She seemed quite upset at the idea.
“It’s a possibility, but no more than that. And you can’t think of anything Brookman said that might give me a lead?”
“I doubt it. I’ve been thinking awfully hard after what you said, but mostly he just talked nonsense. I think he was unbalanced you know.”
“Really? Why?”
She made a face.
“Well, you would hardly call our—I was going to say relationship—our connection, you’d hardly call it social. It was a straightforward question of handing over money. And yet he insisted on talking a lot, all about himself, and all nonsense.”
“What kind of nonsense?”
“He used to brag a lot. He was always saying what a great favorite he was with the girls. Women know about things like that, Mr. Preston. That little—er—that man would have been lucky to get any woman to look at him twice.”
“I see. What else did he brag about?”
“He always claimed he was a poet. I never believed him till I read it in the paper. Used to say he was an undiscovered great artist, the kind of thing one hears all the time from frustrated people of little or no talent.”
My drink was getting low in the glass. I didn’t want to order another, because any interruption to the conversation might serve to remind Eve Prince she was due somewhere else. Not that it did me any good, because just then she looked at her watch.
“Heavens, I must fly. I warned you I couldn’t stay long.”
“I’ll walk with you to the car.”
I signalled to let Tom know I’d be back, and walked beside her out into the sudden afternoon heat.
“I have to ask you one more thing, and please believe I don’t want to upset you.”
She gave my arm a quick squeeze.
“I believe that already.”
I took a deep breath, and hoped she’d go on thinking that way.
“The time you told me about, the time those pictures were taken.”
Her face went very straight, and she stared at the ground as we walked towards the car.
“Well?” she asked quietly.
“Do you happen to know the name of the man who— er—who was doing, well, the man who was involved?”
“No.”
“You told me he was big, but that’s all you told me. How big, for instance, as big as me?”
She looked sideways at me appraisingly.
“Bigger. Not taller perhaps, but much broader. He was —ugh—like an ape.”
And I wasn’t going to get any more no matter how hard I dug. I’d experienced that kind of thing before. Eve Prince had blotted him out of her mind as a person, and his place was no more than a large, shadowy, dread.
“And Somerset? Did you ever see him again?”
“Yes,” she said reluctantly. “I met him at an art gallery a month or so ago. There was a private showing of quite a promising painter from San Diego, and I was invited. He was very decent about it when we were introduced. He pretended he’d never seen me before. I was grateful.”
We were standing by her car now, a small red coupe. She held out her hand formally.
“Well good-bye, Mr. Preston. Thank you for the drink. I’m afraid I haven’t been very helpful.”
“One never knows in this business,” I told her. “Maybe in a day or two some quite small thing you told me might help to explain a whole lot of other things I don’t even know about yet.”
“I hope so.”
“Oh, and Mrs. Prince——”
“Yes?”
She paused with her hand on the starter and looked up.
“I was wondering whether we could have another drink sometime, and talk about something more pleasant?”
She nodded and smiled.
“I think I’d like that. So I’ll make it au revoir.”
I watched the little car out on to the highway, then went back inside. I took my glass up to the bar, to find Tom watching me apprehensively.
“Gee Mr. Preston, I never meant no harm. I mean, naturally any friend of yours is O.K. Sometimes when I talk about those other bums I say more than I oughta.”
I looked at him in blank astonishment.
“Tom,” I said carefully. “I know it’s a very hot day, but I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”
He didn’t believe me.
“Sure you do, no need to be polite. I mean about the lady. Honest I wouldn’t have said——”
“Tom,” I interrupted firmly. “Just tell me slowly what it was you wouldn’t have said.”
“Why about that crowd that finally took over the Grease-Paint Pot, the crowd that caused me to change my job. I mean they wasn’t all that way. Some of them, one or two anyway, was real nice people.”
Now I was beginning to get the point.
“Are you telling me the lady who was just here——?”
“Sure. I figured you’d know. Sure. She was in there all the time.”
“I think I’m going to need another drink,” I told him. “Did she used to be with any particular crowd, anybody you could lay a name to?”
He looked at me as though he thought it was a funny question.
“Why sure. Naturally I can. You know that good-looking young guy hangs around with Jake Martello and those?”
“Like an overgrown college boy, you mean? Hamilton?”
“Sure, that’s him, that’s the guy. Clive Hamilton.” He said it with satisfaction at having got it right. I looked across at the table where she and I had been sitting five minutes before.
“Not Clive, Tom. Clyde. The guy’s name is Clyde F. Hamilton.” The drink tasted stale and flat.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I WENT DOWN TO THE HOSPITAL. A long time ago I learned not to bother the people at reception. They can usually come up with some perfectly good reason why I shouldn’t go in, and that doesn’t get me anywhere at all. These days I always walk straight through, with a set face as though I’m on some urgent hospital business. They have so many people who have every right to be there, they don’t even bother to look up most of the time.
Today was all right. There was just one girl behind the reception desk, head bent busily as she scribbled at some of the eternal records they have to maintain. The pretty brown hair made me wonder what kind of a face went with it, but in the circumstances I was prepared to make the sacrifice.
All the tough cases like Jake Martello’s were kept at street level. The crash victims, attempted suicides, gunshot wounds and so forth. This had the double advantage of quick access for the incoming ambulance, plus accessibility to the hospital morgue if there was nothing the medics could do. I’d been to Monkton General often in the past, too often, and I was soon in the corridor where I knew Jake would be lying. There was no uniform on view, but that only meant there would be a man inside the room with him. This is partly for protection, and partly so that anything the victim says can be written down. All I had to do was get the guard moved so I could get a word with Jake.
At the end of each corridor was a public pay-phone. I sorted loose change and called the hospital.
“Monkton General. Can I help you?”
“Police Department. You have an officer with one of your patients, Mr. Martello. Can you get the officer to the ‘phone please?”
“Certainly. Please hang on.”
I hung on. Soon I heard the clacking of flat-heeled women’s shoes, and a trim white figure passed me. I pretended to be deep in conversation. I watched as she paused outside a door, opening it carefully and slipping inside. A moment later she re-appeared, followed by a young policeman, and I watched the little procession pass me. Soon there was a man’s voice on the phone.
“Cogan.”
“Cogan, there’s been a reported shooting at 1227 Lakeside. That’s just a few hundred yards from the hospital, and we don’t have a squad car available right now. Will you investigate?”
“But I’m watching this shooting victim here,” he protested.<
br />
“Sorry. This shouldn’t take a few minutes. Get a nurse to stay with him till you get back.”
“Does Sergeant Randall know about this?” he asked.
“Sergeant Randall will be told,” I replied severely. “These instructions are from the Captain.”
“All right, what are the details?”
“Some kid fired a shot through a window. Probably no more than an accident. Just get the details, but proceed with caution. And the Captain says not to get gun happy. Get what you can and report in by telephone. If we get a squad car free, we’ll send them along to help out. Your job is to get back to that hospital as fast as you can.”
“Got it.”
I pressed down the receiver and waited. After a short wait a girl in a white uniform flounced by and made for Martello’s room. I gave her time to get settled in there, then followed and tapped gently at the door. Without waiting for a reply, I went in. She looked up, startled, from the magazine she’d picked up.
“What’s going on here miss?” I asked gruffly. “There is supposed to be a uniformed officer on duty here the whole time.”
“Oh—oh yes. He had a call from headquarters and had to go out on some urgent call. He said he’d only be a few minutes.”
I looked at my watch impatiently.
“I haven’t got time to hang around waiting. They told me he’d be here. I’ll have to come back later, I guess.”
She nodded, anxious not to get the good-looking young patrolman in trouble.
Stepping across, I looked down at Jake. He seemed to be peacefully asleep.
“How is he? Has he said anything yet?”
“Nothing coherent, I understand. But he’s out of danger now. In a few days he can probably go home. Mind you, I’m just a second-year nurse, you’d have to get a proper opinion from one of the house men.”
“I’ll read the official stuff when it comes through,” I nodded. Leaning over the prostrate figure I said “Jake,” softly.
His eyes flickered, and I spoke again. This time he got them half-open, and he saw me.
“Hi,” he muttered feebly.
“I don’t think you ought to disturb him this way,” said the little nurse nervously.
“Just a word,” I explained. “Anything he can say now might save a lot of unnecessary work. Can you hear me, Jake?”
He nodded slightly.
“You know a girl named Eve Prince?”
A pause, then slowly the head moved from side to side.
“Have you been looking for McCann?”
Another pause, longer this time. Then a slight nod.
“You might have saved some time if you told me that in the first place,” I reproved. “What about this Hamilton, you trust him?”
Another nod, followed by a sideways negative. I thought I knew what he meant.
“You mean yes and no?”
This time there was just a nod.
“Do you have any idea who might have done this to you? Anybody at all.”
There was no response. Whatever Jake’s private thoughts on the subject might be, they were staying that way. Which wasn’t a whole lot of help to me. I noticed the nurse was taking a lot of interest, so I leaned close to his ear and whispered.
“You told me Brookman was into you for eight grand. Was that just talk money? I mean was it really less?”
He shook his head decisively.
“Really, I don’t think you can talk to him any more.”
The nurse was quite firm this time, and seemed to be getting ready to throw me out.
“One last thing,” I said. “Jake, can I trust Rose? I mean, all the way?”
He felt so strongly about it, he didn’t use signs. In a thin, croaking voice he said.
“All the way.”
“Well, I’ll come and see you again. You’re going to be O.K. they tell me. Don’t worry about things outside. Half the town is rooting for you.”
He managed a feeble grin, and I turned away. It was time I was moving in any case. I didn’t care for an interview with an irate policeman.
“Thank you nurse,” I told her politely. “You’ll be sure not to leave him, till the officer gets back?”
“You may be quite sure of that. And now, if you don’t mind.”
She looked pointedly towards the door and I went through it with a grin.
At the hospital entrance I met a red-faced patrolman coming in at the run. He didn’t pay me any attention, and I didn’t hang around for him to come looking. Instead I went to Eddie’s Bar and Grill for one of his famous salt beef sandwiches and a mug of beer. Eddie’s is one of my favorite spots, because apart from the sandwiches, there are usually one or two people around I know. Especially newspaper people. They seem to have a special affinity with bars in general, and in particular bars where the salt beef sandwiches come highly recommended.
Today was no exception. I saw one or two reporters around, but they weren’t the ones I wanted to see. I managed to find a corner where I could watch the door. Today was Tuesday, and with luck, Tip Brannigan would be in. Brannigan covers the crime beat for the Record, and though that particular sheet is no favorite of mine, it didn’t change the fact he had the best crime nose in town. Sure enough, when I was half-way down my second beer, he came in through the door. I managed to catch his eye and wave him over. He nodded to show he’d seen me, collected his order and brought it to where I was sitting.
“Well well, the poor man’s Sherlock Holmes. Shouldn’t you ought to be out looking for clues?”
He took an enormous bite of the sandwich, and sat munching happily away.
“Not me,” I hedged. “I keep away from the real crime, leave all that stuff to you guys. With me it’s just missing jewelry, runaway wives, stuff like that.”
“Ha, ha,” he said between bites. “Not what they tell me. Not what they tell me at all.”
“And you? What about all these killings going on all over town? I’m surprised you can find time for these big lunches.”
He mopped at his mouth with a huge handkerchief, then dipped his nose into the foaming beer.
“Man that’s good,” he announced. “You know, I’ve had practically no sleep in thirty-six hours.”
“Insomnia?”
He snorted derisively, and helped himself to an Old Favorite from the pack I’d carelessly left on the table.
“What’s with all the shadow-boxing?” he demanded. “You read the papers. You know what I’m doing.”
“Let’s say I could probably make a guess.”
“I’ll bet you could. Matter of fact, I’m sort of glad I ran into you. How about making with a little truth. You know, those facts you have you didn’t tell Randall about.”
“I told him all I know.”
“Yah. It’s only natural you should be the one standing next to Jake the Take when they blasted him. What were you talking about?”
“Now, let’s see. I think I said it was a fine night, and if I recall it right. Jake said it sure was. Then somebody out in the fine night put the blast on him, and that was the end of the conversations.”
Brannigan shrugged, and flicked ash on the floor.
“Naturally, if you don’t want to cooperate with the press——”
“If I knew who shot him and why, I’d be down at headquarters telling Randall,” I returned evenly. “I’m not the kind of hero to keep that information to myself. The guy might take it into his head to put me away too.”
He nodded eagerly.
“Boy, yeah. That would make a swell story. I could get most of a page out of you, with all those little things you been mixed up in all these years. Yeah. A honey.”
“Thanks for the interest,” I said bitterly. “Maybe I should carry a little card saying ‘in the event of my violent death, first contact Brannigan of the Record 7 .”
“It’s a thought, a generous thought.”
I took a sip at the beer, and he was watching me shrewdly as I did so.
“In any c
ase,” I countered, “That’s just a little shooting. I mean Jake’s not even in any danger. I would have thought you’d be far more interested in that guy, the one they tossed over the Point. And the girl yesterday. The way I read it, those two could go together, and that’s more of a story in your line.”
“Ah,” he flapped his hands in dismissal. “A two-day wonder. A nobody guy, and a dame who seems to be a piece of genuine flotsam. There’s no public appeal. I have to have names, big names. Or a nice little vice ring, something to drag the public in. I mean the girl wasn’t even assaulted.
“And who said she was murdered?”
He slipped the last question in casually, but years of dealing with policemen and reporters has accustomed me to the oblique approach. I looked suitably wide-eyed.
“Why nobody. At least nobody said so in as many words, but reading between the lines I assumed there was a connection between the two deaths.”
He watched to see if I was blurring, decided I wasn’t.
“Well, there could be I imagine. But it doesn’t matter one way or the other. There’s no romance, like I said. Characters like that get knocked off every other day. This is kind of a rough old town we have here. Next week, who knows? Maybe just a head in the stock yards. Just a head, all by itself. Then the body starts turning up all over the city. An ear in the mayor’s mail, a leg left on the steps of City Hall. Now, that would be something. A man could get his teeth into a story like that.”
I shuddered in mock horror.
“You ought to be writing screenplays for B horror movies,” I told him. “Pity about the girl, though. Nice looker.”
“Aren’t they all? Nobody knocks off the frumps. If they do we don’t bother to print. Did you see her?”
“Just once, somewhere. Nice.”
“Yeah. I thought there might be something there. You know, this Hugo Somerset is kinda wierd. But if he was paying the tab, there’s nothing to show it. She had private money.”
“One of those,” I sneered.
“How’s that?”
“It seems to be that half the unattached dames in this town have an allowance from dear old daddy. He usually owns a complex of factories back east, or he’s a big plantation owner in the south. None of them ever seems to come from ordinary homes where people have to work for a living.”
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