Cookie: “If you call this Cuba. He’s been around these joints ever since he got out of stir. Say, you don’t know no more about him than the police; and it’s a cinch they’re plenty wrong about him if they say Sam was mixed up in anything down on the Island last night. I seen him going in Vogel’s at—”
Dum-Dum suddenly jumps up, reaches for his knife, which is not in its usual place at his waistband, then hits Cookie in the face with his fist. A waiter swings his tray high in the air with both hands and bangs it down on Cookie’s head. As Cookie falls down on all fours another man hits him with a bottle, and then half a dozen are making flying leaps at him as the lights go out.
The orchestra, in the manner of a well-trained orchestra in a joint, continues, playing a little louder than usual. When the lights go on, Nora is one half of the only couple still dancing. Nick is the other half of the couple. Nora’s former partner is coming out from under a table. Police are coming into the place. Cookie has disappeared.
Nick: “Shall we rejoin our guests, Mrs. Charles?”
Before Nora can reply, her former partner comes up to her holding one side of his jaw, saying: “Are you all right? Something bumped into me something terrible.”
Nick looks down at the knuckles of his right hand, but does not say anything.
They return to their table. Their uneaten dinner is a smeary mess. The police are trying to find out what happened.
Dum-Dum: “It is that Cookie. Always he want to start something—always a fight.”
Nick: “I didn’t see him do anything.”
Waiter: “Aw, you can’t wait till he does anything. It’s too late then. You got to get the jump on him.”
Another man: “That’s right. It’s a kind of look he gets in his eye.”
Nick gives it up. He and Nora start to leave. Nick gets his hat and they start down the stairs.
Nora, stopping: “Oh, Asta. I checked Asta.”
Nick returns to the hatcheck room and gets Asta, who has been sleeping on a pile of coats. When Asta gets up from them the hatcheck girl calmly begins to pick them up one at a time to hang them carefully on hangers.
As Nick and Nora go downstairs, Nick: “Before we get outside, darling. We have a baby—remember? You didn’t check that, did you?”
Nora: “I left Nicky home with the policemen.”
Nick, as they go into the street: “Oh, the policemen, of course. What policemen?”
Nora: “That Lieutenant Guild sent up to the hotel to guard him. Oh, there’s the park. Let’s give Asta a little run in it before we go home.”
Nick, as they walk toward the park: “Did you have a chance to count the policemen?”
Nora: “I counted both of them.”
Nick: “I’m glad there are only two.”
Nora: “So am I, because they said they were going to stay with us till things quieted down if it took six months, and that they wouldn’t be any trouble at all—we could just treat them like members of the family.”
They turn Asta loose in the park and sit down wearily on a bench, where Nora immediately falls asleep. Nick is thinking. He makes up his mind, calls Asta, ties him to the bench, gets up quietly, and leaves Asta and Nora there.
At the Chestevere Apartments Nick knocks on Linda Mills’s door. There is the sound of movement in the apartment, but nobody opens the door. Nick knocks again.
The Chestevere landlady comes out of another apartment. She is a frowsy, middle-aged woman with the sniffles. In one hand she carries a newspaper, in the other a handkerchief.
Landlady: “At this time of morning, mister, she’s either asleep or ain’t home yet.”
She peers sharply at Nick, then down at the newspaper in her hand.
Nick cranes his neck to see his picture in the paper, then strikes the pose shown in the picture.
Landlady, all agog: “Say, you’re him, ain’t you?”
Nick bows.
Landlady, dabbing her nose with her handkerchief: “Well, I declare. What are you—” She lowers her voice to a noisy whisper. “Say, is she involved?”
Nick: “Who?” he whispers. The next seven lines are spoken in whispers that would be audible at a distance of twenty feet or more.
Landlady, gesturing toward the door with her handkerchief: “Mills.”
Nick: “What makes you think she might be—involved, as you put it?”
Landlady: “You being here—and then that friend of hers.”
Nick: “What friend?”
Landlady, raising paper to show Church’s picture—rogues’ gallery picture: “Him.”
Nick: “Do you know him?”
Landlady: “I seen him coming in and out.”
Nick: “When’s the last time you seen him?”
Landlady: “I don’t know. Maybe a couple of weeks. But that don’t mean nothing. Sometimes I don’t see my tenants for that long—them that ain’t behind in their rent.”
Nick: “What does Linda Mills do for a living?”
Landlady: “What do you think these girls do? I don’t run no Y.M.C.A. She’s been here a couple of years and she’s good pay. That’s all I care about. That’s what I tell some of the others when they kick about her throwing noisy parties sometimes and having fights in her flat.”
Nick: “How’s chances of finding out whether she’s in now?”
Landlady: “I’ll see.”
She knocks on the door, then knocks louder, calling in an unnaturally sweet voice: “Miss Mills. Miss Mills. It’s me, Mrs. Dolley.”
There is no answer. She dabs her nose with the handkerchief and takes a bunch of keys from her belt, unlocks the door, sticks her head in, and calls again: “Miss Mills.” Then to Nick: “I guess she ain’t in all right.”
Nick, stepping into the apartment, pushing the door back against the wall and standing with a heel against it, holding it there: “That’s too bad. Will you do me a favor?”
Landlady: “What?”
Nick: “I left the district attorney sitting out front in my car. Will you ask him to come up?”
Landlady, impressed: “Yes, sir.” She hurries away.
Cookie comes out sheepishly from behind the door. He has a black eye, a swollen ear, and his clothes are torn.
Cookie: “I can explain everything if you just give me a chance.”
Nick: “That’s dandy. How about explaining that bag of nails at the West Indies.”
Cookie: “Oh, that! Those guys get too excited.”
Nick: “I agree with you, but the point is, what was it they got too excited about this morning?”
Cookie: “I don’t know—unless maybe they thought I hadn’t ought to dragged Linda’s name in.”
Nick: “You mean they’re old-fashioned gentlemen who think a woman’s name shouldn’t be bandied about a pub?”
Cookie: “No, not exactly, but—I don’t want to do the gal no harm. She and Sam Church don’t pal around no more, so I don’t see how I was tying her up in anything. That’s what I came over here for after they threw me out of that dump—to tell her about it and see what she said.”
Nick: “And?”
Cookie: “No soap. She ain’t home.”
Nick: “How did you get in?”
Cookie: “The door’s unlocked. Try it yourself.”
Nick tries the door, finds it unlocked.
Nick: “I’ve misunderstood the whole thing. I thought the boys ganged up on you when you mentioned Vogel’s name.
Cookie: “Vogel? What Vogel?”
Nick, patiently: “You said Church wasn’t down on the Island last night because you saw him going into Vogel’s. And then the shindig was on.”
Cookie: “Oh, sure, I remember now. I started to say I saw Sam going in Vogel’s Delicatessen down on Third Avenue last night and he told me he was catching a ’leven o’clock train south, so I knew he couldn’t have been down on Long Island way around one.”
Nick: “Unless he was lying to you.”
Cookie, earnestly: “But why woul
d he lie to me?”
Nick: “I give up. What Vogel is this that has the delicatessen?”
Cookie: “Do I know? Sol Vogel or something.”
Nick: “Not Diamond-Back Vogel?”
Cookie: “You mean the gambler? What would he be doing with a delicatessen?”
The Landlady comes back, saying: “I couldn’t find no car out front with or without a district attorney.”
Nick: “I’m sorry. He’s such a restless fellow. Have you met Cookie?”
Landlady: “I seen him somewhere, but I never met him.”
Nick: “Cookie’s a friend of Linda Mills.”
Landlady: “Maybe. I seen him somewhere.”
Nick: “Mind if I look around?”
He goes into the living room without waiting for the landlady’s reply, then into the kitchen, and finally into the bedroom. The apartment is not dirty, but there are signs that Linda Mills is a careless housekeeper. The landlady complains about cigarette burns on a table and when she touches them, she gets dust on her fingers. The bed has not been made; its two pillows are on a chair beside the bed.
Nick notices an unfaded rectangle of wallpaper the size and shape of a nearby picture, looks behind the picture, and sees that the wallpaper behind it is faded the same shade as the uncovered paper—except where a small patch of white paper has been pasted over a small hole.
He goes over to the bed. On the floor beside the bed there is a scorched spot on the rug.
Nick: “How long since either of you have seen this Mills girl?”
Cookie: “Oh, I’d say ten days anyways, maybe longer.”
Landlady: “I ain’t seen her in a couple of weeks, but that ain’t unusual. I don’t see my people much most of the time—them that ain’t behind with their rent.”
Nick: “What does she look like?”
The landlady and Cookie collaborate in giving him a description that would fit either Lois MacFay or the nurse, Ella Waters, with allowances for heavy makeup, flashy clothes, a tougher manner, etc.
Nick, wandering around, opening drawers: “She get much mail?”
Landlady: “Not that I know anything about.”
Nick stops by a small table and, as if idly, thumbs the phone directory there.
Cookie, coming over to him, eagerly helping him turn the pages: “See, there is Sol Vogel, the delicatessen on Third Avenue. See, I didn’t lie to you. See.”
Nick, skeptically: “I see it’s in the book and I believe it’s on Third Avenue, but I don’t know how much further I can go with you.”
Cookie begins long-winded protestations of his trustworthiness, which continue while Nick leaves the apartment and walks down the street. Cookie trots along beside him, chattering away until they are in front of an electrical appliance shop.
(Nick then drops back, the CAMERA PANNING WITH COOKIE until he suddenly realizes he is alone, turns to look back, cannot see Nick, and, crestfallen, goes on alone.)
Presently Nick comes out of the electrical appliance shop, saying “A million thanks” to someone inside, and goes off down the street.
When Nick returns to Nora and Asta in the park, she is still asleep. He starts to rouse her, then sits down beside her, starts once more, hesitates, his eyelids drooping, lifts his hand a couple of inches in another attempt, and goes to sleep beside her.
When they are finally awakened it is early afternoon.
In their suite at the Normandie, Nick and Nora find Nick Jr.’s guards—Detectives Dan Schultz and Red Jensen—playing cards. Nick Jr. is sitting under the table playing with a pistol.
Nora cries out in consternation.
Jensen: “It’s all right, lady. I took the bullets out. He can’t hurt anything.”
Nick Jr. bangs the pistol down on Jensen’s foot.
Schultz falls out of his chair laughing, gasping between laughs: “That kid’s a humdinger. I never seen anything like him.” He points at the child, who is staring with calm interest at Jensen holding his injured foot, and goes off into further roars of laughter.
Nora picks up Nick Jr., separates him from the pistol, and goes toward the bedroom. Asta grabs the pistol and heads for the kitchen with it, Jensen running after him.
Nick, to Schultz: “We live like this.” He follows Nora into the bedroom, where he takes the child from her and begins to play with it.
Nora: “Sh-h-h. You’ll wake her up.”
Nick: “Who?”
Nora, indicating door opposite the one they came in through: “Didn’t I tell you I brought Lois up with me?”
Nick: “No, you didn’t. Are you telling me now?”
Nora: “But, Nick, I couldn’t leave her down there alone with all those terrible things happening.” She puts a finger to her lips and goes over to open the other bedroom door. Nick goes with her.
In the next room Lois is lying in bed apparently asleep. There are no pillows on the bed.
As Nora softly shuts the door a commotion breaks out in the living room, that door opens, and Schultz sticks his head in.
Schultz: “Hey! Gangrene’s setting in out here.”
They go into the living room. The corridor door is open. Jensen is blocking the doorway, trying to keep out Creeps, Whacky, and six or eight of their friends, each with a child of some sort in tow.
Nora: “The baby party!”
AN HOUR LATER, WITH THE BABY PARTY IN FULL BLAST. THE SCENE:
1. Creeps and Whacky tend the door, insisting that “You can’t come in unless you got a kid.”
2. Gilbert Wynant is slugged when Mimi tries to pass him off as a kid.
3. Bootleg business in kids being passed out at service chute at a dollar a head to be used as tickets of admission. Nick Jr. used for this purpose, as his guards have trouble telling one child from another and are satisfied to be guarding any child that is about the same age and size as Nick Jr.
4. Children of Nora’s more social friends, some terrified by the thugs’ brats, some delighted.
5. Mrs. Bellam and Freddie come to see Lois, but are drowned in party before they see her. She is still asleep.
6. Assortment of gifts brought for Nicky, ranging from costly dolls to homemade blackjacks.
7. Creeps, with his collection of keys to fit every door in the hotel, throws open adjoining suites to the guests as Nick and Nora’s suite becomes crowded. A very dainty young girl from one of the higher social levels follows him around in admiration, and when, in one of the suites they open, a man sits up in bed, she snarls at him: “Nick Charles has brought his mob on from the Coast and we’re taking the dump over for a little while, but you’ll be okay if’n you stay in bed with your head under the covers.” The man quickly takes her advice.
8. A drunk staring at the party in two layers—bending down, he sees a room full of children, playing, squabbling on the floor, with everything above them a hazy blur; standing erect he sees a riotous adult party, with the children blotted out by the haze.
9. Creeps and a thug near a telephone. Nick comes to phone, says to operator: “Hello, darling, will you get me . . .’s candy store.” Then: “This is Nick Charles at the Normandie Hotel. Can you send me over [some candy suitable for children] right away? Thanks.” He hangs up, starts away from phone, then remembers something, and says: “Creeps, will you phone the drugstore and order some . . .” Creeps says: “Sure, Nick,” picks up the phone and tells the operator: “Sweetheart, will you get me the drugstore?” Then: “Will you send . . . to Nick Charles at the Normandie Hotel?” The Thug, curiously: “What do they do, send it up C.O.D?” Creeps: “No, these rich people don’t have to bother about things like that. They pay for it downstairs and put it on the bill.” The Thug: “Say, that ain’t bad.” He picks up the telephone and says: “Snooky, will you get me Tiffany’s jewelry store?” Creeps takes the phone away from him.
FLASHES:
1. Smitty at her phone, saying heatedly: “He’s gone to the Normandie? He can’t get away with that.” (It should seem that she may be speaking
threateningly, though she is not.)
2. Dum-Dum, at drugstore phone, speaking to Smitty, saying softly but menacingly: “Maybe you’re right, but you stay away from there.” He hangs up, thinks for a moment, then leaves the store, steps into a taxi, and says to the driver: “Drop me around the corner from the Normandie, Ted.”
3. Smitty getting up from phone, grabbing hat and coat, and leaving apartment.
4. Nick Jr.’s nurse walking up and down the street opposite the Normandie, starting toward it, then walking on a little way.
5. Vogel getting out of a car in front of the Normandie.
6.Church, his hat pulled down over his face, walking swiftly toward the Normandie.
Nora, in her bedroom, picks up the telephone and asks the operator: “Will you ring my living room, please?”
In the living room, Nick answers the phone. The ensuing conversation is interrupted from time to time by one or another of his guests falling over him, etc.
Nora, in a disguised voice: “Mr. Charles?”
Nick: “Yes.”
Nora: “Oh, Nickie. Guess who this is.”
Nick: “Oh, hello! It’s good hearing your voice again. I didn’t recognize it for a moment. How have you been?”
Nora: “Who is it, then?”
Nick: “Now you don’t think I’d ever forget your voice.”
Nora: “Yes, I do. Who am I?”
Nick: “Okay, who are you?”
Nora: “Oh, Nickie, to think you’d forget poor little me in just a few years.”
Nick: “I know your voice as well as I do my own, but I just can’t place it at the moment.”
Nora: “It’s Letty, Nickie!”
Nick: “Who?”
Nora: “Letty Finhaden. Don’t you remember? My papa used to have a lighthouse.”
Nick: “Of course . . . This connection is so bad and there is so much noise I can hardly hear you. How are you, darling?” He takes the Belle Spruce note from his pocket and nods at it.
Nora: “I’m fine, but you had forgotten me completely.”
Nick: “No, no. It’s all this noise. I often think about you. How is your father?”
Nora: “He’s all right, except that he gets a little giddy climbing up and down those ladders. Can you meet me for lunch, Nickie?”
Crime Stories Page 124