It isnt over yet. I have a couple of ideas sticking pins in my brain right now. Some of the pieces are trying to fit together, trying hard. Ive been up too long and been through too much to think straight. I thought that I might relax if I came up here to see you. I grinned at her. You werent any help at all. Youll probably even spoil my dreams.
I hope I do, she said impishly.
Im going someplace and sleep it off, I said. Im going to let the clock go all the way around, then maybe once more before
I stir out of my sack. Then Im going to put all the pieces together and find me a killer. The bastard is strong . . . strong enough to twist a gun around in Wheelers hand and make him blow his brains out. Hes strong enough to take me in my own joint and nearly finish it for me. The next time will be different. Ill be ready and Ill choke the son-of-a-bitch to death.
Will you come back when its over, Mike?
I put on my hat and looked down at her. She looked so damn desirable and agreeable I wanted to stay. I said, Ill be back, Juno. You can dance for me again . . . all by yourself. Ill sit down and watch you dance and you can show me how you have fun on Olympus. Im getting a little tired of being a mortal.
Ill dance for you, Mike. Ill show you things you never saw before. Youll like Olympus. Its different up there and theres nothing like it on this earth. Well have a mountaintop all to ourselves and Ill make you want to stay there forever.
Itd take a good woman to make me stay anywhere very long.
Her tongue flicked out and left her lips glistening wetly, reflecting the desire in her eyes. Her body seemed to move, squirm, so the sheen of the housecoat threw back the lithe contours of her body, vivid in detail. I could, she said.
She was asking me now. Demanding that I come to her for even a moment and rip that damn robe right off her back and see what it was that went to make up the flesh of a goddess. For one second my face must have changed and she thought I was going to do it, because her eyes went wide and I saw her shoulders twitch and this time there was woman-fear behind the desire and she was a mortal for an instant, a female crouching away from the male. But that wasnt what made me stop. My face went the way it did because there was something else again I couldnt understand and it snaked up my back and my hands started to jerk unconsciously with it.
I picked up my butts and winked good night. The look she sent me made my spine crawl again. I walked out and found my car half buried in a drift and drove back to the street of lights where I parked and checked into a hotel for a long winters nap.
Chapter Ten
I slept the sleep of the dead, but the dead werent disturbed by dreams of the living. I slept and I talked, hearing my own voice in the stillness. The voice asked questions, demanded answers that couldnt be given and turned into a spasm of rage. Faces came to me, drifting by in a ghostly procession, laughing with all the fury the dead could command, bringing with their laughter that weird, crazy music that beat and beat and beat, trying to drive my senses to the furthermost part of my brain from which they could never return. My voice shouted for it to stop and was drowned in the sea of laughter. Always those faces. Always that one face with the golden hair, hair so intensely brilliant it was almost white. The voice I tried to scream with was only a hoarse, muted whisper saying, Charlotte, Charlotte . . . Ill kill you again if I have to! Ill kill you again, Charlotte! And the music increased in tempo and volume, pounding and beating and vibrating with such insistence that I began to fall before it. The face with the gold hair laughed anew and urged the music on. Then there was another face, one with hair a raven-black, darker than the darkness of the pit. A face with clean beauty and a strength to face even the dead. It challenged the golden hair and the music, commanding it to stop, to disappear forever. And it did. I heard my voice again saying over and over, Velda, thank God! Velda, Velda, Velda.
I awoke and the room was still. My watch had stopped and no light filtered in under the shade. When I looked out the sky was black, pinpointed with the lights of the stars that reflected themselves from the snow-covered street below.
I picked up the phone and the desk answered. I said, This is Hammer in 541. What time is it?
The clerk paused, then answered, Five minutes to nine, sir.
I said thanks and hung up. The clock had come mighty close to going around twice at that. It didnt take me more than ten minutes to get dressed and checked out. In the restaurant that adjoined the hotel I ate like I was famished, took time for a slow smoke and called Velda. My hand trembled while I waited for her to answer.
I said, Hello, honey, its Mike.
Oh . . . Mike, where have you been? Ive been frantic.
You can relax, girl. Ive been asleep. I checked into a hotel and told them not to disturb me until I woke up. What happened with you and Clyde? Did you learn anything?
She choked back a sob and my hand tightened around the receiver. Clyde was dying right then. Mike . . .
Go on, Velda. I didnt want to hear it but I had to.
He almost . . . did.
I let the phone go and breathed easier. Clyde had a few minutes left to live. Tell me, I said.
He wants me in the worst way, Mike. I--I played a game with him and I was almost sorry for it. If I hadnt gotten him too drunk . . . he would have . . . but I made him wait. He got drunk and he told me . . . bragged to me about his position in life. He said he could run the city and he meant it. He said things that were meant to impress me and I acted impressed. Mike . . . hes blackmailing some of the biggest men in town. Its all got to do with the Bowery Inn.
Do you know what it is?
Not yet, Mike. He thinks . . . Im a perfect partner for him. He said hed tell me all about it if . . . if I . . . oh, Mike, what shall I do? What shall I do? I hate that man . . and I dont know what to do!
The lousy bastard!
Mike . . . he gave me a key to his apartment. Im going up there tonight. Hes going to tell me about it then . . . and make arrangements to take me in with him. He wants me, Mike.
A rat might have been gnawing at my intestines. Shut up! Damn it, you arent going to do anything!
I heard her sob again and I wanted to rip the phone right off the wall. I could barely hear her with the pounding of the blood in my head. I have to go, Mike. Well know for sure then.
No!
Mike . . . please dont try to stop me. It isnt nearly as . . . serious as what youve done. Im not getting shot at . . . Im not giving my life. Im trying to give what I can, just like you . . . because its important. Im going to his apartment at midnight and then well know, Mike. It wont take long after that.
She didnt hear me shout into the phone because she had hung up. There was no stopping her. She knew I might try to, and would be gone before I could reach her.
Midnight. Three hours. Thats all the time I had.
It wasnt so funny any more.
I felt in my pocket for another nickel and dialed Pats number. He wasnt home so I tried the office and got him. I told him it was me without giving my name and he cut me off with a curt hello and said hed be in the usual bar in ten minutes if I wanted to see him. The receiver clicked in my ear as he hung up. I stood there and looked at the phone stupidly.
The usual bar was a little place downtown where I had met him several times in the past and I went there now. I double-parked and slid out in front of the place to look in the windows, then I heard, Mike . . . Mike!
I turned around and Pat was waving me into my car and I ran back and got in under the wheel. What the hells going on with you, Pat?
Keep quiet and get away from here. I think theres been an ear on my phone and I may have been followed.
The D.A.s boys?
Yeah, and theyre within their rights. I stopped being a cop when I lie
d for you. I deserve any kind of an investigation they want to give me.
But why all the secrecy?
Pat looked at me quickly, then away. Youre wanted for murder. Theres a warrant out for your arrest. The D.A. has found himself another witness to replace the couple he lost.
Who?
A local character from Glenwood. He picked you out of the picture file and definitely established that you were there that night. He sells tickets at the arena as a sideline.
Which puts you in a rosy red light, I said. Pat muttered, Yeah. I must look great.
We drove on around the block and on to Broadway. Where to? I asked.
Over to the Brooklyn Bridge. A girl pulled the Dutch act and I have to check it myself. Orders from the D.A. through higher headquarters. Hes trying to make my life miserable by pulling me out on everything that has a morgue tag attached to it. The crumb hopes I slip up somewhere and when I do Ive had it. Maybe Ive had it already. Hes checked my movements the night I was supposed to have been with you and is getting ready to pull out the stops.
Maybe well be cellmates, I said.
Ah, pipe down.
Or you can work in my grocery store . . . while Im serving time, that is.
I said, shut up. Whatve you got to be cheerful about?
My teeth were clamped together, but I could still grin. Plenty, kid. I got plenty to be cheerful about. Soon a killer will be killed. I can feel it coming.
Pat sat there staring straight ahead. He sat that way until we reached the cutoff under the bridge and pulled over to the curb. There was a squad car and an ambulance at the wharf side and another squad car pulling up when Pat got out. He told me to sit in the car and stay there until he got out. I promised him Id be a good boy and watched him cross the street.
He took too long. I began to fidget with the wheel and chain-smoked through my pack of butts. When I was on the last one I got out myself and headed toward the saloon on the corner. It was a hell of a dive, typically waterfront and reeking with all the assorted odors you could think of. I put a quarter in the cigarette machine, grabbed my fresh deck and ordered a beer at the bar. Two guys came in and started talking about the suicide across the street.
One was on the subject of her legs and the other took it up. Then they started on the other parts of her anatomy until the bartender said, Jeez, cut it out, will ya! Like a couple ghouls ya sound. Can the crap.
The guy who liked the legs fought for his rights supported by the other one and the bartender threw them both out and put their change in his pockets. He turned to me and said, Ever see anythin like that? Jeez, the dames dead, what do they want of her now? What ghouls!
I nodded agreement and finished my beer. Every two minutes Id check my watch and find it two minutes later and start cursing a slimy little bastard named Clyde.
Then the beer would taste flat.
I took it as long as I could and got the hell out of the saloon and crossed the street to see what was taking Pat so long. There was a handful of people grouped around the body and the ambulance was gone. The car from the morgue had taken its place. Pat was bending over the body looking for identification without any success and had the light flashed on her face.
He handed one of the cops a note he fished out of her pocket and the cop scowled. He read, He left me. He scowled some more and Pat looked up at him. Thats all, Captain. No signature, no name. Thats all it says.
Pat scowled too and I looked at her face again.
The boys from the morgue wagon moved in and hoisted the body into a basket. Pat told them to put it in the unidentified file until they found out who she was.
I had a last look at her face.
When the wagon pulled away the crowd started to break up and I wandered off into the shadows that lined the street. The face, the face. Pale white to the point of transparency, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. I stood there leaning up against a plank wall staring at the night, hearing the cars and the trolley rattle across the bridge, hearing the cacophony of noises that go to make up the voice of the city.
I kept thinking of that face.
A taxi screamed past and slid to a stop at the comer. I backed up and a short fat figure speaking a guttural English shoved some bills in the drivers hand and ran to the squad cars. He spoke to the cop, his arms gesticulating wildly; the cop took him to Pat and he went through the same thing again.
The crowd that had turned away turned back again and I went with them, hanging on the outside, yet close enough so I could hear the little fat man. Pat stopped him, made him start over, telling him to calm himself down first.
The fat man nodded and took the cigarette that was offered him but didnt put it in his mouth. The boat captain I am, you see? He said. The barges I am captain of. We go by two hours ago under the bridge and it is so quiet and peaceful then I sit on the deckhouse and watch the sky. Always I look up at the bridge when I go by. With my night glasses I look up to see the automobiles and marvel at such things as we have in this country.
I see her then, you understand? She is standing there fighting and I hear her scream even. She fights this man who holds his hand over her mouth and she cant scream. I see all this, you understand, yet I am not able to move or do a thing. On the barge we have nothing but the megaphone to call with. It happens so fast. He lifts her up and over and she goes into the river. First I thought she hit the last barge on the string and I run and shout quickly but it is not so. I must wait so long until I can get somebody to take me off the barge, then I call the police.
The policeman, he told me here to come. You were here. The girl has already been found. That is what I have come to tell you. You understand?
Pat said, I understand all right. You saw this man she fought? The guy bobbed his head vigorously.
Could you identify him?
Everyones eyes were on the little guy. He lifted his hands out and shrugged. I could tell him from someone else . . . no. He had on a hat, a coat. He lifted this girl up and over she goes. No, I do not see his face for I am too excited. Even through the night glasses I could not see all that so well.
Pat turned to the cop next to him. Take his name and address. Well need a statement on it.
The cop whipped out a pad and began taking it down. Pat prompted him with questions until the whole thing was straight then dismissed the batch of them and started asking around for other witnesses. The motley group hanging around watching didnt feel like having any personal dealings with the police department for any reason at all and broke up in a hurry. Pat got that grim look, muttered something nasty and started across the street to where I was supposed to be.
I angled over and met him. Nice corpse, I said.
I thought I told you to stay in the car. Those cops have you on their list.
So what. Im on a lot of lists these days. What about the girl?
Unidentified. Probably a lovers quarrel. She had a couple of broken ribs and a broken neck. She was dead before she hit the water.
And the note . . . did the lover stuff that in her pocket before he threw her overboard?
You have big ears. Yes, thats what it looks like. They probably argued previously, he invited her for a walk, then gave it to her.
Strong guy to mess her up like that, no?
Pat nodded. I opened the door and he got in, sliding over so I could get behind the wheel. He had to be to break her ribs.
Very strong, I mused. Im not a weak sister myself and I know what its like to come up against one of those strong bastards. I sat there and watched him.
A look of incredulity came over his face. Now wait a minute. Were on two different subjects, feller. Dont try to tell me that he was the same . . .
Know who she was, Pat?
I told you she was unidentified at present. She had no handbag but well trace
her from her clothes.
That takes time.
Know a better way?
Yeah, I said. As a matter of fact I do. I reached behind the seat and dragged out an envelope. It was crammed with pictures and I dumped them into my lap. Pat reached up and turned on the overhead light. I shuffled through them and brought out the one I was looking for.
Pat looked a little sick. He glanced at me then back to the picture. Her name is Jean Trotter, Pat. Shes a model at Anton Lipseks agency. Several days ago she eloped.
I thought hed never stop swearing. He fanned out the pictures in his hand and squinted at them with eyes that blazed hot as the fires of hell. Pictures. Pictures. Goddamn it, Mike, what are we up against? Do you know what that burned stuff was that you found in Emil Perrys house?
I shook my head.
Pictures! he exploded. A whole mess of burned photographs that didnt show a thing!
The steering wheel started to bend under my fingers. I jammed my foot on the starter and roared away from the curb. Pat looked at the picture again in the light of the dash. His breath was coming fast. We can make it official now. Ill get the whole department on it if I have to. Give me a week and well have that guy ready to face a murder trial.
I glowered back at him. Week hell, all we have is a couple of hours. Did you trace that piece of fabric I gave you?
Sure, we traced it all right. We found the store it came from . . . over a year ago. It was from a damn good suit the owner remembered selling, but the guy had no recollection for faces. It was a cash transaction and he didnt have a record of the size or any names or addresses. Our killer is one smart Joe.
Hell trip up. They all do.
I cut in and out of traffic, my foot heavy on the accelerator. On the main drag I was lucky enough to make the lights and didnt have to stop until I was in front of the Municipal Building. I said, Pat, use your badge and check the marriage bureau for Jean Trotters certificate. Find out who she eloped with and where she was married. Since I cant show my nose youll have to do this on your own.
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