by Helen Jacey
I felt a sudden and unexpected rush of adrenaline.
The peeled orange was now just a baggy ball of soft, firm flesh. I bit into it. The juice was almost perfumed. It ran down my chin, but I didn’t care. This was better than any drink. Wiping my face, I looked for somewhere with a phone booth.
A coffee shop occupied a corner plot in the market and was still open. I went inside and found the phone booth and called Beatty. Therese said she had gone for the day as one of the puppies looked sick and she and Mr. Falaise were very worried.
In a way, I was relieved I didn’t have to speak to her. Beatty might advise me to stop in my tracks. Making accusations about Hollywood high society figures like Otto Heymann probably wasn’t up her street.
Before I left the booth, I flicked through the phone book. The words were typed clearly enough. Frederick Lyntner, Attorney-at-law. I took a note of the number; I’d call him first thing. It had been a long day, and now I wanted to curl up in the comfort of my cozy wall bed.
Midnight, and something woke me up. A banging on the door. I hadn’t got as far as the bed, I was asleep, fully dressed, on the divan.
Groggy, I moved towards the door and called out. ‘Yes?’
‘Open up,’ Lauder barked. Of course, he was finally here to collect the gun. There was no way he’d forget about that for long.
‘Give me a minute.’
‘Now.’ This time, he growled.
Fucking great.
I kicked Violet’s purse under the divan, out of sight. Just in case he hadn’t cottoned on yet.
Seconds later, I opened the door, and Lauder brushed past me, leaving a whiff of cedar cologne in his wake. He was unrecognizable in a black tuxedo, and a bow tie. It looked expensive, with satin edging. His hair was greased back, and he was closely shaved. I closed the door behind him.
‘Coffee?’ I murmured.
‘No.’
For the first time, he was standing in my lowly room. His eyes cast around it, taking it all in – the bottle of brandy on the low table and a decaying sandwich next to the overflowing ashtray, and the bag of oranges, half of them on the carpet.
I was frankly embarrassed. ‘I didn’t have time to clean up.’ As quickly, I regretted the words.
He pulled out his wallet and pulled out a wedge of dollars. ‘In case you’re running low. Enough for a movie twice a day and a takeout dinner.’ He placed them on the side table.
The pile of notes looked about fifty dollars in five dollar bills. ‘What the hell is this?’
‘What does it look like? For groceries, movies. I don’t give a damn. I’m going away for a little while. Leaving tonight. Any issues, talk to Malvin. He can get hold of Clarence Johnson. You don’t know him. He’s the only person you can contact in case of trouble. You do not call the LAPD. You call nobody else. But you aren’t going to get in any trouble, are you?’
He didn’t know Clarence had already given me his card. But Lauder was going away? A vacation with the deluded uptown fiancée?
‘All right. Business or pleasure?’
‘What?’ He pulled a mind-your-own-business kind of face.
‘Well, if you’re on vacation, try and have a nice time!’ I pulled a smart-alecky smile.
‘Just finish that homework.’ Lauder walked to the door. No mention of the gun. I willed him to get out without remembering. Then another thought shook me. Was he leaving the gun so I could protect myself in his absence?
He turned back to me. ‘Don’t stray too far,’ was his parting shot.
And he was gone. With Lauder out of town, I had a few days to make my move on Fraser, whatever form that would take.
52
I fancied a large and leisurely breakfast at Tina’s to set me up for the day. Fried beans, tomatoes and eggs washed down with coffee. The thought of it propelled me out of bed to shower.
It could be my last meal, after all.
I relished the chance to dress up again. Under Lauder’s regime, these opportunities didn’t come along that often. I picked out a cream dress with black ferns printed all over it, shiny black buttons in the shape of roses and a patent leather belt. I pinned on a black pillbox hat, and a red crepe jacket which matched my scarlet nails and lips.
Tina’s was empty. Sandy, the young waitress, was wiping tables down. She broke into a smiled as I came in.
I wouldn’t mention I’d been in yesterday, and she’d vacated the place the whole time I’d been with Clarence. She probably knew anyway.
I ordered my breakfast. ‘No bacon or sausages. No meat.’
‘Bacon and syrup? Can’t tempt you a little bit, Miss?’
I shook my head.
‘You’re looking real elegant today, Miss. Going someplace nice?’
I did look the part. ‘Downtown. Shopping. Maybe catch a movie.’ The Downtown part was true – at least I hoped it was. ‘That’s nice,’ she said. I couldn’t imagine she gave a damn really.
I made for the phone booth and flicked through the book.
In seconds, I would be doing what Lauder had explicitly banned. Phoning Vice Squad.
I picked up the receiver and asked the operator to put me though.
Lauder was now away, but I wasn’t calling to speak to him.
I was calling for Jim Fraser.
His eyes were bloodshot and completely blank. Absolutely zero recognition. Jim Fraser growled, ‘Said you got something for me?’
He was standing over me.
Fraser wore a lightweight suit with creases from overuse and under-washing, one hand in his pockets. Though he was presumably sober, his face was still blighted by red cheeks, the sign of a permanently angry man.
I was already sitting on a corner table in the coffee shop in Hotel Acacia when he’d wandered in, a fish out of water. I had chosen the hotel because it was another version of the Miracle Mile, full of clean-living career girls. My hope was that he wouldn’t easily remember my face if he was surrounded by other women of similar age. On my way, I’d picked up some spectacles from an optical shop. The man had been surprised when I said I’d take the demonstration pair without prescription lenses. The specs were a heavy, horn-rimmed affair. They quite changed my face.
My strategy was flimsy as hell and relied on the big assumption that Fraser still had no idea Caziel was dead. On the telephone, I’d been suitably vague, telling him I’d got information on a crime he would pay good money for and he had to come alone. I hadn’t given him a name, just said that I’d be wearing glasses.
I looked up and smiled sweetly. ‘Why don’t you sit down? You‘re gonna want to when you hear my news.’
Fraser hesitated, looking me over once again, his eyes roving over my body. I knew the game. He did it to assert power.
‘My name’s Muriel Seldon.’ It was all I could come up with in the drive over here. ‘You don’t remember me, do you? A jerk of a cop nearly had me slung out of Mikey’s but you came to my rescue, and ordered him to go easy on me. So when I got some interesting news you boys would like to know, you came to mind. Thought I could repay your kindness.’
‘Yeah?’ He was warming to me. I’d flattered his ego and he might have a deal on his hands. He sat down opposite me.
‘Turns out we have a mutual friend.’
‘Who?’ He wasn’t expecting this. His piggy eyes narrowed to slits.
‘Elmore Caziel.’
It was like he’d been shot. He reeled back in his seat. His ruddy features turned green and his eyes narrowed.
I twisted the knife. ‘Just so you know, some people are watching your every move, right now. In the coffee shop, in the lobby. You touch me, do anything sudden, one of them is going to walk out and make a call. Something’s going to hit the newspapers that puts you in very hot water.’
The eyes didn’t flinch. What had been interest in me had crystallized into pure hate. I went on. ‘Elmore Caziel is a houseguest of one of my pals. Now, my friend is not exactly what you’d call a good host but he’s very good at mak
ing people talk. Mr. Caziel has a lot to say, about you, and Mr. Arnold Moss, who finds himself detained in the county jail awaiting trial for a murder he didn’t commit. Mr. Caziel has been…given the impression that if he squeals on you, he’s free as a bird. Free to run and hide. His version of events is going to make a very interesting story in tomorrow’s papers. We even promised him anonymity. But you’ll have to explain to your bosses why somebody’s accusing you of peddling smut and framing an innocent man.’
I leant forward. ‘Now, seeing as I want to repay your kindness in taking such good care of me the other day, I’m giving you a chance to avoid all this. Nobody wants to embarrass the hard-working LAPD, do they? You’re going to tell your superiors Arnold Moss is the wrong guy. You will shift the blame to Elmore Caziel. That’s right. You will say that a little bird, maybe one of your C.I.s, told you Caziel dropped the gun in Moss’s car. That Caziel’s gone to ground but you’re looking for him. Hate to break up the friendship with your sleazy pal, but it’s your only choice. Your word against his.’
‘Nobody will believe Caziel’s word in the first fucking place.’ He stood up, but he wasn’t moving.
‘That might be the case. Seems like Caziel believes in insurance. Did you know he had a hidden camera? That’s right. He’s got a snapshot of you, and it doesn’t make a pretty picture. Now sit the fuck back down before my friends get sore.’
‘Fucking bitch.’ But he restrained himself, wary of non-existent eyes on him. Proof he was buying the charade. It was also proof that he did not know that Caziel was dead. He slumped back in his chair, as if he was relaxed.
‘Bitch? Charming. I’m more like your goddamned fairy godmother. You get to free an innocent man and take down that sleazebag Caziel. And not a single one of your colleagues finds out you’re a dirty backstabber. There’s even a cherry on top. As soon as we hear Arnold Moss is a free man, I’ll give you Caziel’s whereabouts. When you arrest him, you get the glory. Nobody will believe him if he tries to drag you down with him. Or you can make other plans for him. Trust me, he won’t be going anywhere until we give him to you. Soon as I hear Moss is free, I’ll leave a message for you here, at the front desk.’
‘Who you working for?’ He growled. Perspiration ran down his wide neck, leaving a snail’s trail.
‘Ain’t your business. Caziel’s scum of the earth. He’s a cop killer.’
But so are you, for framing Moss. Why did you pick on him? He didn’t do a damn thing. Hard-working man with a family to support. Doesn’t that give you sleepless nights? I couldn’t get it out of my mind, but then, I guess everybody’s different. Maybe you’re in the Klan.
I lit a cigarette.
He reached over for his drink, and downed it in one. Avoiding my eyes.
I exhaled into his face. ‘You’ve got a simple choice to make. Your version of events gets out, or Elmore Caziel’s beats you to it.’
53
After the meeting with Jim Fraser, I’d run to the car, whipped off the specs and the hat, and just driven around Downtown aimlessly. I kept on checking the rear mirror in case he was tailing me. For a while, a large black car took the same route as me. I couldn’t make out the driver’s face as the sun was too bright. A few minutes later, the car turned left and was gone.
My nervous imaginings had to be normal. I’d lost an enemy in Caziel but replaced him with a cop. The good news was Fraser was sober enough this time to absorb my ultimatum.
The bad news was that we sat long enough for him to commit every nook and cranny of my face to memory, even with the specs.
My plan would only hold if Fraser didn’t want to chance it, and if nobody discovered Caziel’s body in the meantime. I could safely bet Lauder wouldn’t be telling anybody. And now Lauder was away. But if Fraser knew Caziel had holed up at the warehouse and went back to check, after meeting me, and discovered the body, then my plan would be blown to pieces.
If he bought my charade, Fraser would need to be very convincing to his superiors about the mystery informant’s threat, about the ‘fact’ that Elmore Caziel killed Stan Perrin and framed Arnold Moss. And on top of all this, the prosecutor would have to buy it too, not just his buddies in Murder Squad, to go as far as releasing Moss. Lauder would be shocked by Fraser’s announcement but if he was loyal to Clarence, he wouldn’t challenge it. Clarence would pressure him to look the other way. He might suspect I was behind it, but he wouldn’t tell Lauder. Anyone could see this was perhaps the first and last opportunity to get Arnold Moss out of jail, even if Fraser got off the hook. Lauder would have no choice but to make out he believed Fraser, even if that meant he lost out on ‘true justice’, because Fraser was accessory to Perrin’s murder. The clock was ticking. If Caziel’s body was found, it could all collapse.
I’d done my best, now it was up to the rest of the pieces to fall into place.
I wouldn’t call Clarence. I shouldn’t want his approval, and he would never give it anyway. Even if he was a more decent man than Lauder ever would be.
I could only tell myself I’d tried to put something right.
It was time to handle the lawyer. I found a small parking lot and left the car, quickly making my way to a coffee shop. I rang Frederick Lyntner’s office. An affable male voice answered. I explained I was in need of advice about a project and didn’t want to discuss it over the phone. Lyntner offered to meet me as soon as I could get to him.
It was a tall and shabby building on Duquesne Avenue, built last century. An old art nouveau sign hung on rusting metal. Trenton Towers. Frederick Lyntner’s office was on the fifth floor. On hearing the death rattle of the elevator coming down the shaft from an upper floor, I opted for the stairs. The bannister rail looked like mahogany but was in fact old and unpolished brass, dulled by decades of neglect, and cold to the touch.
Musty air filled my gasping and unfit lungs as I reached the top floor.
A moldy smell dominated in spite of a marbled window opening out onto the street below. I walked down the corridor looking for Lyntner’s office, passing a ticket agent’s office where somebody had scrawled ‘asshole’ in the dusty paint; a musical performers’ agency with a dent in the door that looked like a kick; a tobacco and cigar importer that had no less than three padlocks. Other than the distant growl of traffic and the click-clack of a typewriter, it was still a dusty tower where fledging businesses failed to get off the ground, and older ones curled up and died.
The door of the last office had a small white plaque which stated Frederick Lyntner, Attorney-at-Law, in small, blunt lettering. I rang the bell, coughed, and adjusted my hat.
I would definitely not mention Falaise Investigations, and I wouldn’t be sharing Beatty’s cards with the lawyer. Until I’d got a clearer picture, things didn’t need to lead back to Beatty. I didn’t want Beatty to be embarrassed or put in jeopardy. If Heymann was somehow involved in his daughter’s death, the lawyer might have been bought off already.
Time to tread carefully.
The door opened partially, but jammed instantly as the security chain was on. A pair of large blue eyes twinkled at me beneath blonde bushy eyebrows and the voice was as friendly as it had been on the telephone. ‘Damn, forgot that was on. You the lady who called?’
I gave a polite smile and a nod. So far so good. Affable, and sane.
Lyntner pushed the door shut, unchained it and held it open. I stepped inside a dingy front office. A low lamp gave the only light, as the venetian blinds were fully closed. A couple of leather armchairs sat either side of a coffee table, which was covered by several open legal reference books. Many other tomes lined a metal bookcase, and even more were stacked on top of a row of filing cases. There were several doors, one marked Private.
‘I leave the chain on because the actors’ agencies down the corridor attract a rowdy bunch and occasionally one bursts in. And not for any legal advice, I can say. Crazy kids. Frederick Lyntner. How do you do?’ Lyntner offered me a large, freckled hand. In his late forties, he was
tall and blonde, with a weather-beaten, rugged look. He didn’t look like a lawyer. In this stuffy box, he was a beefcake in a suit. His nose was wide, as if it had taken a beating or two, and one of his ears bulbous. It had to be from boxing or football.
‘Elvira Slate. Maybe having a guy at the front desk would help. No sign of life downstairs.’
Lyntner tutted. ‘Bill’s a hopeless case. He’s probably sleeping. I don’t tend to meet clients here. I go to them. This is my Downtown bolt-hole.’ It was sweet he was embarrassed about his premises. If I took a date back to the Astral, I’d be feeling the same.
Wait! He normally went to his clients. Didn’t Olive say Darlene was coming here to sign the contracts?
I smiled. ‘Thanks for making an exception.’
‘I’m intrigued by your call.’ Lyntner guided me in. ‘Can I get you something to drink? Iced water, coffee?’
I accepted his offer of coffee and sat down on the chair nearest the door.
Lyntner opened the blinds and went into the back office, leaving the door open. I could hear him opening drawers, assembling cups and filling the kettle. I looked around. There were several framed antique prints of racehorses with docked tails on the wall. A photograph of a horse, being led by a jockey, lay on the desk. I called out, ‘You like the ponies?’
‘Yes. Very much. As a matter of fact, I’m starting to breed them. My other life, one that’s waiting in the wings. I’m winding things down here. Moving back to Philly as soon as I can.’
‘Gee, quite a change. Quitting the law?’
‘The rat race loses its charm when you get to a certain age. And this city isn’t home. Most people come here chasing dreams that lead to disillusionment. It’s soulless. How about you? Have I just insulted your hometown?’