Too Darn Hot

by Sandra Scoppettone

  “For now,” I said. “Who knows what paces they’re puttin her through.”

  “Okay.”

  He started to get up from his chair, and I put a hand on the arm of his suit.

  “What?”

  “She doesn’t have any loot, Joel.”

  “She payin you?”

  “A little.”

  “That’s good enough for me.”

  “My point bein is that I don’t know if she can afford another expense.”

  He smiled. “You called me, you knew I wouldn’t care.”

  “It’s just for now.”

  “Gotcha.”

  I watched him go up to Officer Charming at the desk. There was a back-and-forth, but I couldn’t hear what they said. Then the sergeant picked up his phone. In a minute he was waving Joel up the stairs where I knew the detectives had their offices.

  I hoped Joel’d get Claire outta there right away, but knew it could take a while. Meantime, I had plenty to keep me entertained. Drunks were hauled in, and penny-ante types, and . . . William Ladd. He was walking toward the desk when he saw me and did an about-face.

  “What are you doing here?” he said.

  “Claire is bein quizzed by the cops.”

  “Good. We have to pull together on this.”

  “Who does?”

  “Everyone but you.”

  I felt like I’d been slapped across the face. “I don’t think that’s up to you to decide.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “Claire’s got a lawyer now.”

  “What does she need a lawyer for?”

  “To protect her.”

  “From who?”

  “You for one.” I could get my licks in like any other bully.

  “Do I have to remind you, Miss Quick, it’s not your son’s life on the line.”

  “Mr. Ladd. I’m tryin to save Charlie’s life.”

  He ignored that. “Where did Miss Turner get a lawyer?”

  “I got her one.”

  “What’s his name?”

  I wondered why he cared cause I was pretty sure he wouldn’t know any New York lawyers.

  “Joel Sheridan.”

  “What kind of name is that?”

  “What is it with you and names?”

  “Never mind. A girl like you would never understand.”

  “What’s a girl like me?”

  “You live in Greenwich Village, don’t you?”

  “So?”

  “I know you people associate with any type.”

  “You people? Any type?”

  “Communists, Jews, radicals, and God knows who else.”

  I was ready to mix it up with this nasty little man, but then I saw them. “Here they come,” I said.

  Joel’s hand was under Claire’s elbow as he guided her toward us.

  “Oh, Faye. Thank you so much for Mr. Sheridan.”

  I smiled. “They ask ya a lotta stuff ya felt ya hadda answer?”

  “I’m afraid so. Until Mr. Sheridan came in. Then I didn’t answer anything.”

  Ladd said, “Why shouldn’t she answer questions?”

  “Who’s this?” Joel asked.

  “Mr. Ladd. The father of the soldier who was kidnapped.”

  “Oh.” Joel stuck out his hand.

  Ladd looked at it with suspicion; then he took it for a second but let go fast.

  “I don’t think ya know Claire, either, do ya?” I said.

  “I haven’t had the pleasure. How do you do, my dear?” He gave a little bow from the shoulders. What a phony.

  “Hello,” she said. “We spoke on the phone.”

  I could smell his disapproval of her. I hoped she couldn’t.

  “And I want to thank you for informing me of the latest development in my son’s kidnapping.”

  So that’s how it happened. Claire. Why hadn’t she listened to me? How could I ask?

  “You’re certainly a girl I can trust.”

  “I’m not sure everybody thinks I did the right thing.”

  “You mean this shyster and this poor excuse for a detective?”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Ladd,” Joel said. “I don’t think you understand the jeopardy your son is in now. Bringing in the police wasn’t too smart in a situation like this.”

  Ladd looked at him like he was a pesky persistent bug. “I have no interest in anything you have to say. I’m going to see Detective Powell now and we’re going to work out the details of how to get my son back.”

  “I can guarantee you, you won’t get him back if you bring the police into this,” Joel said.

  “Mr. Sheridan, I don’t know what it’ll take to get you to mind your own business. In case you don’t know, I’m a lawyer myself. I know how to handle these issues.”

  “I knew ya were a lawyer,” Claire said. “Charlie told me.”

  Why hadn’t she forked over this little tidbit to me? “He was very proud of ya,” she said.

  He smiled, as if to say: Of course he was. “I hope Charles will join my firm someday.”

  “Oh, no,” Claire said.

  We all looked at her.

  “He wants to be a writer.”

  “A what?” Ladd said.

  “A writer. Ya know, like Hemingway or that dead one, the Fitzgerald guy.”

  “F. Scott,” Ladd said.

  “Yeah, that’s the one.” Claire wasn’t helping herself with William Ladd.

  “A writer. I’ve never heard such nonsense. Charles never expressed to me any desire to be a writer. Had he, I would’ve put paid to that.”

  “What Charlie is gonna be isn’t too important now cause if we don’t work somethin out he’s not gonna be anything,” I said.

  “That’s a brutal thing to say, Miss Quick.”

  “Sorry. I’m only tryin to point out the truth.”

  “I’m going to see Detective Powell now and get this whole mess straightened out and expedited.”

  “You mean to get the hundred thousand to the kidnappers?” Claire asked.

  “Exactly.”

  “Don’t ya think I should take the cash to the place they chose?”

  “I’ll be doing that,” Ladd said.

  “The kidnappers want me to do it.”

  “How do I know you won’t run off with the money?”

  We were all quiet for a moment. Stunned, I think.

  “Look, Miss Turner, you’re being kind to offer, but I think this whole matter is better left to the men.” He gave me a knifelike glance.

  “She isn’t bein kind,” I said. “She loves your son.”

  “That’s very charming.”

  “What’s charmin about it?” Claire asked.

  “For you to have loving feelings toward Charles when he’s engaged to another woman.”

  EIGHTEEN

  I don’t know whose jaw dropped lower, mine or Claire’s.

  “How come ya didn’t mention this when I came to your hotel, Mr. Ladd?” I asked.

  “Frankly, I didn’t think it was any of your business.”

  “But Charlie and me were gonna be engaged.”

  Ladd showed some teeth when he snickered. “I’m sure you misunderstood, Miss Turner. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .”

  “Who’s he engaged to?” I asked.

  “You mean her name?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t want you bothering her.”

  “I’d just like to know who Charlie’s engaged to.”

  “Why do you want her name?”

  “Call me nosy.”

  “I’d be glad to.”

  “Mr. Ladd,” Joel said. “Do you have something to hide?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Then tell us the fiancée’s name.”

  “Barbara Swanson of the Rhode Island Swansons. May I go now?”

  No one objected, and he walked toward the desk. Charlie Ladd was some kind of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I started wondering if it might be better for me, and especially Claire,
to get outta this.

  “I can’t believe it,” Claire said.

  I could. I knew what Charlie was capable of. “He never said word one to ya, right?”

  “Nothin.”

  It was hard not to tell her about Lucille. But she didn’t need any more bad news right then.

  “I have to go,” Joel said.

  “I’m sorry, Joel. I didn’t mean to keep ya.”

  “It was worth it to see Mr. High and Mighty in action.”

  “Mr. Sheridan, I don’t know how to thank ya.”

  “Don’t give it a thought, Miss Turner.”

  “Thanks for comin down here, Joel.”

  “Glad to help out.” He kissed me on the cheek, put his forefinger and thumb to the brim of his hat to Claire, and left.

  Claire said, “I don’t wanna cry here, Faye.”

  “Let’s get some coffee.”

  We left the precinct and walked to Lexington Avenue, where we found a coffee shop. We took a booth in the back.

  Claire pulled a white lace hankie from her pocketbook and dabbed at her eyes. “I just can’t imagine Charlie bein engaged to some Barbara Swanson or anyone else. I can’t.”

  I didn’t know what to say cause I could imagine it.

  “The main thing now, Claire, is ya gotta be the one to make the drop. I hafta convince Ladd of that. And I don’t know how to keep the cops and the FBI outta this.”

  “I meant to tell ya about those G-men who came to my house. There were three of those monkeys and they scared me silly.”

  “They can do that. You gotta make that drop, Claire. Cops or FBI on the scene or not. The kidnappers hafta think you’re on the level.”

  “I can’t make the drop if Mr. Ladd won’t gimme the money.”

  “Good point.”

  “I don’t know what we can do.”

  “Yeah. Ladd’s determined to do it his way.”

  “So what’ll happen?” She blew out smoke that was like a soft puffy cloud.

  “I don’t know for sure. What they’ll try to do is have Ladd make the drop while they’re watchin so when someone picks it up they can nab him.”

  “But that might not work, huh?”

  The waitress came for our order. Claire wasn’t hungry, but I was. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I ordered an English muffin with my java. Then I said make it two.

  When the waitress left, Claire said, “I told ya I wasn’t hungry.”

  “I know. They’re both for me. Where were we?”

  “I asked ya whether the police plan might work or not.”

  “If the kidnappers have any suspicion or see anybody, they won’t pick up the spinach in the barrel.”

  “And what’ll happen to Charlie?”

  “I can’t be sure.” This was tough.

  “Whaddaya think will happen?”

  “The worst is they’ll kill him.”

  She didn’t blink an eye. “And the best?”

  “They’ll try again.”

  The waitress brought our order. She put one of the English muffins in front of me and one in front of Claire.

  “It’s for me,” I said.

  “I gave ya yours.”

  “They’re both for me.”

  She looked at me like I was a pig in garbage.

  “I’m hungry,” I said. I coulda kicked myself for thinking I needed to explain.

  She picked up the plate in front of Claire and put it in front of me. “Happy eatin,” she said.

  There wasn’t any butter but there were a couple a jams that looked okay. What I wouldn’t give to see real butter again.

  Claire picked up her cup in two hands like she was warming herself. She brought it to her lips, then set it back in the saucer without having any.

  I wasn’t gonna push her. She was a grown-up girl and if she didn’t want to eat or drink, that was her choice.

  Me? I slathered on some strawberry jam. I knew it wouldn’t be very sweet cause nobody made jam with sugar these days. I took a bite and it tasted like ambrosia to me, I was that hungry.

  “I’ll find out about this Barbara Swanson if ya want me to.”

  “Find out what?”

  “If Charlie’s really engaged to her?”

  She shrugged.

  “Yeah. I guess it doesn’t make any difference right now. And when he comes back, you can ask him yourself.”

  “Don’t ya mean if he comes back?”

  “Claire. I don’t want ya thinkin like that.”

  “I’m tryin to be realistic, Faye.”

  It was so hard not to spill the beans about that bum. I didn’t want him to be killed but I didn’t want Claire to marry him, either. “You’re right. I guess it’s good to be realistic.”

  “From what I’ve read in the newspapers and heard on the radio, kidnappin victims usually don’t come home alive. Isn’t that true?”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  “Even if they get the money?”

  “Even then.”

  I kept going back and forth on this damn thing. Maybe it would be easier on Claire if I told her the truth about Charlie. On the other hand it might devastate her to hear about her sister and Charlie. And to hear how it happened? No, I couldn’t tell her yet. If Charlie didn’t come back, she would never need to know. If he did, I’d have to warn her about who this guy was.

  When we . . . I . . . finished my English muffins and java, Claire said she wanted to go home. Outside, I put her in a cab.

  I had a friend whose mother always said, There’s nothing as hot as hot cheese. She was wrong. Soaking wet and panting like a dog, I made it back to my office. I put my key in the lock and right away I knew the door was not zipped up. Had I forgotten to lock it when I was there earlier? I was pretty sure that wasn’t the case. It was times like this I wished I carried a gat. But I didn’t. I heard Woody’s voice. Yer on a case, Quick, and it’s got violence in it, ya carry a piece at all times. So much for listening to my boss.

  I couldn’t decide whether to go in or leave. I wasn’t calling for the cops. I had my pride. Then I heard the toilet flush. I tried to tell myself this was just a person who needed the WC. Myself wouldn’t buy. Okay. I hadda take a chance. Slowly, I turned the knob and carefully opened the door inch by inch. When I got it open enough to let myself in, the bathroom door opened and we both screamed.

  It was Birdie.

  We spoke at the same time and said the same thing. “What are you doin here?” Then we laughed.

  “You go first,” I said. Being boss sometimes had advantages.

  “I had a fight with Pete and I didn’t feel like talkin about it with any of my girlfriends, so I thought I’d come here and sit and think for a while.”

  It was hard to picture Birdie sitting and thinking cause some part of her was always moving. “What was this fight about? Or don’tcha wanna talk to me, either?”

  “Ah, Faye. It’s the same old stuff. Ya don’t wanna hear it.”

  “Another woman?”

  “Nah. He’s pushin me to get married. I guess maybe there’s somethin wrong with me, huh? I mean what girl doesn’t wanna get married?”

  We sat down in the waiting room that doubled for Birdie’s office. Then we reached for our smokes.

  “I bet there’s lotsa girls don’t wanna get hitched,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t know any. You wanna get married, don’tcha, Faye?”

  Did I? “Eventually.”

  “What about Johnny? Don’tcha wanna marry him now?”

  “No. I don’t know him well enough.”

  “So if he asked ya, you’d say no?”

  “He’s not gonna ask me.”

  “Yer duckin the question.”

  I thought of telling her about our new arrangement, but I decided to keep it to myself for now.

  “Faye?”

  “I know twenty-six isn’t too young to get married. But I feel like I’m a kid.”

  “There ya go.”

  “You feel that, too?” Bir
die was thirty. She wouldn’t tell her age, but I had my ways of finding out.

  “Nah.”

  “So why don’t ya wanna, Bird?”

  “I don’t see the point. What’s in it for me? I don’t wanna have kids, I know that’s another strange thing about me, and I don’t feature bein a housewife. I mean, me home all day waxin the floors, or whatever those married dames do? So what I’d end up doin is takin care of Pete. This way I get to have him in my life and I don’t hafta wash his dirty socks and cook every meal for him. See what I mean?”

  I nodded.

  “Course there’s one catch like always. He might fly the coop and marry someone else.”

  “You really believe that?”

  She blew smoke through both nostrils like somebody on the silver screen. “Yeah. Pete wants someone to take care of him even though he doesn’t say so.”

  “And ya think he’d be willin to give ya up?”

  “Lemme put it this way: if I was a man, I would, ya get my drift?”

  I did. “I’m sorry, Bird. But it’s not happenin today, so maybe ya should make it up with Pete.” It went against the grain to push Pete, cause he wasn’t a favorite, but I wanted Birdie to be happy.

  “Yer probably right, Faye.” She stubbed out her cig. “But I think I’ll let him stew in his own juices for a while. So whaddaya doin here?”

  I brought her up to date on the case.

  “No kiddin? This is a doozy. Sounds like Charlie maybe wants two gals to take care of him.”

  “I’d laugh but then I think about him rapin Lucille.”

  “Yeah. I forgot about that for a sec.”

  “As long as yer here, Bird, would ya mind tryin to get a phone number for Barbara Swanson in Rhode Island?”

  “My pleasure, I’m sure.”

  “I’m gonna go. Ya can reach me at home later, okay?”

  “Okay. One thing, Faye. How d’ya know Lucille is tellin the truth? I mean she probably had a baby, but who says it was Charlie’s?”

  “There was somethin about her that rang true.”

  “Wasn’t it you who told me when ya hired me, What they tell ya isn’t always the truth?”

  “You’re right. I better investigate Lucille a little closer. But the first thing is to get Charlie Ladd back safely. I hafta convince his father that even though the police are involved and it’s too late to change that, Claire should be makin the drop.”

  “How’re ya gonna get him over to yer side?”

  “If I was a guy I’d take him out to dinner and get him plastered then get him to agree.”