'I know Lincoln,' the driver said, his eyes glittering. 'He cut my father once. Man I thought he was going to cut me but I played it smart.'
The cop climbed into the cab.
'Get me to a telephone.'
Five minutes later, two patrol cars pulled up near the alley down which Moe had disappeared. Police spilled out, guns in hand, but they were too late. Although they searched the district, they found no trace of Moe.
***
The gentle scratching on Lee Hardy's front door alerted Jacko that Moe had arrived. He nodded to Hardy.
'Let him in,' he said, lifting the gun so it pointed at Hardy who got to his feet and went into the lobby. As soon as Hardy was out of sight, Jacko went over to the desk and took Hardy's gun from the drawer. He shoved the gun into his hip pocket and then returned to the chair as Moe came into the room, followed by Hardy.
'This caper's turned sour,' Moe said and crossing to the cocktail bar, he poured himself a stiff whisky and soda. 'It's on the radio. They even know I knocked off Toey.'
Hardy said huskily, 'You two better get out of here. This is the first place they'll think of to check.'
'Shut up!' Jacko snarled. He looked uneasily at Moe. 'What do we do, baby?'
'If we can get to Key West, we can get a boat,' Moe said, 'but we want money.'
'He's got money,' Jacko said, waving to Hardy. 'How much have you got right here?'
'A hundred and fifty,' Hardy said. 'You can have that.'
Moe sneered at him.
'We'll need five grand. We don't stand a prayer without that kind of money.'
'I haven't got it.'
'You'll find it if you don't want to take the short walk.'
Hardy hesitated, then said, 'I could get it from the bank tomorrow morning.'
Jacko and Moe looked at each other.
'We could stay here for the night,' Jacko said.
Moe nodded.
'Yeah, but it's risky.'
'We've got to take the risk,' Jacko said. To Hardy, he went on, 'You get the dough tomorrow morning . We'll take care of your girlfriend until you get back. You try anything smart and Moe'll slit her.'
Listening, her ear against a door panel, Gina flinched, then she silently turned the key in the lock.
***
Val lay in bed. The moonlight came through the open window and made a square pattern of silver on the carpet.
For the past three hours she had been wrestling with this problem of her husband. What he had said to her during the afternoon had terrified her. She could not believe he had been responsible for this woman's death. This was something she refused to believe. On the floor by her bed lay a mass of newspapers carrying the story of Sue Parnell's murder. She had read everything printed about the murder. On the bedside table lay a writing pad on which she had written the names of the few people connected with the murder and mentioned by the Press.
There was this damning evidence of the blood-stained jacket and the cigarette lighter.
There was this dreadful thing Chris had said: One should never pay blackmail. I'll tell the police I did it, and that will be that. Then he had said: Last night, I dreamed I killed a woman.
Val couldn't bear the darkness any longer and sitting up, her face pale, her hands cold and clammy, she turned on the bedside light.
She thought: He didn't do it! I know he didn't. He must have heard about the murder somehow while he was wandering around. Somehow he must have got it into his head that he killed this woman, but I know he didn't! Chris could never do such a thing! Even with those injuries to his brain, he wouldn't do such a thing! It isn't in his nature to stab a woman the way that woman was stabbed!
Then she again thought of the blood-stained jacket But was it really blood? Was this awful old man getting money out of her by a clever trick? How did she know the stains were from this woman's blood? What to do? She didn't dare go to the police in case. . . She pulled herself together.
She thought: If you really believe Chris didn't do it, then you should go to the police. If you really and truly believe he isn't capable of doing such a terrible thing, then go to Terrell (is that his name?) tell him about this man Hare and let him deal with him.
Then a small, disturbing voice sounded in her mind: But suppose Chris did do it? Just suppose in a moment of mad violence he did kill this woman? Are you going to betray him to the police? Suppose, through you, they were able to prove he did it? Suppose they put him away for life in some awful asylum?
But he didn't do it! Val said, half aloud, her fists clenched, her breath rapid. I know he didn't! This is some trick! I have to find out how this trick was worked! I'm sure it is a trick, but how do I find out? What can I do? She beat her fists together in her agony. I must do something!
Throwing aside the bedclothes, she slid out of bed and began to move restlessly about the room.
It wasn't for nothing that she was the daughter of Charles Travers. She had the same determination, the same fighting spirit as her father. As she moved around the room she became more calm. If she was to help Chris, she must handle this problem herself, she finally decided. Tomorrow, she would pay Hare the money. That would keep him quiet for two weeks. During that time she must somehow try to find out what Chris had been doing while he had lost his memory. If she could find this woman he had met ... this woman who had made him think of elephants (why elephants?) ... she might be able to prove he was nowhere near this Motel where Sue Parnell had died. If she could do that, then Chris would be safe, but how to find this woman?
She was still pacing the floor, thinking, working herself into a more and more determined frame of mind when the moon faded in the lightening sky and the red rim of the sun began its slow ascent.
chapter nine
Max Jacobs watched Val walk into the Florida Banking Corporation. The rime was ten minutes past ten. He had been sitting in his car, waiting patiently since nine o'clock. He lit a cigarette and continued to watch and wait. At half past ten, Val came out of the bank. She was carrying a small brown paper parcel. As she looked up and down the street, Jacobs started the engine. A moment later a taxi drew up at Val's signal and she got into it.
As the cab drew away from the kerb, Jacobs eased his car out of the parking bay and went after it. After a five minute drive, the cab pulled up outside a shabby office block and Val got out.
Jacobs hurriedly parked as Val, paying off the driver, walked into the building. Jacobs risked getting run over as he dodged through the traffic and entered the dark lobby of the building. The elevator was in motion and he started up the stairs, watching the slow crawl of the elevator and seeing it stop on the third floor. He raced to the third floor and arrived, panting. The long corridor with its frosted glass doors was deserted. He leaned against the banister rail, sure that Val had entered one of these offices, and waited.
As Val walked into the outer office of Hare's Investigating Agency, Lucille looked up from her typewriter.
'I have an appointment with Mr. Hare,' Val said quietly.
Lucille recognised her. She got to her feet.
'I think he is ready to see you,' she said. 'Just a moment,' and she went into Homer Hare's office, shutting the door.
Hare was nibbling at a bar of chocolate. Sam Karsh stood by the window, smoking. Both men were slightly tense.
'She's here,' Lucille said.
The two men looked at each other, then Karsh said, 'Are you really going to take her money? Once you take it, we're way out on a limb.'
Hare put the chocolate bar reluctantly into his desk drawer.
'Shoo her in,' he said to Lucille, then to Karsh, 'Run away, Sammy. I'm handling this.'
Karsh hesitated, then shrugging; he went out of the office by the door that led into the corridor.
Lucille said, 'I hope you know what you're doing. I still don't like, it.'
Her father grinned as he wiped his sticky fingers on his handkerchief.
'But you will. Shoo her in.'
Jaco
bs, watching, had just time to step back out of sight around the bend of the corridor as Karsh appeared. He waited. Karsh stood in the corridor, then moving silently, he entered the outer office as Val walked into Hare's office.
Fifteen minutes later, Val came out of the office and crossed to the elevator. Jacobs saw she no longer was carrying the brown paper parcel. He remained where he was until the elevator sank out of sight. Then moving fast, he ran down the stairs, and was in time to see Val leaving the building, walking quickly and heading downtown. He hesitated for a brief moment, then seeing a Drug Store close by, he entered and shut himself in a telephone booth.
A minute later, he was talking to Terrell.
'Mrs. Burnett took the money to Homer Hare's Agency,' he reported. 'She's just left. She was carrying the money done up in a sealed brown paper parcel. She left without it.'
This news startled Terrell.
'Homer Hare?' he exclaimed. 'You're sure she left the money with him?'
'I'm sure,' Jacobs said.
'Okay. Now look, Max, this is important. Get back to the entrance of the office block and stay there. If you see either Hare, Karsh or his wife leave with the money, pick them up. Tell them I want to talk to them. Get tough. Don't let them get rid of the money. Understand?'
'I'll handle it, Chief,' Jacobs said and hung up.
Sam Karsh and Lucille came into Hare's office as he tore open the brown paper parcel. Hare was smiling. The sight of the hundred dollar bills as they spilt over the desk made Karsh whistle.
'Wow! That looks good,' he said and came dose to the desk. 'That looks like real money!'
Hare dug his fingers into the mass of bills, lifted them and let them flutter back on to the desk.
'Sammy ... we're rich! In two weeks’ time, the little lady is going to hand over the rest ... we'll be worth half a million!'
Lucille said, 'Stop acting like a miser! What are we going to do with this right now?'
Hare looked sharply at her.
'What's the matter? You getting an attack of nerves or something?'
'You're goddamn right I'm getting an attack of nerves! Suppose the cops walked in now, how would you explain away this amount of money?'
Hare looked towards Karsh. He smiled his evil smile.
'You married a bright girl, Sammy.' He opened a drawer in his desk and took out a battered briefcase. Quickly he scooped the money into the case, clipped the case shut and then pushed it across the desk towards Karsh. 'Get moving, Sammy. Rent a safe at the Miami Safe Deposit. Use any name that comes to your fertile mind so long as it isn't one of ours and get moving. The quicker this is salted away, the safer it will be for us.'
Karsh shied away from the case.
'Not me! Lucille can take it. Suppose some cop stops me on the street? I'm not all that crazy!'
'Take it!' There was a rasp in Hare's voice. 'If you want your cut, you work for it!'
Karsh eyed the briefcase, then he looked at his wife who stared blankly at him. He got no encouragement from her, and finally, he picked up the case.
'If I walk into trouble,' he said to Hare, 'I'll sing like a lark.'
'Go ahead and sing,' Hare said. 'It'll be the last Prima Donna act you'll ever put on!'
Karsh suddenly grinned.
'Forget it! For a third of half a million, I'd cut my wife's throat.'
'And I believe you,' Lucille said in a flat, hard voice.
Karsh smiled at her.
'Relax, baby. I was just talking, besides, it'd need a hacksaw to saw through your throat.'
Tilting his hat over his right eye, he left the office, swinging the briefcase in his hand.
Jacobs, waiting in the lobby, saw Karsh come out of the elevator. He saw the briefcase in his hand. As Karsh walked briefly out on to the street, Jacobs followed him. Karsh got into the office car and searched his pockets for the ignition key. When he found it, and as he was about to sink the key into the ignition lock, Jacobs opened the offside door and slid into the car beside Karsh.
'Hello, peeper,' he said and smiled at Karsh who lost colour as he recognised Jacobs. 'Headquarters: the Chief wants to talk to you.'
Karsh's eyes went furtively to the briefcase that lay on the seat between the two men.
'I'm busy right now,' he said. 'I'll see him later. What's he want anyway?'
'He didn't tell me,' Jacobs said, lighting a cigarette. 'Headquarters, Karsh, and snap it up!'
'I tell you, I'm busy right now,' Karsh said desperately. 'I'm on a job! Get out of my car! I'll see your Chief in half-an-hour. Go on, copper, beat it!'
'You may not know it,' Jacobs said, his face suddenly like granite, 'but there are some thirty officers, including me, who long to punch you in your left eye. We all think you are the nastiest maggot that crawled out of stinking meat! It would give us all great pleasure to push your horrible eye ball into your horrible brain. I said ... headquarters!'
'You threatening me?' Karsh said, losing colour.
'That's it, Karsh. I'll give you five seconds to get this car moving. At the end of five seconds, you'll get the sweetest slam in the eye any maggot's ever had.'
'I'll fix you,' Karsh said breathlessly. He started the car engine. 'Don't make any mistake about it! I'll have your badge taken away!'
'If you listen hard enough, maggot, you'll hear my knees knocking,' Jacobs said and grinned.
Ten minutes later, Karsh, carrying the briefcase, walked into Terrell's office with Jacobs at his heels.
Terrell looked up from the mass of papers spread out over his desk. Jacobs pointed to the briefcase that Karsh was carrying and nodded his head. This signal went unseen by Karsh as Jacobs was behind him.
'Now listen, Chief,' Karsh said furiously, 'this punk has no right to take me off a job. He threatened me! I'm going to report him...'
Jacobs laced his fingers together, lifted his arms and slammed his hands down on the back of Karsh's neck.
Karsh went down on hands and knees, dropping the briefcase. He thought the ceiling had fallen on him. He remained like that until Jacobs planted a solid kick on the seat of his shiny trousers.
Karsh staggered to his feet and fell, groaning, into the nearest chair.
'You can't hit a man like that,' Terrell said severely, although his eyes were twinkling.
'There was a wasp on his neck, Chief,' Jacobs said, looking sad. 'I didn't want the poor guy to get stung.'
'Is that right?' Terrell said. 'For a moment, I thought you were playing rough with him.'
'Not me, Chief, you know me,' Jacobs said, smiling broadly.
Karsh snarled at him.
'I'll fix you!' he quavered. 'You just wait and see.'
'There's that wasp again,' Terrell said. 'Better kill it, Max. Look, it’s right on top of the poor guy's head.'
As Jacobs, grinning, moved towards Karsh, Karsh scrambled out of the chair and ran across the room, setting his back against the wall.
'Don't touch me!' he yelled frantically. 'Leave me alone!'
Terrell looked at Jacobs, then at the briefcase. Jacobs picked up the case, opened it and poured its contents on to the desk.
At this moment the door opened and Beigler came in. At the sight of the money covering the desk, he paused.
'You been robbing a bank, Chief?' he said. 'That looks a lot of dough to me.'
'It does, doesn't it?' Terrell said. 'Let's see just how much there is here.'
'Don't touch it!' Karsh exclaimed. 'That belongs to Hare! He told me to put it in a safe deposit.'
Then seeing the three men were staring at him, he went on hurriedly, 'It's nothing to do with me! It's Hare's money! I was just ....'
'Shut up!' Beigler snapped. 'You want me to give you a poke in the eye?'
Karsh gulped. He was scared of Beigler. He stood, white and sweating, while Jacobs counted the money.
'Twenty thousand,' he said finally.
Terrell leaned back in his chair and regarded Karsh with cold, forbidding eyes.
'Wh
o gave you this money?'
'I told you ... Hare. He told me to put it in a safe deposit bank. I don't know nothing about it!’
'Yeah? You know Hare hasn't this kind of money. Where did he get it?'
'He didn't tell me. Ask him! Don't ask me!'
'I think the wasp's worrying this punk again,' Jacobs said. 'Okay for me to swat it?'
'Take him away,' Terrell said. 'I don't like seeing insects killed. You might tell the boys that Sammy Karsh is here. They'll want to get rid of the wasp with you ... you mustn't be selfish, Max.'
Grinning Jacobs caught hold of Karsh and locking his arms behind him, he shoved him out of the office. Karsh yelled and struggled, but Jacobs handled him effortlessly. Finally Karsh's yells died away and Terrell looked at Beigler.
'Now what are you going to do?' Beigler said. 'That punk mightn't sing.'
'I'm going to talk to Homer Hare,' Terrell said grimly and reached for the telephone.
***
As Val walked down Main Street, her mind busy, she became aware of hurrying footfalls behind her ... the tap, tap, tap of high heels, and she glanced around. A girl was coming up behind her, and as Val looked around, the girl smiled hopefully.
'Oh, Mrs. Burnett ...'
Val stopped and turned.
The girl was shabbily dressed. She wore a grubby white sweater, a skirt that had an oil stain on the front of it, and her shoes were run down. She was around twenty-three, a badly dyed blonde, unattractive and her complexion was bad.
'Oh, Mrs. Burnett, you don't know me, but of course, I know, you,' the girl said. 'I am Mary Sherrek. I know you have never heard of me, but I'm a representative of the Miami Sun. It's not much of a paper, but I did so hope ...' She paused and looked hopeless at Val in her neat dress, looking with envy at her perfect grooming. 'I don't suppose you want to talk to me but I just had to ... well, I just had to speak to you.'
'That's all right,' Val said. 'What is it?'
'You really mean you don't mind me speaking to you? That's wonderful. You wouldn't give me an interview, would you? I—I — well, I . . .' She stopped and looked uneasily at Val who waited. The girl finally went on, 'About your husband ... he disappeared, didn't he? It would be wonderful for me if you could tell me something about him. You see, I'm not very good at this job and I think they are going to get rid of me. But if I could go back there and give them an exclusive interview with you ... well, it would ... you understand?'
1964 - The Soft Centre Page 12