“Yes. Where’s your family from?”
“Newark, New Jersey.”
They both laughed but it didn’t sound real, more like they were doing the scales.
“No, no,” he said. “Originally. Were they born in this country?”
“Sure.”
“How about their parents?”
“Oh, I get yer meanin now. Both sets of grandparents came from England.”
“How nice,” she said.
William nodded in agreement.
I had no idea what that was all about. Did they expect me to ask them the same question? I didn’t.
“When’s the last time ya spoke to yer son?”
“He called when he got to the hotel. I suppose that was Friday.”
“And how’d he sound?”
“Perfectly fine. He was looking forward to his time in New York and seeing this girl, Claire,” he said.
“Did he tell ya he was goin out with the boys that night instead of seein Claire?”
“No.” They looked at each other, then back at me.
She lit a cigarette.
“That’s odd,” William said. “Charles said he was in love with this Claire, and was all excited about seeing her. Who were these boys he was going out with?”
I named them.
“We know George, but not the other chap.”
“David Cooper was the murdered soldier found in Charlie’s room.”
“Why didn’t the police mention that?”
“When did ya talk to em?”
“Around one.”
“He hadn’t been identified then. George Cummings ID’ed him about an hour ago.”
“You’re not suggesting that Charles had anything to do with the boy’s murder, are you?” William said.
“Nobody knows.”
Mrs. Ladd sat up straighter at the end of the couch. “Well, I’m here to tell you that my son couldn’t have killed anyone. He’s the most gentle and sweet boy you’d ever want to meet.” She started to cry.
“Now, Jennifer, don’t get yourself all worked up.”
Whenever a girl had a tear in her eye, men thought she was gonna get hysterical. Or worked up, as he put it. Why shouldn’t she cry? Her son was missing, and maybe he killed someone. Sounded to me like something to cry about.
There was a knock on the door. “Room service.”
“Enter.”
The waiter carried a round tray. There were three drinks and hors d’oeuvres that looked good. Ladd stood, directed the waiter where to place each drink, then tipped him.
The waiter left on little cat feet, like the poet wrote.
“You’ve got to find our son,” William said.
“I will. Or the police will.”
“I’m not sure the police are too worried about Charles,” he said.
I took a sip of my drink. “If it was just a missin person case, I might share that outlook. But Cooper makes it murder. The cops’ll take that seriously.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“What about Claire? Do you like her?”
Again they looked at each other.
I waited.
“We haven’t met her but at least she’s not Jewish,” Mrs. L. said.
“Yes. I suppose we should be grateful for that.” He took out a gold holder, stuffed a cigarette into it, and flicked a fancy gold lighter.
“What would be the problem if she was Jewish?”
“Well, you know how they are.” Jennifer Ladd wrinkled her nose, and it wasn’t cute.
“No. I don’t know how they are.”
William said, “Let’s not get sidetracked. What else do you want to know?”
“Do ya have any idea why Charlie would disappear?” I eyeballed the hors d’oeuvres.
“I think he was kidnapped,” she said.
“I don’t,” he said. “There’s been no ransom request.”
“So whaddaya think happened to him, Mr. Ladd?”
“I can’t imagine. Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with Cooper’s murder. You say he was a soldier, too?”
“A private like yer son.”
“It’s so awful, so very confusing and awful,” Mrs. L. said. She took a swig of her martini.
“Why would Cooper be murdered in Charlie’s room?” he asked.
“That’s what everybody wants to know.”
“Well, we’re going to stay here until Charles is found,” he said.
“Can ya think of anything that might help me find him?”
“Such as what?” She blew a perfect smoke ring.
“Habits, interests, hobbies.”
Mrs. L. said, “He collects stamps.”
“Please, Jennifer. That’s not what Miss Quick means.”
“Well, it is sorta,” I said. “Did he have any other hobbies?”
“He collected stamps when he was a boy,” Mr. L. said. “He hasn’t done that for years. And no. I can’t think of any other hobbies Charles was interested in. But you might want to talk to George Cummings, the other gentleman you said was with him last Friday night. He might know things we don’t.”
“What kinds of things, William?” She seemed alarmed.
Nobody was eating the hors d’oeuvres. What a waste.
“Jennifer, a boy doesn’t tell his mother everything.”
She downed her drink then reached for a little cracker with a spread on it. Finally she offered the platter to me.
“Thanks, I believe I will.” I bagged a shrimp thing. “I’ve already met with Mr. Cummings.”
“What did he say?” she asked.
“He couldn’t help me cause he didn’t see Charlie often.”
“Poor George,” she said. “His eyes.”
“Yeah, too bad.” I wanted another shrimp, but didn’t dare reach for one. I drank instead.
I didn’t think the Ladds were gonna cough up anything else useful, so I told them I’d be in touch.
Waiting for the elevator, I thought about that business of asking what kind of name Quick was. And their not-so-subtle feelings about Jews.
I didn’t think either of them was keeping any serious jelly from me. They didn’t want to face the possibility of where Charlie might be and if they’d ever see him again. Who would?
TEN
I could hear Ma Bell calling to me as I tried to get the key in my door. The harder I tried the worse it got. I thought it might be Johnny. I told myself it was only a phone call and that he’d call back.
Finally I turned the lock, opened up, almost tripped over Zachary, who gave me a greeting howl, and shut the door so he wouldn’t get out. I ran to the phone and grabbed the receiver.
“Yeah? Hello?”
“What’s with ya, Faye? Ya sound like ya been runnin up Mount Everest.”
Birdie. “I had trouble gettin in, that’s all.”
“Yeah. You’ve been out.”
“No kiddin.”
“I’ve been tryin ya for hours, fresh mouth.”
“Sorry.” I sat down and Zachary jumped into my lap. I knew it wasn’t cause he’d missed me. It was about food. He’d have to wait, but I scratched him around the ears. “So what is it, Bird?”
“Claire Turner called about five o’clock soundin crazy.”
“Crazy?”
“More hysterical than crazy, I guess.”
“And?”
“She wanted ya to call her soon as ya could.”
“Didn’t say what it was about?”
“They don’t tell me secret stuff like that, Faye.”
“That’s a secret, tellin ya what she wanted?”
“Lemme put it to ya this way. I asked and she said she couldn’t yak about it with me. She needed you chop chop.”
“Don’t be hurt, Bird.”
“Who’s hurt? Ya think I wanna know about their dirty laundry?”
Yeah, I did. I let it go. “I have her number in my pocketbook, but gimme it anyway.”
She did.
“Any other
calls?”
“If there was, I woulda told ya.”
“Right. Sorry. Why don’t ya go home now.”
“I am home. I’m making pork chops.”
“Oh, yeah. For Pete.”
“For Pete, yeah.”
“Hope ya have fun, Bird. And I’ll see ya Monday.”
“Goodbye,” she said.
Was she mad at me? She was never formal like that. I hoped she wasn’t gonna quit. I couldn’t run the agency without Birdie Ritter. Sure, I could always get another secretary, but not like her. The sugar shortage made it hard to find a box of candy. I’d have to think of something else to take her on Monday.
I was planning to go to Claire’s anyway, to get the picture of Charlie Ladd. She knew that. What could be so important? I dialed. She picked up on half a ring.
“Oh, thank God it’s you.”
“What’s goin on?”
“I don’t want to talk about it over the phone.”
Why did they always say that? “Could ya please come here.”
“Sure. I was plannin to, remember?”
“I forgot. The picture.”
“Yeah.”
“This is nothin to be sneezed at, Faye.”
“Okay, I’ll be there soon as I can.”
Zachary looked at me with pitiful eyes. Claire would have to wait. I stood up and he jumped down. I got his food, dished it up, and put it on the floor. I heard him purring. He was one happy guy.
“I hate to do this to ya, Zach,” I said, “but I gotta go out again.”
He kept eating; I coulda been invisible. I grabbed my stuff and headed out. A neighbor, Jim Duryea, was in the hall. We’d had a strange encounter a few months ago, but since then we’d been friendly enough though he’d never be my favorite guy.
“Going out in this heat?”
“I have to, Jim.”
“I’ll bet you’re on the missing soldier case.”
That knocked me back on my heels. How’d he find out?
“Ya know I can’t talk about my cases.”
“It’s in all the papers. Do you think they’ll find him? The soldier?”
“I have no idea. I gotta go, Jim.”
Outside I walked to Sixth and Tenth and hailed a hack. Something I hardly ever did. But I’d put it down as expenses. I gave the driver the address and sat back to smoke a cig.
Jim’s guess made me think of Anne Fontaine, who was a real psychic. I missed her like mad. We’d been friends since high school, but a couple of months ago she’d moved to California. She said she saw the name of the state written on somebody’s forehead and knew she had to go. We kept in touch by letter, but it wasn’t the same.
At Sixty-first Street and Eighth Avenue the cabby let me out. I paid him the $1.25 and tipped him a nickel. Cabs were getting pricey.
At Claire’s building I walked up three flights. She was standing in the doorway.
“Hurry,” she said.
She looked around the hallway before she shut the door. The first thing she did was light a cigarette.
The apartment was pretty dark cause her view was another building about two feet away. Mismatched pieces that looked like she’d gotten them at a fire sale made up her furnishings. I gave the room the once-over, but saw nothing that looked like ya could sleep on. Then I noticed a floor-to-ceiling cabinet. A Murphy bed. I figured the one inside door was the bathroom.
“Sit down, Faye.”
I sat and took a cig from my pack of Camels, which was running low.
She paced. “He called.”
“Who?”
“The person who took Charlie.”
“Ya mean he was kidnapped?”
“Yeah.”
“What’d he say?”
“He said he had him and he wanted a hundred thousand dollars to give Charlie back.”
I let out with a whistle. “A hundred thou. That could buy a lotta tamales.”
“Where am I gonna get that kinda money?”
“What else did he say?”
“He said he’d be callin back with instructions. I tried to tell him I couldn’t get that much money but he wouldn’t pay attention to me.”
“You didn’t get to speak to Charlie, did ya?”
She flashed a smile of pride. “Yeah, I did. I knew enough to ask for that. He put Charlie on for a couple a secs, but I knew it was him.”
“Did ya call the police?”
“He said no cops.”
“Yeah. They always say that.”
Her eyes widened. “You know who they are?”
“I meant kidnappers in general.”
“Oh. So what should I do, Faye?”
“I think we have to tell the Ladds. They’re in town at the St. Moritz.”
“Have ya seen em?”
“I went to their hotel. Naturally I didn’t tell em you hired me. But they assumed that anyway.”
“They hate me.”
“They never met ya.”
“They hate me anyway.” She pooched out her lower lip. “Why d’ya think Charlie hasn’t introduced us?”
“Ya said . . . never mind. When they meet ya, they’ll like ya.”
She sat on the chair across from me, put out her cigarette, and pulled her feet up under her.
“Look, Claire, ya don’t have the money and the Ladds probably do. I mean if they’re stayin at the St. Moritz, they’re not broke.”
She nodded. “Charlie tried to play it down, but things he said made me know they’re rich.”
“It seems like callin them is yer only angle.”
“What if the kidnappers find out?”
“How d’ya know there’s more than one?”
“I heard a guy in the background talkin to somebody else.”
“Anyway, he told ya not to get the police into it, not the Ladds.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
“He didn’t say when they’d call back, did he?”
“No.” She lit up again.
“By the way, ya got that picture of Charlie?”
“I gave the good one to the cops yesterday when they came to see me. But I got another.”
She opened the drawer of a table, took something out, which musta been the picture, and turned back to me.
“He’s much better lookin than this, Faye.” Her eyes filled up.
“I gotta see it, Claire.”
“Yeah.” She laid her glims on the pic like she was gonna forget his face if she didn’t, then handed it to me.
Private Ladd was a handsome fella. He had big, sad eyes and a straight nose. I couldn’t see his hair cause it was under his hat, but she’d told me it was brown. The brim shaded part of his face.
I lit my last Camel and looked for a place to toss the empty pack. I didn’t see anything so I dropped it into my pocketbook. “Ya want me to call the Ladds?”
“Would you?”
“Sure.” The minute I said it I felt queasy. How d’ya tell parents their son’s been kidnapped? Better than telling them he’s dead, that was for sure. And he could end up dead if these snatchers didn’t get their long green. I walked over to the phone.
The Ladds were horrified but the moola was no problem for William. I told em to wait in their suite until Claire phoned after she heard again from the men holding Charlie.
This setup made Claire one unhappy twist.
“I don’t like the idea of me having to call them. ”
I wanted to tell her that this wasn’t about her relationship with the Ladds and to can it. But I didn’t think honesty would be the smart move to make with this client.
“Claire, this is the way it’s gotta be done. Unless ya want the Ladds to come here and wait with ya.”
“No.”
I figured she was probably ashamed of her apartment. “Well, ya can’t wait at the St. Moritz with them cause the kidnappers are callin ya here.”
“What if they don’t call for days?” Now she was getting whiny.
“Ya gotta sit tight
.”
“Will you stay with me?”
Oh, brother.
“I suppose you have some hot date?”
“I don’t.”
“Please stay.”
She looked so pitiful I said I’d stay for a while or until they called, whichever came first.
They never called. At least not while I was there and I’d been home for half an hour and hadn’t had a jingle from Claire. I tried to stay off the phone, but even though it was late it was one of those times when it seemed like everybody hadda ring me.
I talked to Johnny, but after I told him what was going on I kept it short. Him I woulda liked jawing with. Still, it was nice that I had a boyfriend who understood.
Jeanne Darnell called, too. We made a date for the next week to meet for dinner at Fuglio’s on Greenwich Avenue. She was another one who understood if I had to cancel, which I’d done on many a night. She said she had something special to tell me. I wondered if she was tying the knot with her longtime boyfriend.
I shrugged off a few more calls while I was getting out my bobby pins and the strips of cotton I used to do my hair. I was getting sick of this routine. I kept threatening to cut my mop but I never seemed to get around to it.
I turned on the radio to my favorite music station and caught the Mills Brothers right in the middle of “Paper Doll.” I liked them a lot and sang along till the end of the tune.
I’d decided if there was no news on Charlie by morning I was gonna head to New Jersey and meet Lucille Turner.
Swell. How was I gonna get there?
ELEVEN
The phone was my alarm clock. I pushed Zach off my head, rolled out of bed, and got to the horn in time. “Yeah?”
“What if it wasn’t me?” Marty said.
“Huh?”
“Answerin with a yeah.”
“Who are you, Emily Post?”
“How much ya wanna know about David Cooper?”
“A lot.”
“Then close that satchel mouth and listen.”
“Shoot.” This was no time to put on the gloves with Marty.
“The hotel geniuses found Cooper’s room soon as they were told the ID. Then Powell and company went over Cooper’s room and came up with his dog tags, wallet, the usual.”
“Nothin else?”
“That’s all I could find out. I was hopin there might be a connection to Ladd, beside them bein on leave together. Somethin to tell us if he knocked Cooper off and then took a powder.”
Too Darn Hot Page 9