by Dell Shannon
Lake brought him a cable. It was from the Surete and said simply, PRINTS UNKNOWN OUR RECORDS. Mendoza snarled at it.
Of course, strictly speaking, it wasn't the Surete's fault. Passports didn't carry a typed address, only one filled in by the holder. But the French passport bureau might, for God's sake, have noted down something about the girl. What the proof of citizenship had been, something.
And he reflected moodily, they'd have to bury the poor girl eventually. They couldn't leave her down in the cold tray at the morgue indefinitely.
Hackett looked in the door and said, "Gerber gave us a statement. He admitted he was on the heist with Bauman, but it was Bauman had the gun and fired it."
" Naturalmente."
"So it's up to the D.A.'s office what to call it. Want to bet it'll start murder two and get reduced? Tom's doing the final report on it. Anything new gone down?"
"I don't know. Everybody seems to be out somewhere on something." Sunday was just another day to the men at Robbery-Homicide.
***
HACKETT WENT DOWN the hall for a cup of coffee, but he hadn't taken more than three sips before Lake buzzed him.
"Attempted heist, it's a liquor store on Wilshire and the squad's got him."
"No rest for the wicked," said Hackett, annoyed. He abandoned the coffee and went back downstairs to the parking lot. The liquor store was a little way out on Wilshire.
The heister had picked a wrong target on this one. The store owner was a hefty ex-Marine by the name of Nolan who worked out at a gym regularly, and the gun hadn't scared him worth a damn. He said to Hackett disgustedly, "For Christ's sake, the damn punk didn't even have his finger in the trigger guard! Does he think I'm a goddamn idiot? I just took one swing at him and put him out cold, and called for cops, and I bet some goddamn fool judge sends him up for sixty days, poor guy not responsible because his mama spanked him too much."
The heister was sitting on the floor propped against the counter. The patrolman had put the cuffs on him, and he was feeling his bruised jaw with both cuffed hands. He raised his head to look at Hackett, and Hackett said pleasedly, "Well, I will be damned if it isn't Baby Face."
The various descriptions had been faithful. The man looked about twenty-five and he was fairly tall and husky F but he had a round, boyish face, a shock of white-blond hair. He was very neatly dressed in brown slacks and a clean white sports shirt. He looked as if he was ready to cry.
The patrolman handed the gun to Hackett. It was an old. 32 Colt automatic and it wasn't loaded.
"All right, let's have your name," said Hackett.
The heister said in a thin voice, "Ricky Davies. I'm sorry. He didn't need to hit me that hard, I wouldn't have done anything to him. The gun's not loaded. I don't even know how to load a gun."
Nolan said, "Oh, for Christ's sake."
Hackett reached down and helped Davies onto his feet.
"Come on, I think we want a little talk with you." The uniformed man went out to go back on tour and Nolan said to nobody in particular, "These goddamn punks."
At least the air-conditioning was back on at the jail. While Davies was getting booked in, Hackett called the office and told Lake to start the machinery on the warrant. Davies had I.D. on him, a driver's license, a couple of credit cards and nineteen-sixty-four in cash. He sat hunched in the cramped little interrogation room, and asked in a subdued voice, "Can I call my wife? She's going to be upset as hell about this and I don't know how to tell her. She thinks I'm out with a buddy of mine. She's going to be mad as hell at me and I don't blame her."
Hackett offered him a cigarette and he said he didn't smoke. "You can call your wife whenever you like, and a lawyer. How did you get into this?" Davies was hardly the seasoned criminal by his looks and manner.
Davies said miserably, "It was on account of all the bills. I never did anything wrong before in my life-never wanted to. But it's just, everything costs so much. I've got a good job- I work at Desmond's men's store up on Western-and I thought Stella and I could get by O.K. on what we both make, we just got married six months ago-but we had to get an apartment, I'd been living at home with Mom and she'd been with her folks too, and the rent's three-fifty-you can't find anything much cheaper and it's not a high-class place at that, and Stella's used to nice things- I wanted her to have nice things-and we had to get furniture and a lot of things. She works too, she's a cocktail waitress at the Tail o' Cock, but even between us there's the payments on her car, and my car, and the rent, and all the groceries, I never realized how much groceries cost. And then she said she'd all ways wanted a diamond watch and I got her one for her birthday-and you got to dress pretty sharp in my job and I even when I get a discount it adds up." He took a breath.
"And Stella likes nice clothes-all pretty girls do. And the Visa account got up to the limit, a thousand bucks, and I missed one payment on the car, and then Stella got the flu and was off work a week, and she'd used up her vacation and sick leave when we went on the honeymoon. We went up to Tahoe and that was part of the Visa account. And I got so I just didn't know which way to turn," said Davies helplessly. "And Stella wanted to get me a nice birthday present, it's this gold ring with my initials, she put it on our account at Bullocks', it was ninety-four bucks-and I was feeling kind of desperate, if you get me. I got that gun at a pawn shop for thirty dollars. I don't know anything about guns, I never had any bullets for it-and people just handed over the money. I thought if I came right downtown here there wouldn't be the chance of anybody recognizing me from up in Hollywood. I felt pretty bad about it, it was all wrong, but I got the Visa account nearly cleared up. Stella never looks at the statement- I knew she wouldn't notice." He looked at Hackett, his face haggard. "She's going to be mad as hell at me, get into all this."
"Have you ever been in any trouble before?"
He shook his blond head. "I never even had a parking ticket."
Hackett stood up. "We1l, you can get bail and your wife can get you a lawyer." It was funny in a way, and he felt sorry for this stupid kid. It would probably end up as a reduced charge. Call it a year in and probation. "You'd better call your wife and break the news."
"Thanks," said Davies meaninglessly. Hackett turned him over to the jailer and started back to the office to write the final report on this.
***
MENDOZA HAD GONE home and nobody else was left in the office at five-fifty, except Higgins and Palliser. They were on their way out past the switchboard when Lake beckoned, put down the earphone and said, "Something funny, boys. It's the California Community Hospital and they say they've got a murder. The desk downstairs relayed the call. It's a Dr. Rasmussen. Says one of the patients has been murdered."
"For God's sake," said Higgins. "And hell, the night watch won't be on for a couple of hours. We'd better have a quick look and see what it is anyway. O.K. John? Jimmy, call our wives and say we'll be late."
"Murder at a hospital," said Palliser as they waited for the elevator. "Funny isn't the word. I didn't think anybody was ever alone long in a hospital, and you usually need privacy to commit a murder." They took Higgins' Pontiac and drove down to that fairly old hospital on Hope Street. In the main lobby, Higgins asked one of the receptionists for Dr. Rasmussen.
"That's me," said a voice behind him. "The other one doesn't look much like a cop, but I spotted you when you walked in." Big craggy-faced Higgins might as well have COP tattooed on his forehead. Rasmussen was a young man with crisp light brown hair, a nearly handsome face with a long nose and bright eyes. "This is the damnedest thing I ever heard of, but when I saw what it was I thought we'd better rope you in. Your business. The damnedest thing." He yawned. "Look, can we sit down to talk? I'm bushed. Had a hell of a day, and now this-and I'm not off till seven and I suppose you'll keep me hanging around. You'll want to talk to all the nurses-"
"Let's take one thing at a time," said Higgins. They sat down in one corner of the lobby and he offered Rasmussen a cigarette. "What's this all about?" Rasm
ussen was probably one of the interns here, about the right age.
"This patient, Carlo Alisio, cancer patient-man seventy-four and pretty far gone. He was riddled with it. He was in for radiation and therapy, and oddly enough-but it's unpredictable-he'd suddenly gone into remission. We thought he was going any time, about ten days ago, warned the family. But he'd perked up and was doing pretty well. Just a question of time, of course. He was due to be transferred to the V.A. hospital tomorrow. His Medicare had run out and he was eligible." Rasmussen drew strongly on his cigarette. "I saw him for just a minute this morning-no occasion to again, until the nurse called me. That was about five o'clock. She'd gone in for a routine check and found him dead."
"Was he in a private room?" asked Palliser.
"You know what year it is? Hell, no, who can afford it, and we don't have any left. He was in a three-bed room, but the other two patients are fairly comatose-not up to noticing anything-and the curtain was up around Alisio's bed. I thought, of course, he'd just passed out naturally, and I was a little surprised, I must say. Then when I took a look at him-well, the nurse had seen it too- I was even more damned surprised. He was smothered with the pillow. All you have to do is look, it was still over his face. But I looked at it- I don't suppose even your smart lab men could get fingerprints off a pillowcase-"
"You'd be surprised at that, too," said Higgins.
"- And there is the plain evidence. He'd struggled and bitten a piece out of the pillowcase. There's saliva and mucous stains, and a piece of cloth and thread still in his mouth. The damnedest thing."
"Do you know if he had any visitors today?"
Rasmussen said, "The nurse can tell you, but I'd have a bet on it. There was a big family-Italians after all-and all evidently pretty close. Somebody always coming to see him and calling in. Sisters, brothers, nieces and nephews. He was a widower. But we chase the visitors away about four-thirty.
The nurses like to get dinner over with early."
"How long do you think he'd been dead?" asked Palliser.
Rasmussen shrugged. "He was still warm. I'd say not over an hour-possibly less. What do we do about the body? I thought you'd want to see it, told the nurses to stay out."
Higgins looked at his watch and swore. "We'd better have some pictures, at least. And unless somebody's working overtime in the lab-" He got up, went to call in.
Then Rasmussen took them up to the third floor and pointed out the room halfway along the hall. There was a little huddle of nurses gathered at the station at that end, whispering excitedly together. They eyed Higgins and Palliser with avid curiosity. "He's in the bed by the window," said Rasmussen, following them in.
The patients in the first two beds, two old men, seemed to be asleep or in comas; neither stirred. The white curtain was pulled across the side of the bed by the window. They stepped around it and looked at the dead man. Alisio had been a small old man, thin and bald with a big nose. The gray-stubbled face was contorted, his mouth and eyes open, the body twisted to one side, right arm up over his head-he had struggled for his ebbing life. The pillow was on one side of the body and they could see the little piece bitten out of the casing, the stains on the rest.
"I will be damned," said Higgins. "I left word at the lab. Somebody will be out as soon as the night watch comes in. I don't suppose it'd disturb the other patients in here, if you 1 just leave him a couple of hours."
Rasmussen said, "Unlikely."
"Well, after our men have got some photographs, we'd like you to send the body down to the coroner's office for autopsy. The nurses on now don't go off shift until eleven, is that right?"
"Right."
"What I'd like you to do," said Higgins, massaging his jaw and thinking, "is to notify the family that he's dead. Just that. They'd been expecting him to go-they won't be surprised."
"They'll want the body," said Rasmussen. "What do we tell them?"
"Oh, we'll be around asking questions," said Higgins. "I guess we can leave it for the night watch, John. And I think I'll call Luis. He always likes the offbeat ones. He's going to love this one, in spades."
***
MENDOZA HAD EXCHANGED the orderly peace at the office for the bedlam of an obstreperous family at home. "They've been wild as hawks all day," said Alison crossly.
The twins flung themselves at him and pummeled him.
"Daddy, Daddy! I galloped real fast on Star and Uncle Ken says I'm a tomboy, what's a tomboy.?" "Daddy, Mama says we can't take the ponies to school, why couldn't we ride the ponies to school?"
"It wouldn't be good for them to walk on the street," said Mendoza at random.
"Mairi's been fixing my uniform. Girls get to wear a uniform because they're more important than boys," said Terry loudly.
"Are not! Girls aren't important to anybody! And I galloped faster on Diamond! Why wouldn't it be good for them, Daddy?"
"Nobody's more important than anybody else," said Alison. "For heaven's sake, go to your rooms and play quietly at something and give your father some peace. It's the school, of course. They'll settle down in a couple of days, I hope."
Tomorrow was the opening day of the semester for both public and parochial schools. Having completed kindergarten, Johnny and Terry would be starting first grade at the Immaculate Heart Parochial School down the hill in Burbank. And as Alison said, her good Scots Presbyterian father was probably turning in his grave, but it couldn't be helped. At least they'd get a sounder education than most public schools offered these days.
"Why wouldn't it be good for them, Daddy?"
"It would hurt their feet," said Alison. The cats, affronted at all the noise, had departed huffily. Cedric began to bark.
"But we want to ride the ponies to school! It'd be lots more fun than riding an old school bus. Why can't we-"
"We've told you why," said Alison.
"And besides, if girls aren't more important than boys, how come I get to wear a uniform and Johnny doesn't? A uniform is special."
"Because that's the way the school rules are," said Alison. "And we'll hear no more about it. You two go and see what Mairi's doing."
"I know what she's doing, she's fixing my uniform because the skirt was too long."
"And I don't see a uniform is so special, she's got to wear it, it's a rule, and I can wear anything I want. So-"
"No, you can't. You have to wear dark pants and a white shirt, so that's like a uniform too. And now we'll drop the subject. Why don't you go out and see the ponies again?"
"We want Daddy to play with us," shouted Terry promptly. "Play bears and lions!"
"Oh, Terry, you haven't played that since you were a baby. Daddy's too tired to play."
"?Demonios, que relajo! " said Mendoza. " Basta, you two. Daddy's got too much to think about to play. You chase off and visit the ponies."
"We already did. We just came back, and Uncle Ken said we was little devils."
"So you are," said Alison. She finally persuaded them to begin practicing their reading for school, and they made as much noise on the stairs as both the ponies. Alison sank down on the couch. "What a day, and what a relief to have them in school all day! I'll bet you in a week's time it'll be, why do we have to go to school?"
Mendoza laughed. "I wouldn't doubt. They'll grow out of it sometime, carina." He went out to the kitchen for a drink. El Senor heard the cupboard open and was on the counter before he had the top off the bottle. Mendoza said, " Borracho," and poured him half an ounce. Back in the living room he said, "The Surete hasn't a damn thing to tell us. And you know we can't leave her in the morgue. There ought to be some sort of funeral."
"Oh, dear," said Alison. She sat up and lit a cigarette. "I know there was something else she said that just escapes me-and you know it sounds silly, Luis, we didn't know the girl at all, but I feel somehow that we ought to send flowers or attend the funeral or something."
"Yes, I know." Mendoza had the same queer feeling. He was still thinking about Juliette, which was futile, becau
se there wasn't anything else he could do about it, when they settled down after dinner. For once Kipling couldn't hold his interest. But at eight-thirty Higgins called to tell him about the new offbeat one and that gave him something else to think about.
***
“WELL, OF ALL THE RIGMAROLES,"I said Conway, scanning Higgins' note. "The day men have left us a little work. On the other hand, we may meet some pretty nurses." He shoved the note over to Piggott.
"Somebody's got to mind the store," said Schenke. "I'll toss you for it."
"No, I want to go talk to the nurses. What a hell of a funny thing," said Conway. "Why bother to murder a man who's as good as dead already?"
"Could've been what they call a mercy killing," suggested Piggott. "Some people don't think so straight about things like that."
"Or a homicidal maniac among the orderlies," said Conway. "O. K, Bob. You sit on the store and if you get swamped, you know where we are. Come on, Matt. Let's see what we can find out about the maniac."
Schenke sat and finished his historical novel in the unnatural gloom and quiet of the big office, before the desk relayed a call. It wasn't a heist this time, but a mugging, and it looked like another in that series that was probably organized gang activity. It was the parking lot at Madame Wu's in Little Tokyo, and the couple were fighting mad.
They looked like money, a couple in the thirties, Mr; and Mrs. James Ferguson, dressed to the nines. Her expensive evening gown had one sleeve ripped nearly out. He had the start of a fine shiner and his sport shirt was slashed. "God-damn it," he was saying to the patrolman, probably for the tenth time, "I tried to put up a fight, but there must've been six or eight of the damn bastards-"
"We never saw them, they came out from behind some cars-just grabbed us and held us while the rest of them tore off my necklace and earrings-"
"And got my billfold- I tried to get loose and put up a fight but they were all damn big bastards-"