by Kane, Henry
I resisted like a madman.
I packed the green stuff in a disordered package and I tore out of the office and tore into a cab. I said Police Headquarters and when I got there I said Sergeant Falkner, and, wouldn’t you know it, he wasn’t there. And the young cop who talked to me was a young cop whom I did not know.
“Look,” I said. “You work with the Sergeant?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You know he’s working on that Jonathan Hart thing?”
“Jonathan Hart?”
“The guy that got killed.”
“Jonathan Hart did not get killed, sir. Jonathan Hart died of a heart attack.”
“Sure,” I said. “What’s your name?”
“Perkowski.”
“I’m Peter Chambers.”
“Never heard of you.”
“That makes us even.”
“Now just what is it you wish, sir?”
“I’m a friend of Sergeant Falkner’s.”
“So?”
“I’m working with him on that Hart thing.”
“You from the F.B.I.?”
“I’m from nowhere. I’m working with the Sergeant on Hart, period. Now, you see this package?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It contains valuable evidence. I want you to place it in a safe, a fire-proof, burglar-proof——”
“Burglar-proof! Are you kidding! This is Police Headquarters, mister.”
“I don’t give a frig what it is, pal. Put that package where it’s fire-proof and burglar-proof, and you’re responsible, Mr. Perkowski. When the Sergeant comes, tell him Peter Chambers brought it, and that it’s on the Hart matter. Tell him he’s not going to be able to get in touch with me for a time, because I’m tired and I want to rest and I’ve got a big evening in front of me. Tell him all of that, huh? And tell him I’ll see him around.”
I shoved the package at him and lit out like curfew at an army camp. I went home, collected my pirate’s costume, and left home. I checked in at the Ambassador, from where I called Carey’s Car Service and made arrangements for a car to pick me up at seven-thirty for the trip to Riverdale. I clicked off and clicked on again for a call to the office. I told my secretary that I had just died and that that was the message for anyone who called me. Then I stripped down and sat in a warm tub. I fought off thinking like the life-guard in the Cats-kills has to fight off non-weekend wives. I sat and stewed. I got out, called down for a barber, and had a shave, a haircut, a shampoo and a massage. Then I doffed my shorts and undershirt, slid naked into the cool bed, called down to the operator to waken me at seven o’clock, turned on my side, pulled up my knees, and went to sleep.
And nary a nightmare.
18
They were already piling into Robby’s when I got there. They were gay, festive, loud, drunkie, and wonderfully costumed. I dismissed my car and followed a group into a large downstairs ballroom with a smooth polished floor on bottom and an immense chandelier on top. There was a twenty-piece band off to one side, and on the other side, there was a long bar backed by eight bartenders. The musicians were dressed as gypsies, the bartenders as Alpine climbers, and the butlers (dear cruel Robby) clanked about in knights’ armor complete with headgear and visors. One of the butlers clanked up to me.
“Pardon,” he said. “Sir Pirate.”
“What ho, Sir Knight?”
“Mr. Tamville would like to see you, sir.”
“Where away?”
“That door, sir.” He pointed with his gauntlet. “To the right of the stairway.”
“Thank you,” I said.
The stairway was of marble, majestically curling to the upper stories. The door to the right was heavy and wood-paneled. The knob gleamed like gold, and I was certain that it was. I went in and for a moment I couldn’t find Robby, the room was that big. It was exquisitely furnished in intricate Louis XIV. There was a red rug that was thicker than a Hungarian accent, and the ceiling was all carved shining wood. There were wide French doors on the far side, opening upon a spacious garden. Beyond, the swimming pool was visible, and you could see the still water placidly reflecting the light of the moon.
I moved about, uncomfortably, and then Robby came out from behind a big chair, and he was the only man at his party not attired in costume, unless you term white tie and tails a costume.
“Time you got here,” he said.
“I was a little delayed. Heavy traffic.”
“See the clown?”
“Not yet.”
“See the Persian prince?”
“Not yet.”
“Want to see the ring?”
“If you want to show it to me.”
He sniffed, went to a mantel, took off a small box, opened it and showed me its contents. A ring was stuck in a white satin base. It was a ring, period. The stone was peculiar, large, with a wonderful iridescence. It had a glow like a schoolgirl who had hoisted too many Martinis, and it had luminous red veins like the eyes of the self-same schoolgirl after a few more Martinis. But to me it was a ring, period. It didn’t mean a thing to me.
“Like it?” he said.
“I can take it or leave it.” I shrugged.
“Real enthusiastic, aren’t you?”
“Yep. That’s me. Am I supposed to be enthusiastic too? For the same fee? I’ll tell you a secret. I’m not even enthusiastic about you.”
“Cordial,” he said. “You’re a real lovable type.”
“You and me, both, Mr. Tamville. Now what do I do? Stay here and play nursemaid to that thing?”
“No. I’m staying here. And, frankly, I don’t think I can stand too much of your company.”
“Mutual, Mr. Tamville. But it’s your fee, so you’re the boss. What do I do?”
“Go out. Mingle. Have fun. But keep your eyes and ears open, and remember why you’re here. We’ll get together later.”
I went out, I mingled, I had fun.
The guests were really packed in now and they were living it up like there was no tomorrow. There were perhaps a hundred people—very few sober—about fifty men and fifty women and dear old Robby had done himself proud. All the women were practically nude, and all the men were fully dressed. There was Lady Eve, Lady Godiva, a mermaid, a jungle-lady, a nymph, an angel, and on and on and on and on … but none of the ladies were burdened with many clothes. Everybody drank, everybody danced (close and cozy) and everybody sat around in corners and necked.
Our Lady Eve was a sumptuous sight in fig leaf, gold breastplates (in the shape of tiny leaves), and nothing much else. I danced with her and she did not know with whom she was dancing—I was a masked pirate, period. She was good to hold, and good to touch, but over her shoulder, I suddenly saw the Persian prince, and what he was dancing with made me lose all interest in Adam’s Wife. He was dancing with a devil who, strangely enough, was fully dressed, and who, strangely enough, was more naked than any of them. She was sheathed within a red silk costume, from toes to neck—shimmering red—so close to her body it seemed part of her skin, and the shape of that perfect body was enough to wrap you in fire and wish for a berth in hell with that devil. She had long long slender legs coming up from dainty ankles, a long curve of full thigh, a flat stomach in front, wondrous mounds in the rear, a tiny waist, and a delightful topside, pert, parted and pear-shaped, and all of that in red red, shining red. I had not found my clown yet, but there was my Persian prince, big as life and in the clutch of the devil.
I was determined to rescue him.
When the music stopped, Lady Eve gravitated to the Persian prince, and your humble pirate gravitated with her, and the four of us gravitated to the bar. We all had a drink and I raised my glass to the devil, wondering like all hell what was behind her red mask (everybody was masked). She clinked her glass to mine, and then I clinked with the Persian prince and I said, “Having fun, Mr. Blattner?”
“Yes,” he said. “Who’re you?”
“Peter Chambers.”
“Oh! How are you?
”
“Swell. Won’t you introduce me to the ladies?”
“Of course,” he said. “The devil is Patricia Hill. Lady Eve is Jessica Rollins. Peter Chambers, ladies.”
I shook hands with both of them. “I hope you’ve forgiven my childishness back there at the office,” I said to Jessica Rollins.
“Haven’t even thought of it,” she said.
The music started again.
“Let’s dance,” Jessica said to Blattner.
“Love to,” Blattner said.
They went off and it couldn’t have been better for me.
“Peter Chambers,” the devil said. “Let’s dance. Or let’s talk. Or … let’s do both.”
She had a soft cultured voice, so different from the rough-edged Sunny, and so different from the phony forced smoothness of Jessica. When she talked, she smiled a good deal, and her white teeth gleamed beneath her red mask. I hung on to her, and, praise be, she didn’t seem to want to go away. We drank, we danced, we chatted, we chortled. I kept my eyes peeled for the clown, but there was no clown. The Persian prince was very much in evidence, making time with most of the gals, and, The Lady Eve, although pursued by a host of costumed wolves, constantly trailed him. It seemed to be that sort of an affair.
Finally, I waltzed my devil off to a corner. “Pat,” I said, “I’m really having a good time tonight.”
“That so unusual?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you ever have fun? I mean, mostly.”
“No. Not mostly. Rather, rarely.”
“Why?” she said seriously.
“Perhaps I’m a sad one by nature. Perhaps I’m a cynic or something. Perhaps I’ve lived it up a little too much and a little too fast. Perhaps I’m in a business where I’ve seen too much of the wrong side of people. Perhaps,” I said, “I’m sick.”
“Sick?” she said. “I’m the doctor.”
“You’re the doctor, all right.”
“No, I mean that.”
“Literally?” I said.
“That’s right.”
“You mean you’re really a doctor?”
“That’s what I mean.”
“Sister, I’ve never seen a doctor that looks like you.”
“Would you like to see the rest of me?”
“Any way you mean that—yes.”
“I mean let’s take our masks off. I’m quite curious about you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. I took off my mask and she followed suit and the old buccaneer had hit the treasure chest. The word is wow! She had been wearing a little red cap which was attached to the mask and that came off too. Wow is the word! Her hair was thick, black and curly, and her light blue eyes were ringed within long black lashes. She had a tiny nose, high cheekbones, dimples and, right now, she wore a tiny smile that just verged upon being wicked.
“Like?” she said, cocking her head a trifle.
“Doctor,” I said, “I love.”
“Me too,” she said. “And perhaps a trifle jealous.”
“Jealous? I don’t get it.”
“You’ve sort of stolen the thunder out of one of my strong points.”
“Sister, you’ve got enough strong points to be completely impregnable.”
“I don’t know how to take that?”
“Take it good, doctor. It’s meant good. Now, what strong point?”
“Your eyes. Light blue with black lashes.”
“Thanks. There are people call them crazy.”
“Yes, I can see that. A little wild. But completely fascinating.”
“Honey, I’m happy I came to this party.” I put my mask back on and she did too. “Kidding aside,” I said. “Are you really a doctor?”
“Kidding aside,” she said. “I am. Specialize in fluoroscopy and X-ray. Further vital statistics—I’m over twenty-one and unmarried.” She looked about. “Which one is your girl, Peter?” “I didn’t bring a girl.” Now I looked about. “Which one’s your fella?”
“I didn’t bring a fella,” she said. “I was supposed to, though. Nice guy, patient of mine. I lent him my car for the day, and he cracked it up on Long Island. Nothing serious, but it left me without a car and without an escort.”
“How’d you come up?”
“Oh, I called Mr. Tamville, told him my sad story, and he arranged to have a couple of people pick me up and drive me. Mr. Blattner and Miss Rollins: the Persian prince and Lady Eve.”
“This the first time you met them?”
“That’s right. Seem quite nice. In fact, I’ve invited them over to my place for a nightcap, after we break up here.”
“Where’s your place, doctor?”
“441 Park Avenue. I combine my office and my apartment. I do wish you’d join us, Peter.”
My luck.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’d love to, but I’m here somewhat on business.”
“Business? What is your business?”
“I’m a private detective.”
“Private detective,” she said. “How very interesting.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Interesting. Anyway, I’m supposed to accompany a guy back to town. Fact is, I hired a car to take me up here, and sent it back to town, since I’m probably going back with the guy I’m supposed to go back with. Sounds real complicated, doesn’t it?”
“Not really.”
“Only thing is—I haven’t seen the guy yet.” I took a long look around. No clown.
“Maybe he won’t come,” she said.
“I hope he doesn’t. And if he doesn’t, I’m accepting your invitation right now. And if he doesn’t actually need me to go back to town with him—I mean if it doesn’t work out that way—I’m also accepting your invitation.”
Blattner and Jessica joined us and we chatted. Blattner removed his mask and wiped his face with a handkerchief. He was a handsome lad, all right.
“Mr. Blattner,” I said. “Have you been in to see Tamville yet?”
“No, not yet.” He re-adjusted the mask on his face. “I asked one of the knights to go in and inquire. He came back and said that Mr. Tamville would call me when he wanted me.”
“He hasn’t been out here all night,” I said. “And I don’t think he’s coming out,” Jessica said. “He’s having one of his sulks, I think. Gave strict orders. I’m informed by one of the knights, that nobody’s to go in there unless they’re invited. Let’s dance, Timothy.”
Blattner took her to dance and I took the devil to the bar. It was crowded there, and a tall skinny joker in the toga of a Roman Senator was jostling me pretty hard. That crowded it wasn’t.
“Lay off, Mac,” I said. “Give me a little room to breathe.”
“Maybe I’m not giving you room,” he said, “but I’ve certainly given you plenty of rope. Where the hell have you been all day?”
It was Detective-sergeant Ernest Falkner.
“Watch the language,” I said, “Sergeant. You’re in the presence of the devil.”
He took a long look, and looked again. “Sorry,” he said, “beautiful lady.” He bowed. “May I kidnap your pirate for a few minutes?”
“If you promise not to keep him too long.”
“I promise,” he said and took my arm and steered me to a quiet place and there he said: “Where in hell did you get nine hundred thousand dollars?”
“I stole it.”
“I’m serious, Peter.”
“So am I, Sergeant.”
“Why’d you bring it to Headquarters?”
“For safe-keeping. Is there a better place?”
“Now, Peter—”
“We’ll come to that, Sergeant. Everything in good time. You didn’t happen, by chance, to bring that fingerprint report with you?”
“I did. I promised you it would be delivered to you here.”
“But you didn’t mention that you’d deliver it personally.”
“That’s right,” he said. “I didn’t mention that.”
“You didn’t come her
e just to deliver that report to me?”
“That’s right,” he said. “I didn’t.”
“Then what the devil are you doing here?”
He smiled. “Tamville,” he said. “Talked with the Commissioner, specifically requested me. I’m supposed to protect that ruby job, or opal job, or whatever the hell it is. I’ve got a detail of six men here, all dressed in the looniest of costumes.”
“Works all the angles, doesn’t he? I’m here for the same purpose.”
“I figured.”
“How goes the Hart thing?” I said.
“Way up in the air. Talked to the wife, talked to Johnson, talked to Finch, talked to everybody. It’s way up in the air.”
I kept looking past him.
“What the devil are you looking for?” he said irritably.
“A guy supposed to come as a clown. Client.”
“George Benson?”
“How do you know?”
“I know from Tamville. Benson’s the clown, Blattner the Persian prince, and those two are the only ones that know that that ruby or opal is out of the safe—outside of you and me and Tamville. Now about that nine hundred thousand dollars …”
“Where’s my report, Sergeant?” He reached in under his toga and brought out an envelope. “Sealed and unlooked at,” he said. “Just as I promised.”
“Thanks, Mr. Falkner.” I took it and folded it and put it in my pocket.
Falkner nudged me.
“Look,” he said. I looked. The Persian prince was being escorted by a knight in armor to Tamville’s door. The knight held the door open and the Persian prince passed through. The knight remained outside the door and Falkner and I kept our eyes on him and on the door.
“Where in all hell’s my clown?” I said.
“Did you look upstairs?” Falkner asked.
“No. Has he got guests up there too?”
“Some of them are lounging about up there.”
“Were you there?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see my clown?”
“I wasn’t looking for your clown.”
“Did you see him?”
“No.”
Patricia Hill came to us and we subsided to small talk albeit strained small talk. Then the Persian prince came out and got lost in the crowd.
“Would you like to dance?” I asked Patricia.