slug, you’re mistaken! You handle him… I’m going to a movie!’
‘Stay here!’ Jacko said viciously as she began to move to the door.
Gina paused and was about to release a stream of abuse when she saw the .38 automatic in his hand, pointing at her. She had been in many difficult situations in her young life, but no one had ever pointed a gun at her before with such glaring, killing eyes behind it. She stared at the gun, not moving.
Hardy said, ‘Put that gun away!’ But there was no real snap in his voice and he looked a little sick.
‘She stays here!’ Jacko said.
Hardy hesitated, then to Gina, ‘Better go to your room, Pekie.’
‘What’s the matter with you?’ Gina shrilled. ‘You’re not letting this fat slob dictate to you, are you?’
‘Get out!’ Jacko said and heaved himself out of his chair.
As Hardy made no move to protect her, she turned and ran into her bedroom, slamming the door. Hardy walked over to the cocktail cabinet and poured himself a large Scotch.
‘Have you gone nuts, Jacko?’ he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. ‘Put that goddamn gun away!’
Jacko lowered his bulk into the chair. He laid the gun on the broad arm of the chair as he watched Hardy take a drink.
‘The cops know we knocked off Henekey,’ he said. ‘They’ve got a witness.’?‘Damn you!’ Hardy exclaimed, his face flushing with rage. ‘Why weren’t you more careful?
Who’s the witness?’?‘A kid. Moe went out to the Motel to take care of her, but the cops beat him to it. Toey Marsh saw her fingering me, so Moe slit him. Now we are right in the crap to our necks.’
Hardy wiped the cold sweat off his face. He struggled to fight down a rising panic. He said, ‘Now look, Jacko, you get out of here. From now on, you and Moe are on your own. You’re not dragging me into this. You get out!’
Jacko fanned himself with his dirty handkerchief.?‘They catch us… they catch you. Moe’s coming here. We’ll sit and wait for him.’
Hardy remembered the gun he had in his desk drawer. If he could kill this fat queer, he could tell the police it was in self-defence. He was sure Gina would back him up and the cops could never hang anything on him with Jacko… and Moe, of course, out of the way.
‘Well, if you feel that way about it,’ he said and wandered casually towards his desk. ‘We’ll wait for Moe.’ He began to open a drawer in his desk when Jacko said, ‘You want to die, baby? What’s it to me to kill a second time? Get away from that desk!’
Hardy looked at the .38 pointing at him, then shrugged and moved away from the desk and sat down.
Moe got off the bus at the Miami terminal. He was now worried. If he couldn’t find this kid and knock her off, Jacko and he would be for the gas box. But how to find her? Where had the cops taken her?
He moved quickly through the crowd milling around the terminal and approached the
taxi rank. The driver of the first cab was a Jamaican. He nodded to Moe as he opened the cab door. Moe told him to drop him at the beginning of Bay Shore Drive. As the cab moved away, Moe lit a cigarette and tried to relax. He had a ten minute drive ahead of him and he concentrated his thoughts on what his next move should be.
The driver switched on the radio to dance music. As he was approaching Bay Shore Drive, the music faded and the announcer said, ‘We interrupt this programme for a police message. The police are anxious to question Moe Lincoln, a Jamaican, who they believe can help them with their inquiries concerning the murder of Toey Marsh who was stabbed to death half an hour ago after answering a mysterious telephone call. Lincoln, twenty-three, is tall and thin with a scar from his right ear to his chin. When last seen, he was wearing white and blue sweat shirt and dark blue jeans. Anyone see this man should contact Police Headquarters. Lincoln is known to be dangerous. In no circumstances should anyone attempt to apprehend him. We now return to Pete Jackson and his Music, playing for you from the Florida Club.’
The driver snapped off his radio.?‘Cops!’ he sneered. ‘They live to make trouble.’
Moe slid his knife from its sheath. His heart was hammering. How had the police got on to him so fast? Had someone seen him? He stared intently at the back of the driver’s head. He had seen the man stiffen. He was sure he had ecognized him from the radio description. So what would he do now?
The driver said scornfully, ‘Toey Marsh … well out of the way! He got me into trouble last month. The guy who slit him did a public service.’
Moe relaxed a little.?‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I knew him too.’?‘You want to change your mind about where you want to go?’ the driver asked without looking around. ‘I could run you out of town … to Key West. You might fancy getting on a boat. Key West is good for boats.’
Moe put his knife away.?‘No … drop me off here, pal,’ he said. ‘This will do fine.’
The driver swung to the kerb and Moe paused to look up and dawn the long road before getting out. He shoved a ten dollar bill at the driver who still didn’t look at him, then he walked fast to the nearest alley and disappeared into the darkness.
The driver wiped sweat from his face, then engaging gear, he sent the cab shooting down the road. It took him three minutes to find a patrol officer. Pulling up, he reported where he had dropped Moe.
You sure it was Lincoln?’ the cop demanded.?‘I know Lincoln,’ the driver said, his eyes glittering. ‘He cut my father once. Man I thought he was going to cut me but I played it smart.’
The cop climbed into the cab.?‘Get me to a telephone.’
Five minutes later, two patrol cars pulled up near the alley down which Moe had disappeared. Police spilled out, guns in hand, but they were too late. Although they searched the district, they found no trace of Moe.
The gentle scratching on Lee Hardy’s front door alerted Jacko that Moe had arrived. He nodded to Hardy.
‘Let him in,’ he said, lifting the gun so it pointed at Hardy who got to his feet and went into the lobby. As soon as Hardy was out of sight, Jacko went over to the desk and took Hardy’s gun from the drawer. He shoved the gun into his hip pocket and then returned to the chair as Moe came into the room, followed by Hardy.
‘This caper’s turned sour,’ Moe said and crossing to the cocktail bar, he poured himself a stiff whisky and soda. ‘It’s on the radio. They even know I knocked off Toey.’
Hardy said huskily, ‘You two better get out of here. This is the first place they’ll think of to check.’
‘Shut up!’ Jacko snarled. He looked uneasily at Moe. ‘What do we do, baby?’?‘If we can get to Key West, we can get a boat,’ Moe said, ‘but we want money.’ ‘He’s got money,’ Jacko said, waving to Hardy. ‘How much have you got right here?’ ‘A hundred and fifty,’ Hardy said. ‘You can have that.’
Moe sneered at him.?‘We’ll need five grand. We don’t stand a prayer without that kind of money.’?‘I haven’t got it.’?‘You’ll find it if you don’t want to take the short walk.’
Hardy hesitated, then said, ‘I could get it from the bank tomorrow morning.’ Jacko and Moe looked at each other.?‘We could stay here for the night,’ Jacko said.
Moe nodded.?‘Yeah, but it’s risky.’?‘We’ve got to take the risk,’ Jacko said. To Hardy, he went on, ‘You get the dough tomorrow morning … We’ll take care of your girl friend until you get back. You try anything smart and Moe’ll slit her.’
Listening, her ear against a door panel, Gina flinched, then she silently turned the key in the lock.
*****
Val lay in bed. The moonlight came through the open window and made a square pattern of silver on the carpet.
For the past three hours she had been wrestling with this problem of her husband. What he had said to her during the afternoon had terrified her. She could not believe he had been responsible for this woman’s death. This was something she refused to believe. On the floor by her bed lay a mass of newspapers carrying the story of Sue Parnell’s murder. She had read everything printed about the murder. On the bedside table lay a writing pad on which she had written the names of the few people connected with the murder and mentioned by the Press.
There was this damning evidence of the blood-stained jacket and the cigarette lighter. There was this dreadful thing Chris had said: One should never pay blackmail. I’ll tell the police I did it, and that will be that. Then he had said: Last night, I dreamed I killed a woman.
Val couldn’t bear the darkness any longer and sitting up, her face pale, her hands cold and clammy, she turned on the bedside light.
She thought: He didn’t do it! I know he didn’t. He must have heard about the murder somehow while he was wandering around. Somehow he must have got it into his head that he killed this woman, but I know he didn’t! Chris could never do such a thing! Even with those injuries to his brain, he wouldn’t do such a thing! It isn’t in his nature to stab a woman the way that woman was stabbed!
Then she again thought of the blood-stained jacket But was it really blood? Was this awful old man getting money out of her by a clever trick? How did she know the stains were from this woman’s blood? What to do? She didn’t dare go to the police in case… She pulled herself together.
She thought: If you really believe Chris didn’t do it, then you should go to the police. If you really and truly believe he isn’t capable of doing such a terrible thing, then go to Terrell (is that his name?) tell him about this man Hare and let him deal with him.
Then a small, disturbing voice sounded in her mind: But suppose Chris did do it? Just suppose in a moment of mad violence he did kill this woman? Are you going to betray him to the police? Suppose, through you, they were able to prove he did it? Suppose they put him away for life in some awful asylum?
But he didn’t do it! Val said, half aloud, her fists clenched, her breath rapid. I know he didn’t! This is some trick! I have to find out how this trick was worked! I’m sure it is a trick, but how do I find out? What can I do? She beat her fists together in her agony. I must do something!
Throwing aside the bedclothes, she slid out of bed and began to move restlessly about the room.
It wasn’t for nothing that she was the daughter of Charles Travers. She had the same determination, the same fighting spirit as her father. As she moved around the room she became more calm. If she was to help Chris, she must handle this problem herself, she finally decided. Tomorrow, she would pay Hare the money. That would keep him quiet for two weeks. During that time she must somehow try to find out what Chris had been doing while he had lost his memory. If she could find this woman he had met… this woman who had made him think of elephants (why elephants?)… she might be able to prove he was nowhere near this Motel where Sue Parnell had died. If she could do that, then Chris would be safe, but how to find this woman?
She was still pacing the floor, thinking, working herself into a more and more determined frame of mind when the moon faded in the lightening
sky and the red rim of the sun began its slow ascent.
CHAPTER NINE
Max Jacobs watched Val walk into the Florida Banking Corporation. The rime was ten minutes past ten. He had been sitting in his car, waiting patiently since nine o’clock. He lit a cigarette and continued to watch and wait. At half past ten, Val came out of the bank. She was carrying a small brown paper parcel. As she looked up and down the street, Jacobs started the engine. A moment later a taxi drew up at Val’s signal and she got into it. As the cab drew away from the kerb, Jacobs eased his car out of the parking bay and went after it. After a five minute drive, the cab pulled up outside a shabby office block and Val got out.
Jacobs hurriedly parked as Val, paying off the driver, walked into the building. Jacobs risked getting run over as he dodged through the traffic and entered the dark lobby of the building. The elevator was in motion and he started up the stairs, watching the slow crawl of the elevator and seeing it stop on the third floor. He raced to the third floor and arrived, panting. The long corridor with its frosted glass doors was deserted. He leaned against the banister rail, sure that Val had entered one of these offices, and waited.
As Val walked into the outer office of Hare’s Investigating Agency, Lucille looked up from her typewriter.
‘I have an appointment with Mr. Hare,’ Val said quietly.
Lucille recognised her. She got to her feet.?‘I think he is ready to see you,’ she said. ‘Just a moment,’ and she went into Homer Hare’s office, shutting the door.
Hare was nibbling at a bar of chocolate. Sam Karsh stood by the window, smoking. Both men were slightly tense.
‘She’s here,’ Lucille said.
The two men looked at each other, then Karsh said, ‘Are you really going to take her money? Once you take it, we’re way out on a limb.’
Hare put the chocolate bar reluctantly into his desk drawer.?‘Shoo her in,’ he said to Lucille, then to Karsh, ‘Run away, Sammy. I’m handling this.’ Karsh hesitated, then shrugging; he went out of the office by the door that led into the corridor.
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