Murder Doll

by Milton Ozaki

  Morrie moaned and protested—but he came.

  “Gerrie, this is Morrie Tannenbaum, the famous criminal lawyer. Morrie, Gerrie Spinosa, my new, and very capable, assistant.”

  While they murmured acknowledgment of the introduction, I called the Hudson and asked for McCabe. He said, “She left here a couple minutes ago and the gun ain't in her room any more. Those pictures are all torn up.”

  “Thanks, Gus. I'll stop by and see you later today.”

  The phone rang a second after I hung up. Murray's voice said, “The call went through like you figured.”

  “Fine,” I told him. “Follow through, will you?”

  “Sure,” he said. The line went dead.

  I turned to Morrie and tapped the brief case, which was laving on the desk in front of me. “This is it, Morrie. How much does the Pisano gang offer?”

  “How much has Bain?” Morrie asked.

  “I haven't heard from him yet, but I ought to in a few minutes. They're probably having trouble reaching him.”

  “How about fifty grand?” Morrie suggested. “That's ten percent.”

  “I'll take it under consideration.”

  The door opened and Alice looked in. “Am I intruding?” she asked.

  “Don't be silly,” I told her. “Alice, this is Morrie Tannenbaum, the lawyer, and Gerrie Spinosa, my assistant. Morrie and Gerrie, meet Alice Good, my wife.”

  Morrie jumped as though I'd jabbed him with a needle. “Your wife!”

  Gerrie looked surprised, but she smiled and said, “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Good.”

  “We were married last night,” I explained to Morrie. “That's why I want a slice of this dough. Alice and I haven't had our honeymoon yet and she wants to raise a lot of kids. How about fifteen percent? Will the boys hold still for that?”

  “I doubt it, Carl.”

  “Hell, ethically the dough belongs to Bain, Morrie. I'm offering it to you on a silver platter, just to satisfy my conscience. I'd give it to you for nix if Pisano and his boys hadn't chased me around the other night.”

  “Perhaps you have a point,” Morrie admitted. “Will you accept fifteen percent?”

  “Unless Bain makes a better offer.”

  The phone rang again. Murray's voice said, “We just picked up a couple hoods out in front. How are you doing?” He sounded good.

  “I'm pretty busy right now,” I told him.

  “Right. Two of the boys keeping an eye on your office.”

  I hung up and looked at my watch. “I should have heard from Bain by now,” I said, frowning. “There weren't any calls while I was out, Gerrie?”

  “No, Mr. Good.” She looked at her watch too.

  “Well, I'll give them another fifteen minutes. If they don't make me an offer by then, the dough is yours, Morrie, and I'll take fifteen percent.”

  Alice went to the window and stood looking down at the river. Morrie slumped in his chair and closed his eyes. Gerrie bit her lips and fiddled with her purse.

  I looked at my watch. The fifteen minutes were almost up.

  I waited until the last second, then said, “Well, to hell with them. The dough is yours, Morrie.” I took the key of the brief case from my pocket, fitted it into the lock, and twisted it. I shook the packages of currency and securities onto my desk. “I'll take my seventy-five grand in currency. Okay?”

  “Wait,” Gerrie said. Her voice was cool and incisive. “Put it back in the brief case, Mr. Good.”

  As one, the three of us looked at her. There was a small, black automatic in her right hand.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I didn't move. “Now, now, Gerrie,” I said easily, “if you're representing Dippy, all you have to do is make me a better offer than Morrie did and the dough's yours.”

  She moved the gun in a small arc which began with Morrie and ended with Alice. “Why should I make you an offer? It's Dippy's money—and I'm taking it back to him.”

  Alice's mouth dropped open and she stared at Gerrie. “Carl!” she exclaimed. “Why, she's the one who always called me! I recognize her voice!”

  “Sure,” I said, “she's your ex-boss, the girl Dippy Bain had to get out of Philadelphia.”

  “I suppose you knew it all the time,” Gerrie said sarcastically.

  “No, but I've known it for sure for a couple hours,” I told her. “I found a picture of you among a lot of others at Bannister's studio. He'd discarded it because it was a poor print. Because it was a poor print, it made you look older and it showed the resemblance between you and your mother.” I looked at Alice and explained, “Shirley, the old gal out at Solar Park, is her mother. That's why they use the place, probably.”

  “Wise guy,” Gerrie commented. She gestured with the gun. “Put the dough in the brief case, Good. I'm not kidding.”

  “I should have tumbled to you a couple days ago,” I said, ignoring her order, “when you told me about going to The Golden Spoon and quitting your job. Hell, Bennie Fidulla didn't hire you and wouldn't have had anything to do with paying you off. The cigarette girl racket is like the hat-check racket: It's a concession, operated and paid for on a percentage basis, by an outside organization which controls its own personnel. It was a smart way for you to operate because it gave you the run of the clubs and you could talk to the employees and nose around without becoming suspect,”

  “I'll shoot if you don't obey,” she warned.

  “You're going to shoot anyway,” I told her, “so why should I help you? You know damned well you wouldn't let any of us out of here alive now that we know who you are.” She didn't look too happy.

  Morrie made a gurgling noise in his throat and I heard Alice suck in her breath.

  “Three more murders shouldn't bother you,” I went on, “after all the others you've ordered. I wonder what happened to the guys you told to come here?”

  Her dark eyes narrowed. “What guys?”

  “You know, the ones you phoned while I was out. The cops had a tap on the wire, at my request. Incidentally, I wasn't talking to any of Bain's boys when you came in. The girl on the other end was reading the weather report over and over. Couldn't even hear me, in fact.” I grinned.

  The gun wavered for a moment, then steadied. “You're lying,” she snapped. “You weren't that smart. I'm going to count to three, and then—” Her lips tightened.

  “Oh, all right,” I said with a defeated sigh. I sat up and slowly began poking the packets of money into the brief case. Morrie moaned again and Gerrie stepped closer so she could watch each movement I made. I said a silent prayer, put the last of the currency in, and reached for a bundle of securities.

  Three sharp explosions rent the air suddenly. An expression of surprise flashed across Gerrie's face, then she clutched at her breast. The gun dropped out of her hand. Morrie, with a startled exclamation, scrambled out of his chair and reached for it. Alice was standing by the window, looking at the small nickeled automatic in her hand. Her lips moved but no sound came out.

  “My God, Alice,” I cried with relief, “I thought you were never going to get the idea!”

  “For Pete's sake, Good,” Murray shouted angrily, “why the hell did you let her shoot her? I told you my men were outside!”

  “Look, lieutenant, the lady is my wife. I had to give Tier a chance to wipe the slate clean, didn't J? By shooting Gerrie Spinosa, she made it definite, once and for all, that's she's on our side and not Dippy Bain's. I knew she had the gun and I deliberately stalled things so she'd have time to think things over and decide what she wanted to do. The human eye can only cover an arc of about ninety degrees without shifting and, when I figured Alice had had enough time to make up her mind, I started putting the dough into the brief case because I knew Gerrie would suspect a trick and would be concentrating on my hands and the dough. It's natural for a woman to fight for the man she loves. Gerrie was fighting Bain's battle—and Alice fought mine.”

  “Well, all I've got to say is that it's a damned good thing for you tha
t she didn't shoot her in the head,” Murray growled. “She lived long enough to implicate Bain and put the finger on the hoods who did the murdering for her. The only one she couldn't explain was DeGruchy.”

  “How about the murder of Pisano and his boys?”

  “Hell, I'm not worrying about them,” Murray grunted. “That happened outside my district. DeGruchy is another matter. It's too bad I can't lump him in with the others.” He scowled at me. “You know, I still got a sneaking suspicion that you—”

  “Forget it, Murray,” I advised. “I've been instrumental in breaking up two mobs for you. What do you want—egg in your beer?”

  “I still can't see how a young girl like Gerrie Spinosa got in with such a bunch of rats and planned things so smartlike.” He shook his head. “When she called me this morning and told me about you going to Bannister's and being in danger, I thought sure as hell she was sweet on you.”

  “Hell, it was all an act to worm her way into my confidence. She'd have called Bannister, instead of you, and told him to kill me, if she'd known where I'd cached the dough. That's the only thing which saved me.”

  “Guess you're right.” He shook his head. “She sure did sound like a nice young kid, though.”

  Alice had her hand under my arm and we were walking north on Rush Street. “Carl—?” She pressed my arm gently.

  “Huh?”

  “Is Morrie really going to give you fifteen percent of all that money?”

  “He may try to chisel me down a little, but he's a pretty square guy. Some of it will go to the cops, of course, and he'll have to pay off here and there in order to keep everybody happy, but he'll do the right thing by me. Why?”

  “I was thinking that it'd be nice to have a house somewhere—a big white one, with a porch, and a lawn, and—”

  “Just like a woman,” I grumbled, “spending my money already!”

  I stopped at a newsstand and bought a copy of Art Photography.

  “What in the world do you want with that?” she asked, raising her eyebrows sharply.

  “It's for Gus McCabe, the house dick at the Hudson,” I explained, laughing. “He's sore because you tore up those pictures before he could swipe one for his office.”

  “Oh.” Her eyebrows slid back where they belonged. “I thought you wanted to look at them.”

  “Me?” I grinned down at her. “Hell, honey, I haven't even seen enough of you yet. Let's hurry home, huh?”

  “Let's!”

  We did.

  THE END