Every few seconds as the cab whizzed past a street light I caught a fleeting glimpse of her face. She looked white and tired and her finely pencilled eyebrows were knitted in a frown.
“Forget it,” I said. “There wasn’t anyone there. You’re letting your imagination play you tricks.”
“I wonder why you took me out tonight,” she said unexpectedly.
“I told you. I was lonely, you were lonely, and Cranville’s pretty grim town. You’re not sorry, are you?”
“Sorry?” She shook her head. “I’ve had one of the nicest evenings of my life. Only I wish I hadn’t been so silly just now.” She sat up and swivelled round so that she was facing me. “What’s the matter with this town? When I got off the train I felt . . .” She stopped and then went on: “Oh, never mind, I guess the heat has made me nervy.”
“What did you feel?” I asked, taking her slim hand in mine.
“I felt scared. There’s something about this place that makes me nervous. It’s so hard and dirty and cold. There’s a queer kind of ‘ frightened atmosphere about the people. Have you noticed it, or am I just imagining it?”
“It’s dirty and hard and cold all right,” I said, being purposely casual. “But that needn’t scare you—”
‘You weren’t kidding about the girls who’ve disappeared?” she broke in. “I mean you really are going to try and find them?”
“Sure, but that’s nothing to do with the town. Girls disappear in any town. Why have you suddenly thought about them?”
“I don’t know. Oh, I guess I’m tired. I’ll be all right in the morning.”
While she was speaking the cab drew up outside the hotel. “That’s the idea,” I said, helping her out. “Now you get off to bed.”
I paid the driver and followed her up the steps and across the verandah.
Two dim figures sat in rocking chairs on the verandah. I saw them glance in my direction, but I thought nothing of it. I strolled across the lobby to the desk.
“Good evening,” the clerk said, looking at Marian and then at me. His sallow face showed his disapproval. “Two gentlemen are waiting to see you.”
“Waiting to see me?” I repeated.
He nodded. “They’re out on the verandah.”
“Thanks,” I said, and turned to Marian, who was watching me with a worried look in her eyes. “You go on up and get some sleep,” I said. “It’s been a swell evening.”
“Thanks a lot,” she said. “I enjoyed it too.” She hesitated, then turned to the stairs.
I called “Good night” after her and then turned back to the clerk. “Who are these fellows?” I asked, lighting a cigarette and giving him a hard look.
“One of them is Mr. McArthur,” he returned indifferently. “I didn’t see the other one.”
McArthur! That could only mean one thing. He had thought over what I had said, given his wife the slip and was ready to talk. “Okay,” I said, “I’ll see them,” and I walked out onto the verandah.
McArthur peered at me and got hastily to his feet. “Mr. Spewack?” he said cautiously. “Yes, I see it is. Mr. Spewack, I want to apologize “
“Forget it,” I said, hooking one of the rocking chairs towards me with my foot. “If you want my help you can have it.”
The other figure stood up and came into the light. He was young, slight and a few inches shorter than me. His suit was well cut but worn carelessly. His necktie had worked round until it was nearly natter-his right ear.
“This is Ted Esslinger,” McArthur said in a low voice. “I’ve talked things user with him and we’ve decided to see you.”
“You Max Esslinger’s son?” I said, looking at him with sudden interest.
“I am,” he said, offering his hand.
I stared at him. He had a fine head. His black wavy hair was taken straight back and his face was pale, sensitive and pleasant.
I shook hands rather blankly and looked at McArthur for a lead.
But it was Ted Esslinger who took charge. “Mr. Spewack,” he said, keeping his voice down, “you can appreciate I’m in an embarrassing position. Is there any place we can go where we can talk without interruption?”
I remembered the man in the room next to mine and shook my head. “Not in my room,” I said. “Suggest some place and I’ll come with you.”
Ted looked at McArthur and then shrugged. “I’ve got my car,” he said. “We can talk as I drive.”
“That suits me,” I said, and followed him down the steps of the hotel.
We crossed the street to where a Pontiac convertible stood in the shadows.
Ted opened the door and slid under the steering wheel.
I glanced back over my shoulder at the hotel. The blinds of all the windows were drawn, except one on the third floor. I could see the outline of a man standing looking down into the street. He was framed in the window, and as I looked up at him he jerked back out of sight. I noticed three things. He was looking from a window that was next to mine. He wore a slouch hat and he had very wide shoulders.
I climbed into the Pontiac and slammed the door.
As we drove away from the hotel I felt suddenly spooked. But I kept it to myself.
Outside the city’s limits Ted Esslinger slowed down and pulled over to the shoulder of the road. He parked tinder trees and, relaxing down in his seat, said: “We’re all right here.”
None of us had spoken during the drive out of town.
MacArthur, sitting in the rear seat, leaned forward and began to breathe heavily down the back of my neck. I could tell by his restless movements that he was worried and jumpy.
I lit a cigarette, flipped the match out of the open window and waited. There was a long pause and I shot a side-look at Esslinger. He was staring into the darkness of the trees. In the moonlight he looked young. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-three, and I could see he was also a little jumpy.
“You’re our only hope,” he said suddenly in a low voice. “That’s why we’ve come to you.”
I didn’t say anything.
He looked back over his shoulder at McArthur. “You’re not to tell anyone about this, Mac,” he went on. “Father would be furious if he knew that I…”
McArthur wheezed excitedly. “You go ahead,” he broke in. “I’m not saying anything.”
I let them frighten each other. I wasn’t going to make it easy for them. They had come to me and it was up to them to put their cards on the table.
Ted Esslinger turned his head so he could look at me. “I want you to know I’m not taking sides in this business,” he said, his hands fiddling with the steering wheel. “You may be working for Wolf against my father, but I can’t help that. I’m sure if anyone can find these girls you can, and that’s all I’m interested in.”
“What makes it so important to you?” I asked, looking at him inquiringly.
“Luce was a pal of mine. I went to school with Vera. Joy and I kept a regular date each week. I knew them well and I liked them. They were good kids.” He drew a deep breath, then blurted out: “At the rate we’re going now, they never will be found.”
I grunted. “So they were your pals?” I said, underlying ‘pals’.
His face tightened. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, half in anger, “but there was nothing like that. They were decent girls. Just ordinary kids who liked a good time. I and the rest of the-boys in Cranville kicked around with them, but nothing else.”
I looked back at McArthur. His skinny, yellow face showed his misery. “He’s right, mister,” he said. “There was nothing wrong with the girls.”
“Okay, okay,” I said, shrugging. “What makes you think they’ll never be found?”
Esslinger’s knuckles showed white as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. “It’s a political set-up.” There was bitterness in his voice. “No one cares a damn what’s happened to them. The police aren’t doing anything. As long as no one finds these k
ids, Macey’s sitting pretty. The election is in the bag, anyway. Starkey’s planning to strong-arm the voters. His gang will control the polls. It’s easy enough. All they have to do——”
“I know,” I broke in; “don’t let’s waste time. I’m tired. What do you want me to do?”
“But I want you to understand the set-up,” he protested. “You see, if these girls aren’t found, it won’t make any difference to Starkey, but it will to Wolf and my father. They’ve guaranteed to find the girls. It’s in Macey’s interests now for them not to be found.”
“Can you believe people could be so wicked?” McArthur said, punching the back of my seat.
“So the police aren’t working on the case?” I said, jerking my hat lower over my eyes. “How about the investigator your father’s hired?”
Ted made an impatient movement with his hands. “Audrey? I can’t think what father’s doing. He’s crazy to expect Audrey Sheridan to do anything. She’s a good kid. I’ve known her all my life, but against Macey and Starkey she’s helpless. Besides, she’s never had any experience of this kind of thing.”
I let smoke drift down my nostrils. “She’s a licensed operative, isn’t she?” I said. “Why did your father hire her if she’s that bad?”
Ted lifted his square shoulders helplessly. “I don’t know,” he said. “I wish I did. He must know she won’t get anywhere.”
“It’s no good, Ted,” McArthur said. “We’ve got to tell him the truth.” He leaned forward so I could see his troubled face. “Everyone likes Audrey,” he went on to mc. “Ted’s father thinks by hiring her he’ll ride along on her popularity. He figures if she doesn’t find the girls they won’t blame him so much.”
“That sickens me,” Ted burst out. “Even my father isn’t worrying about the girls. All he thinks about is the election. Can’t you understand how I feel? It’s driving me crazy. My father won’t listen to me. When Mac told me he’d seen you, I knew you were our only hope. I don’t give a damn who becomes mayor, but these kids must be found!”
“If they’re anywhere around, I’ll find them,” I promised. “But I want help. There’s too much opposition in this town to please me. What do you think’s happened to them?”
“I can make a guess,” he said. “Mac doesn’t agree with my ideas, but I’m pretty sure I’m right.”
“Look,” I said patiently, “I said I was tired, didn’t I? Well, spill it, if you’ve got anything to spill, and let me get to bed.”
“I think the whole business is a frame-up to discredit my father and Wolf. I’ll bet even money Starkey’s kidnapped the girls, knowing father and Wolf will lose votes by it.”
“Guessing won’t help. Have you any proof?”
“There’s something that might help. I told Audrey about it, but she got nowhere with it.”
I pulled down a lungful of smoke and waited.
“The day before Luce disappeared she told me a street photographer had taken her photo, She was going to collect the photograph on the day she disappeared. The shop where she was to collect the photograph is owned by Starkey. It’s one of his sidelines.”
I thought about this. At face value it didn’t seem much, but I was interested.
“You think that was where she was kidnapped?”
He nodded. “That’s how I worked it out.”
“You don’t know if the other girls were photographed in the same way? If they were, there might be something in it.” Then I remembered the three photographs Dixon had shown me and I sat up abruptly. The photographs had all been taken on the street, showing the girls’ heads and shoulders with buildings as a background. “They were all photographed like that!” I said, getting excited. “The Camille Gazette has photos of all three girls and they were all taken on the street.”
McArthur sucked his teeth. “I told you this guy could help. knew it as soon as I saw him.”
Ted stared at me. “Then Starkey must be at the bottom of it,” he said grimly.
“What are we going to do about it?”
“I’ll take care of it,” I said. “Is there anything else?”
They looked at each other and decided there wasn’t anything eke. That was all right with me. They hadn’t wasted my time. I had something useful to work on.
“We want to be in on this, Mr. Spewack,” Ted said anxiously. “You won’t leave us out?”
“I’m working for Wolf,” I reminded him, “but if you want these girls found, you give me all the information you have.” I glanced at my watch. It was just after eleven. “Do you know where the photographs are collected?”
“It’s a shop called the Street-Camera and it’s halfway down Murray Street.”
“Okay.” I lit another cigarette. “We’ll go back now. Where can I get you if I want you?”
He scribbled a telephone number on the back of an old envelope and gave it to rue. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?” he said. “My father will be mad.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll take care of that.”
He started the engine and then he said: “I hope your wife won’t be worried about you.”
“My wife?” I said, surprised. “I haven’t a wife.”
“I’m sorry.” He sounded embarrassed. “I thought the lady you were with . . .”
I laughed. “She’ s not my wife,” I returned. “I only met her tonight. We were lonely, so I took her out to dinner.”
“I see.” He still seemed embarrassed. “I thought I hadn’t seen her before. She’s very beautiful, isn’t she?”
I grunted. “Drop around one of these days. I’ll introduce you. She could do with a little company.”
“I most certainly will,” he said, brightening, and, engaging gear, drove back the way we had come.
* * *
I walked into the lobby of the hotel and glanced around. The place was empty except for a girl who sat behind the reception desk. She was chewing gum and reading a movie magazine. She didn’t look up until I reached the desk.
“Good evening,” I said.
She shot me an interested look and then reached for my key. “367?” she said.
“Right first time.” I took the key from her.
She was small, dark and nicely built. She had a red, pouting mouth and big, sulky eyes.
“Do you go with the hotel or are you hired by the hour?” I said, leaning on the desk and admiring her figure.
“Whichever way it is, it wouldn’t mean anything to you,” she said, touching her black curls with plump little fingers.
“It might,” I said. “I go for sophisticated dames in a big way.”
She chewed thoughtfully and then lifted her shoulders. “Don’t waste your time on me,” she said. “When I prospect for gold I use a dredger.”
I took out a roll of notes and showed it to her. “I light cigars with this stuff,” I said carelessly. “I keep my spending money in the bank.”
Her eyes popped a little and she became more friendly.
“Maybe we could call on your bank one day,” she said.
“Sure, any day you like,” I returned, and feeling I had gained her interest, I went on: “Tell me, who’s the guy in 369?”
“369’s empty,” she returned. “Why?”
“Did I say 369?” I shook my head. “That’s the third mistake I’ve made today. I meant 365.”
Her eyes became calculating. “I can’t tell you things like that,” she said, resting her cheek on her hand. “This is a respectable hotel.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” I took out my roll and pulled off a five-dollar note. I put my roll back and laid the five-spot on the desk. “Who did you say was in 365?”
Her hand whipped the note out of sight so fast I could scarcely follow the movement. “A guy called Jeff Gordan.”
“Jeff Gordan,” I repeated, smiling at her. “Isn’t he one of Starkey’s boys?”
Her face froze and her eyes became sulky again. �
�I wouldn’t know,” she said, and turned back to her magazine.
I said good night and went upstairs.
In my room, I hung my hat on a peg on the door and walked over to the bureau. I walked heavily so the guy next door would know I was back. I poured myself a large whisky and sat down.
For my first day I hadn’t done so badly. It looked like these three girls had been kidnapped. That was a tough break for them. It meant they were either dead by now or when the election was tied up they’d most certainly be knocked off.
Starkey wouldn’t let them loose to talk. A kidnapping rap was hard to beat these days.
It looked like the whole set-up revolved around Starkey. Max Esslinger was just a third-rate politician trying to make the grade. He was like all third-rate politicians. As long as he was elected, he wouldn’t care who suffered.
Wolf was different. He was making an effort to find the girls. But even then, he was doing it not because he cared a damn what happened to them, but because he had to put on an act to beat Starkey and Esslinger.
I drank some whisky and thought about Ted Esslinger. At least he was sincere, and I liked him for that. He was ready to throw his father down if it meant finding the girls.
The Street-Camera idea was interesting. I’d have to look into that. It was a neat, way of trapping a girl who’d been singled out for kidnapping. I wondered if the girls had been killed right away or whether they’d been hustled into a car at the back of the shop and taken away.
Then I remembered that a shoe belonging to one of the missing girls had been found in an empty house. It could have been a plant to switch the inquiry away from the Street-Camera shop. I decided that it had to be a plant. Otherwise it didn’t make sense.
I drank some more whisky and eyed the wall opposite. I was pretty sure this Jeff Gordan was the guy who’d been tailing Marian and me.
I got up, put the glass of whisky on the bureau and stared at the wall thoughtfully. It would be an idea, I reasoned, to find out what it was all about.
I left my room and knocked on the door of 365.
A man’s voice said: “Who is it?”
1945 - Blonde's Requiem Page 4