The Whip Hand

by Whip Hand (epub)

  "Uh-huh. And how did they carry the blanket away? By motor boat, on foot, camelback? Did you ask?"

  "That's the strange part. They left with some doctor. The place was a mess--blood. Funny part is the manager called the doctor, but he can't remember what doctor it was. One of the doctors in the phone book. With a fairly old Hudson. He remembers that. Funny, huh?"

  "Ha-ha!" I faked a laugh for him. "That is funny. Maybe he'd remember if you threatened to feed him the phone book."

  "I've got a man with him. Routine. It'll come back to him." He turned his back on me. "Meanwhile, Miss Dixon, we're running a check on all the doctors in town. We'll find him. The roadblock teams all have a description of the Hudson. Dark green, two-door sedan. That's about all we have. I wanted to keep you posted. Your car will be here soon."

  "Thanks a lot, Lieutenant," I butted in again.

  "You stay here, Brown. And cracking wise with me isn't helping your case any."

  "Me?"

  Miss Dixon, as he so frequently called her, led him to the door. She came back to where I was sitting.

  "So why did you ride him so much?"

  "Talking makes me forget the head. Almost. Well, Miss Dixon, when your car gets here, we'll take a drive and have a look for ourselves."

  "Think it'll do any good?"

  "I'm anxious to be of service to our protector."

  "All right--why wait? I'll bring another car around-- Oh, by the way, Bill, you can call me Kay."

  "I can?"

  "If you want to, I'd like it."

  "Okay, Kay. You may call me Bill."

  "Thanks, Bill."

  "That's okay, Kay."

  My God!

  Chapter 20

  Lieutenant Fred Campbell

  WHEN I got back to the car after leaving Miss Dixon, Bob was rolling a cigarette. That was one thing we had in common. Other than that he was a peaceful, happy driver, and I was the butt of all the serious pranks of all the maniacs who dropped off in Dallas. I got in.

  Bob blew a cloud of smoke at his window.

  "Where to, Lieutenant?"

  "I'm not sure. Hold everything a minute."

  That stupid motel manager. Couldn't remember what doctor he talked to, but remembered the laundry mark on the missing blanket and described it like he had slept under it every night of his life. That's the world. Materialism. I hoped some day I'd have a case where everyone involved would have a photographic memory.

  Oh, well, we'd find the doctor. It's just a matter of check and eliminate. The old routine. Sooner or later there he would be. The next link in the chain. That is, if we didn't find him dead and our boys gone again. In that case the next link would be still tougher, and we'd get farther behind unless we got an unforeseen break. Well, one thing at a time. Police work is very simple.

  "Let me make one, Bob."

  He passed me his tobacco and papers. I listened to the radio calls as they flew back and forth while I rolled the cigarette. Several no-makes on stolen cars. Some woman in Oak Cliff received a box through the mail and wanted a policeman to come out and open it. A disturbance in a joint on Jackson. On and on. We get all the troubles, big and little. I lit the cigarette and started to give Bob a gripe about this fact, but the radio voice asked me to come in. I picked up the mike.

  "Campbell here."

  "A lead on the kidnappers, Lieutenant," the radio barked, "and it looks good. A Doctor Mercedes claims to have one of them. Picked him up at a motel last night or very early this morning. Must be the one that's hurt--"

  "What's the address?"

  "2358 Roseland Avenue. Repeat, 2358 Roseland Avenue. Doctor Paul E. Mercedes."

  "On my way! I'll report in from there."

  I stuck the mike back on the rack.

  "Let's go, Bob."

  He threw on the siren and opened up the Buick. In a little under seven minutes we rolled up in front of the address, and parked behind the prowl car which had been radio-dispatched to the scene ahead of us. A small crowd had gathered, as crowds will when a patrol car and blaring siren stop in their neighborhood and a uniformed patrolman was trying to move them on about their business. But not them--they wanted to see what brought us there. I jumped out and climbed the steps. It was an old frame building with the yard kept in very good condition. Flowers bordered the walk, and on the porch railing a few pots of pink geraniums were lined up. Somebody in the crowd recognized me.

  "When you gonna catch them kidnappers, Fred? Me, I got the rope!"

  The crowd laughed; and I smiled back at them, waved, and entered the house. The talk about a rope was supposed to be a joke.

  Tommy Conover was on duty inside. A woman was prattling away in his ear, telling him all about it. I took her to be Mrs. Mercedes and it turned out she was. From Tommy's expression I knew this wasn't the first time he'd heard her story.

  "Please tell me all about it, ma'am," I said.

  She stopped the steady flow of gab, happy at the chance to start over, took a deep breath, and did so. She didn't give me much. It was the first night she'd ever spent in a closet and she made the most of it. She reached the end of her tale and started over again with hardly a pause.

  "Thanks a lot, Mrs. Mercedes. Tell Officer Conover here, now."

  He threw me a look, and settled back.

  "Where's the doctor?" I asked.

  Tommy pointed, and I went into what looked like an operating room. Doctor Mercedes was there working over some remains of a boy who had been literally chopped to pieces. From what I could see, I knew I wouldn't want to stay if all the bandages on his face were removed. The doctor glanced at me.

  "Lieutenant Campbell, Homicide," I said.

  He went back to work. "I don't know why I'm doing this, Lieutenant."

  "He's dying?"

  "Yes. No doubt of it."

  "Suppose that's why he was left here?"

  "Well, I don't know. The other one was dead set on getting him treated and talked about taking him with him last night. Could be I convinced him the boy wasn't going to live. I don't know. That fellow was crazy. Maybe he just didn't care any more, or meant to come back."

  "Maybe crazy some ways. Maybe like a fox, others, Doc."

  "Could be he couldn't feel any pulse and left him for dead. It's the faintest sort of a beat--he'd need a stethoscope, or awfully sensitive touch."

  "Can I talk to this one before it's too late?"

  "Sure. You can talk to him. You won't get an answer, though."

  I lifted the pile of wet gauze covering the lower part of the boy's face. "Jesus!" I put it back.

  "Lieutenant, who did this?"

  "Dixon, himself--the kidnap victim's father. Quite a beating, wasn't it?"

  "Worst I ever saw. Can't believe a leading citizen could do it."

  "Dixon was old school--law of the range and all that. In his blood."

  "Well, that's a terrible thing lying there," the doctor said.

  "Dixon is dead. Good thing, I guess. I wouldn't want this on my conscience. Dixon probably didn't have a conscience, though."

  "Obviously not one in good repair, at any rate," Doctor Mercedes said.

  "Doc, did you get any hint of the other one's intentions--like which way he might go?"

  "No--I don't think so. No. He stole my car, though."

  A slight tremor ran through the boy's body. His jaw worked weakly and I bent down over him just in case.

  He died then.

  It was eerie seeing him go like that after looking for him so hard. My luck to find him in time for that. The doctor threw a sheet over him and lit his pipe.

  "The beating killed him--right, Doc?" I asked.

  "Well--depends, I'd say. That was the cause, o'course. But I think he could've been saved with prompt and proper treatment and close attention--when I first saw him. What really killed him was shock and exposure."

  "Can you say that on the certificate, Doc?'

  "Don't see why not. That's my opinion."

  "Well, that'll ma
ke it a little better for Dixon's family --what's left of it."

  "What's done's done. No use making it harder on the living ones."

  "Okay, Doc. Thanks for seeing it that way. Looks like we're through here. I'll send an ambulance and get the body cleared out of your way."

  "Any time. I cancelled my appointments when I saw that mob out front."

  "They'll break up. I'll leave a good man, in case Junior gets lonesome for his brother and comes back."

  "Suit yourself, Lieutenant. And much obliged."

  "Doc, do you think your wife can keep this quiet?"

  "Do you?"

  "Well, talk to her anyway, Doc."

  "I'll try." He shrugged.

  "Did the other one leave anything, by the way?"

  "Yes, he did. There's a fine leather bag--over there."

  I went over and looked. Something clicked. A new leather bag, no, two of them just alike, were all we'd had to look for in the murder of that hustler in the hotel room downtown. It just might be. We could use that bartender in the grill where Madge Baeder made her last pickup to identify the dead boy or his clothing. It was worth a try, and I could sure use something to feed the wheels upstairs. Thinking back now to the grill customers with the identical leather bags, I decided it was a cinch. Well, it would help.

  I used the doctor's phone and ordered the ambulance for Donald, left instructions for the bartender to be called in, and was told the description of the doctor's green Hudson had been broadcast after the Doc reported Junior had borrowed it.

  Then I called Miss Dixon. She didn't answer. Neither did Mister Brown. Now what could I make of that? I thought of having a pickup, put out on them with orders to book Brown for complete investigation. By God, I would!

  I took up the phone, remembered a few things about Miss Dixon, and hung up again, halfway through the number I was dialing. Hell!

  I told Tommy Conover to stay in the house and set up a twenty-four hour guard outside, back and front; that I'd be in the car and expected to have Junior rounded up before dark so we could all start sleeping occasionally again.

  Bob was on the porch talking to the patrolman who'd tried to reason with the crowd. "Let's roll, Bob," I said.

  He got up, opened the car door for me, and I stepped in. The crowd was still thick along the sidewalk. Morbid curiosity. Well, why not? Dallas doesn't have a kidnapping every day, thank God.

  "All right, Bob. We'll make a round of the roadblocks, starting at the Fort Worth Pike."

  Check. Check. Check. That's all there is to it. I sensed the old feeling of getting warm. I thought I'd have Junior before the day was out if he was still in Dallas.

  And I was pretty sure he was.

  Chapter 21

  Junior Knowles

  THAT cold fried chicken shore hit the spot. I ate three pieces while me and Leonie walked up the road to the airport. I was watching things up there, but I never let on to be worrying none. If I done that she would start all them questions coming at me again.

  They was a couple of buses and maybe twelve-fifteen cars setting in the parking spaces in front of the building. Then I seen two of them cars was police cars.

  "Whoa, Leonie," I said and taken holt of her arm.

  "What, Junior?"

  "Just a minute--I got to figger before we git any closer."

  The ditch beside the road was deep enough to hide in, setting down. I pulled Leonie in and set her down alongside of me. Nobody couldn't see us over the tall grass even if a car come by.

  "Here's what, Leonie. You got to go to that building yonder and see how many policemen is in there. How many of 'em and where they're at."

  "I don't see how that'll help any, Junior."

  "We got to git past 'em to git on the airplane, ain't we?"

  "Junior," she said, real serious, "I don't go nowhere till you tell me about all that money, and about where Donald's went. I know you stole that money, didn't you? I want the gospel truth. I'm scared, Junior."

  "Aw--you ain't got no call to be scairt, honey. Shore, we stole the money. But it's done been done. No help for it."

  "Oh, I just knew it! You're in real terrible trouble, Junior! Where'd you steal it?"

  "From a bank--that's all. They got plenty left."

  "A bank! You robbed a bank, Junior? Lordy, mercy --You was taught better, I know."

  "Once't I git out of this here town, ain't nobody could find me. Now go on--"

  "No! Cain't you see, Junior? God knows, I'd like to have money, too; but not this here money. It ain't right--'tain't our'n."

  "'Tis so--now."

  "No it ain't. Now Junior, sweetheart, you got to listen to me. You got to give it back, and ask the judge, or whoever, for mercy. It'll go easier on you than getting caught; and I can wait for you some more, like I always have. Why, maybe they wouldn't even send you to jail a-tall when the bank gets the money* back. It's the onliest thing you can do--Junior, I don't want to lose you. I love you; please do like I'm asking you, honey."

  She was talking crazy, o'course. But she thought she was making sense, I knowed. And she was really scairt. I only knowed one thing to do--excite her by gitting her more scairt than she awready was and then make love to her. It's the only way I know how to calm down Leonie when she's having a hissy.

  I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her till her teeth rattled before I turned her aloose. "Now, you listen to me a minute! You don't know everything yet, and you're babbling about something ain't none of yore business. I ain't gonna give that there money back. And all I can tell you about Donald is he's gone for good. So shut up about it!"

  Now Leonie was a-bawling, and that nearly always meant she would do my bidding whether she wanted to or not. I knowed how to handle Leonie.

  "Don't cry," I said. I hugged her up to me, tight. "Everything's gonna come out all hunky-dory. You just wait and see. If you'll do what I say we'll git to some real loving in a little while--you'll see."

  After a lot more blubbering she finally slowed down and wiped her face on her petticoat. She was pulling herself together a whole lots better, like I'd planned it.

  "I'm all right Junior. What do you want me to do?"

  "That's my gal! I don't want much, Leonie--nothing that'll hurt you. I just want you to help, to do what I tell you we got to do."

  "Well-All right, Junior."

  I lean't over and kissed her, but not too long; just enough to put it on her mind. Then I got down to the real business.

  "Go on up to the building yonder and see about them cops, first. And then come back right here. I'll wait on you."

  Leonie's shoulders drooped and she looked sad. But she got up and started down the road. I felt better, for a few minutes I'd sort of been leery of what she might do, mixed up like she was. Now I figgered she'd do what I said from here on out.

  After while I stood up in the ditch to look and I seen her coming back. I waved at her and set back down out of sight. She come into the grass and set beside me. "How many, Leonie?"

  "All I could see was three. In uniform, I mean. How do we know all of 'em wear uniforms?" "Where they at?"

  "Well, one was by the door when I went in, a little man, nice-looking, for a policeman. He had a little old red mustache, and--"

  "Dern his looks, Leonie! Where's the rest?" "I was just telling you what I--" "Where's the rest?"

  "Well," she said, "the other two stayed pretty close together, not far from the ticket windows. But one went over to the other side of the building twice't while I was there. Watching the airplanes outside, I reckon." "Three, huh? You shore?"

  "That's all I seen, Junior," she said in a tired sort of voice.

  "That's a plenty when you're talking about policemen." Too dang many, I said to myself. But the roads had more than that; and by now they was looking for that doctor's car like monkeys looking for fleas, I bet.

  "Leonie, here's some twenty-dollar bills. I don't know how much you'll need. Put 'em in yore purse and go back up there and git two airplane
tickets. To Houston." "Houston?"

  "That's right--lots of airplanes will be going there. When you git 'em, find out what time we leave. And then look around, or maybe the ticket man will tell you, and see what door we go out to git to the airplane. If he wants to know who them tickets is for, say Mr. and Mrs. George Smith--so's they won't know who we really are. Now, say it back to me."

  "Oh, I can remember, Junior. Get tickets to Houston, calling us Mr. and Mrs. George Smith. Find out what time we leave and the door we go out!"

  "That's pretty good. But it ain't all. Here's the main thing--mosey around and see if I can git to where that door leads out without no policeman seeing me from where they was a while ago. Look good, Leonie. You understand everything now?'

  "Yes, Junior. I do."

  "Awright, then, light a shuck."

  This was my only chance to git out of Dallas, with the roads all stopped up with cops. I put on a sweat waiting on Leonie this time. But just so she done everything like I said and found me a way to git out, I could wait till the cows come home.

  She finally come back. She was smiling a little smile when she set down again.

  "I made it easy, Junior. Got the tickets, and we leave at one o'clock."

  "The doors, how--"

  "Let me finish. It's gate number seven. And if we walk on past the front door and down to the baggage room, then go in through there, we can come out in the hall right across from the right gate."

  "No policemen in the baggage room?"

  "No, not hardly nobody, when I was in there."

  "Anybody say anything when you got them tickets?"

  "Huh-uh. The man just wrote down that name you give me."

  "You done real good, Leonie. What time of day is it now?"

  "It was nearly ten when I got the tickets."

  "Ten? Means we got three hours to wait! But it cain't be helped."

  "How'll we know when it's time, Junior?"

  "Dang if I know, 'cept by the sun. But maybe they's a whistle blows at noon somewheres around here. That'd give us a good idee when to start up there."

  "That's smart, Junior."

  "Anyhow we better not wait in this ditch, I don't think. Better go back and hide in them trees where I put the car. We can rest some. Maybe I could even git a little shut-eye. Shore ain't had much lately."