‘How are you going to prove it, doc?’ I said.
Crisp stared at me, all his poise gone. Perspiration glistened in the roots of his hair, which was now back to green again.
‘Relax, doctor,’ I said after half a minute had dragged by. ‘I know you had nothing to do with the others. Manny Freeman told us what happened before he died. He was afraid you were trying something on when you hired me to trace Zarah, so he put Starr on the job. From then on in, things got out of hand. Manny thought he’d better eliminate Esterbrook first because he was getting anxious about Zarah’s absence. Does it all fit?’
There was a heavy silence, then Crisp said, ‘It fits. More or less. Can we make a deal?’
‘No deals,’ I said. ‘What we want now is the lady in the case. The lady who smokes Coronet cigarettes.’
‘She’s right here,’ said a husky voice behind me. ‘Please don’t move, Mr Faraday, because I’ve got a gun and I know how to use it.’
I sat where I was. Something hit the desk in front of me and fell with a thump on the carpet. I looked down. It was a woman’s black wig. Crisp laughed and came round the desk. He took my Smith-Wesson and went and sat down again. Twenty-five minutes.
‘You did pretty good, honey,’ Crisp said. A dark shadow moved at the end of the room and the girl came towards us. She had a gun in her hand and death in her eyes.
15 - Stay Healthy, Live Longer
Denise Silverman came into the light of the single lamp, step by step. She was very pale and her knuckles were clutched tightly over the trigger guard of the small nickel-plated Beretta she held.
‘Take it easy, Denise,’ Dr Crisp said soothingly. ‘We’ve got to think this out.’
I sat very still with my hands spread quietly on my knees and waited for a break.
‘Give me the gun, Denise,’ Crisp said gently. The girl hesitated a moment, then crossed over behind me and put the Beretta down on the desk in front of Crisp. She went back where she could keep an eye on me. I began to breathe again.
‘Thanks,’ I said to Crisp. He laughed shortly.
‘It won’t make any difference in the end, Mr Faraday. But I call the shots here. And two guns on one target can lead to accidents.’
I looked at Dr Crisp with greater respect; he had some common sense in among his muddled logic.
Denise Silverman shot me a tight smile. ‘You were surprised, Mr Faraday?’
‘Not entirely,’ I said. ‘Your cigarettes are too distinctive if you want to remain incognito. For instance, I found the stub of a Coronet cigarette in an ashtray at Esterbrook’s place and again at the Caribou Lake cabin.’
Denise Silverman smiled once more. I could have watched it all night but I hadn’t got the time.
‘I’d already been over Esterbrook’s place,’ she said. ‘I was looking for Zarah’s letters. I didn’t leave anything for Starr.’
‘Or for me,’ I said.
The Silverman woman fumbled in her handbag. She looked at herself in a gilt mirror and started to make up her mouth.
‘What else did I overlook?’ she said.
‘I found a Coronet cigarette stub at the studio reception today before Freeman got it,’ I said. ‘They’re rather a rare brand. I didn’t know who’d been smoking it but I checked the seats in the projection room later. There was another Coronet stub in the ashtray in front of your seat.’
Dr Crisp rolled his tongue around his cheek like he had toothache.
‘I told you Denise had nothing to do with this …’ he began.
‘She’s in it up to her beautiful neck,’ I said. ‘No deals.’
‘You’re hardly in a position to make or not make deals,’ said Crisp mildly. I had a quick glimpse at my watch again. Thirty minutes.
‘You forget that Miss Silverman rang DeSoto and distracted his attention while Starr changed the bullets over,’ I said. ‘That links her directly with the Esterbrook kill.’
‘How can it?’ said the blonde girl quickly. She bit her lip and her face looked paler than before. ‘Manny Freeman asked me to make the call. It was only a routine thing.’
‘The police don’t know that,’ I said.
Crisp had a baffled look on his face.
‘What would you suggest, Faraday?’ he asked.
‘Put down the gun,’ I said. ‘We’ll go downtown and tell the police your story. That way you won’t draw such a heavy sentence.’
Crisp shook his head. ‘I’m too old for that, Faraday,’ he said. ‘The way we got it planned, I got a safe escape route and Denise.’
He smiled at the girl wistfully. Her own smile was brilliant in return. It was easy to see why Zarah Fayne had ended up at the bottom of Caribou Lake. I thought about that for a minute or two. It put back some of the anger on top of my tiredness and feeling of age. I hoped McGiver would come soon before anything bad happened. I could smell something in the air. There were too many deaths already.
‘We got it all planned,’ Dr Crisp said again. ‘Sorry, Faraday.’
I knew it wasn’t any use waiting for McGiver. It was time to move now.
I went out of the chair in a long flailing dive. My fingertips hit the Beretta, spun it off the desk. Crisp had my Smith-Wesson up. It made a deafening explosion in the confines of the office. Then I hit the desk lamp and swept the room into darkness in one splintering crash. I landed heavily as the gun blammed again. Denise Silverman went down with a bump somewhere in the darkness. The neons made a green nightmare of the office. I crept across the carpet quietly and carefully, my extended fingertips searching for the Beretta. I couldn’t find it.
I looked up towards the window. The neons changed to gold. There was only the heavy silhouette of the big desk, two steel and leather chairs. I couldn’t see what the Silverman woman was doing and I didn’t care. Crisp had the only weapon that counted and I knew roughly where the Beretta was. Something creaked in the silence and the Smith-Wesson flamed again, low down, at the side of the desk. The bullet tore into a bookcase, sending broken glass and volumes raining over the floor. The Smith-Wesson held five, so that left only two.
The vacuum-cleaning in the adjoining offices had stopped and I could hear the running feet of the cleaning women; McGiver wouldn’t be long now. I rolled to my left, under a chair. The neon changed to blue while I was doing this. Crisp fired for the fourth time but the bullet went somewhere into the wall, sending plaster flying in a choking spray. My outstretched fingers found the Beretta by this time. It was a gun I didn’t like, more fit for a lady I always felt and never a man-stopper, but it would have to do for now.
I checked the gun and while I was doing this Crisp came over the desk on top of me in a long tearing rush that took me by surprise; it knocked all the breath out of me and then we were rolling over among the debris of the chairs and scattered books. My head hit something solid and I relaxed my grip for a moment and Crisp slipped away; he struck at me with the barrel of the Smith-Wesson but missed and hit the carpet instead. Then I brought my knee up and heard him grunt as it connected. I had the Beretta but he had his right arm around my wrist and was chopping it against the edge of the desk. I felt something warm and sticky running down my sleeve and remembered the glass from the bookcase.
I dropped the Beretta and while I went down for it Crisp got up. I came at him again along the carpet but misjudged my distance and Crisp kicked me in the side of the face as I moved close to him. The neons expanded to a pattern of throbbing agony in which red, mauve, green and gold were intermingled. I felt sick and went down on my knees in front of the desk. I retched one or twice and when the water cleared from my blurred eyes I saw a crack of light elongate under the rear door and then return to a thin slit as Crisp closed it behind him.
I guessed Denise Silverman had blown by this time and I went through the door in a sort of sobbing desperation; I blinked in the light and almost went down again. Then my head cleared and I found myself in the corridor, the Beretta still in my hand. I heard the whine of the lift when I was
more than twenty feet away; it was way up by the time I got to it. I watched the needle. It was climbing steadily to the top floor. There was no one in the corridors but I could see a door open a crack. I grabbed whoever was behind it. It was a frightened scrub-lady who looked like she was suffering from paralysis agitans.
‘Is there a staircase here?’ I asked her. She stared at me dumbly.
‘Where?’ I said. I almost had to shake it out of her. She pointed down the corridor. The door had the key in it. I opened it up, found a light switch; the dusty iron treads spiralled up in front of me. My head was beginning to clear by the time I had gone two flights. My footsteps went clanging way up ahead of me. I hoped Crisp wouldn’t be waiting at the top. I rested for a minute at the third or fourth floor and then went on. I was pretty blown by the time I got right up but I wasn’t feeling dizzy any more. I felt crusted blood on the side of my face.
I came to a door at last which said Roof Garden. It had a bar on the inside. I slid it up as quietly as I could. There was a light switch just inside the door and I blipped that off. I let the smell of the outside air and the distant rush of traffic come in to me as I eased the door back, inch by inch. By the time it was way open my eyes were acclimatized to the darkness. It was high up; way over on the other side were the neon signs which faced Crisp’s office. For the rest it was all dimly lit chimney stacks and roof vents. I didn’t relish hide and seek in and out of these.
I got out the doorway and crouched down behind a low brick wall while I got my bearings. Then I heard the thin, high whine of a police siren coming up the avenue. I shifted position, got over a half dozen yards, crouched again and then saw the running form of Crisp pass along the edge of the parapet, etched against the night signs. I fired high and wide. The Beretta gave a sharp bark and kicked in my hand and the light bullet went spanging off brickwork somewhere.
I ran before the echo had died away. Crisp stopped while I was doing this and let off another shot with the Smith-Wesson. This blasted high too and I heard a skylight shower to fragments somewhere behind me. I was up quite close to Crisp by then.
‘That’s the lot, doc,’ I called. ‘She only holds five. You’d better come on in.’
I walked up closer. The doctor’s white hair was a mingled green and gold as two signs behind and below him changed colour. I heard the hammer of his revolver click uselessly. Crisp gave a bitter laugh and looked at me for a long moment. Then he made up his mind. He put the Smith-Wesson down very carefully on the parapet at his feet.
‘What the hell,’ he said mildly, like he was sick of it all. Then he went over, stepping into space deliberately, almost delicately, like he’d chosen carefully his route to eternity. He seemed to take a long time in falling. He bounced once or twice against projections on the way down. A woman’s high scream came up from the distant boulevard, seemed to get louder if anything. Crisp’s body made a dark star which exploded on the sidewalk. I watched the ant-figures converge on the centre, like they were pulled by an irresistible force. I sat down on the edge of the parapet, picked up my gun in my handkerchief and put it in my pocket. The night wind blew softly against my face. I felt old and tired and sick and useless. And still no McGiver. I got up at last and it was only then that I read what the biggest neon said: STAY HEALTHY, LIVE LONGER WITH SURINAM.
16 - End Title
I went down one flight and stopped swearing at McGiver and the police. Crisp had jammed the lift cables with chairs, tools, anything he could lay his hands on. As it was the only one working that night McGiver and his boys would have to walk up from the ground floor. And I hadn’t had time to phone as I’d planned. I got to a phone in one of the offices and dialled the ground floor number. A strange voice answered.
‘Sergeant McQuorcodale here.’
I told him who I was and explained what had happened.
‘We guessed someone jammed the lift,’ he said. ‘The Lieutenant and the boys are hoofing it up. Be with you any time now.’
I thanked him and walked down to Dr Crisp’s floor. I went back into the office and put the main lights on. It was then that I saw Denise Silverman. She was sprawled back where the impact from the Smith-Wesson bullet had thrown her from her chair against the bookcase. I got to her in a hurry but I could see it wasn’t going to be much good. She’d been hit in the side and she was in a bad way. The Smith-Wesson throws a heavy bullet and it plays for keeps if it hits right. I wiped the foam from her lips and tried to staunch the wound with my handkerchief. She opened her eyes while I was doing that.
‘Take it easy,’ I said.
She shook her head. ‘No use, Mr Faraday. I shan’t get over this. This is the big one.’
I didn’t argue with her; somehow, they can always tell. She smiled a tiny smile and she still looked a beautiful woman.
‘Nathan never was any good with a gun,’ she said. ‘I told him he should have left things to me. You won’t tell him, will you?’
I shook my head. ‘Not a chance.’
She closed her eyes for a moment as pain forked through her. Then she struggled up. I helped her into a more comfortable position, got a cushion under her body.
‘He got away didn’t he?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Clean away,’ I lied.
She nodded with satisfaction. ‘That’s good. I should have liked to have gone. We had it all planned for a year. It must be beautiful in Mexico.’
She went so quickly I didn’t even notice. I closed her eyes and stood up. I looked out unseeingly at the night and the neons and the lights of the traffic until McGiver came up quietly behind me and put his hand on my shoulder.
*
I sat in the office and drew doodles on my blotter until Stella threatened to quit if I didn’t attend to business. I signed a couple of letters but it was no good. I felt restless. I drank two cups of Stella’s good coffee, the coffee no one makes like Stella but even that didn’t do it. Hoad hadn’t released Zarah Fayne’s death at Caribou Lake so it hadn’t been in the papers. There was one last thing I had to do, which was making me restless.
So I got in the Buick and drove across town. I found a couple of shops and bought a box of candy and some flowers. Then I drove out to Santa Monica; it was a fine afternoon for a drive, with a hint of sun breaking through the grey clouds and gilding the wave-tops. I saw two old ladies exercising dogs but I didn’t see my friend with his two big black dogs. I found the intersection and climbed the hill and everything was just as it was before. Zarah Fayne’s house looked as it always had, like everything was ready for her to come back home. Except that she wouldn’t be coming home ever. I rang the bell and no one came and I walked around back and found an open French window and got inside.
I was there nearly two hours and I drank a lot more whisky than was good for me but when I got on the front porch again and found it dusk I felt a whole lot better than when I came in. Jasmine shook hands gravely, her eyes steady and clear in the light of the porch lamp.
‘Thank you for coming, Mr Faraday,’ she said. ‘I appreciate it a whole lot.’
I went down the steps and got in my car and drove away down the hill watching the last light on the sea and thinking about the way things are sometimes. I remembered McGiver saying, ‘There are some things you can’t do anything about.’ I blasted a driver who drifted too close and then I relaxed again, my hands steady on the wheel. I found a lay-by and a cafe and a pay-phone and rang Stella.
‘You want to take me to the movies tonight, Mike?’ she said. ‘That is, if you’re not doing anything.’
I felt there was nothing I’d like more. ‘Sure, honey,’ I said. ‘I’ll be right in.’ I got back in the car and tooled out on to the highway again. When I got sick of the job or felt like turning it in or things got rough like now, there was always Stella. The lights of L.A. started coming up in the distance. I lit a cigarette and switched on the radio. There was always Stella.
I sat and smoked and listened to the radio, my hand changing gear automatically when
necessary, and watched the lights and smog of L.A. coming up the windscreen and didn’t notice the night or the smog but just the lights of the city and let the traffic take me in.
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Scratch on the Dark (A Mike Faraday Mystery Book 4) Page 13