by Larry Kent
When Larry Kent said goodbye to Eve Delmar, she was alive. The next morning she turned up dead—shot to death. But who wanted to kill her, and why? The chief suspect was her estranged husband … but he was a friend of Larry’s, and when he denied murder, Larry believed him.
So he set out to find the real killer and save his friend from a hot date with the electric chair.
But the case soon turned even more complicated. What part did nightclub owner Earl Salem play in it all? How did a seven-year old, out-of-state murder tie in to it?
It was only when someone decided that Larry himself should be his next victim that he realized he was up against something bigger than he could have possibly suspected.
LARRY KENT 646: WITCH RHYMES WITH …
By Don Haring
First Published by The Cleveland Publishing Pty Ltd
Copyright © Piccadilly Publishing
First Digital Edition: April 2019
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book
Series Editor: David Whitehead
Text © Piccadilly Publishing
Published by Arrangement with The Cleveland Publishing Pty Ltd.
Chapter 1 ... the lady is a tramp ...
Oceanview is a small town on the Atlantic Ocean in New Jersey, about fifty minutes from New York City. The way I drive, the trip usually takes about forty minutes. However, the evening I went down to see Eve Delmar—Mrs. John Delmar—I crawled along the turnpike. I guess I wasn’t too anxious to see Eve. I left the city about seven-thirty and entered Oceanview at twenty-five to nine.
My destination was the Sunshine Garden Hotel. Land doesn’t come cheap in this part of the United States, so most hotels are built on small plots of ground. The Sunshine Garden was unique in that it covered an acre—and there wasn’t a suite that wasn’t on the ground floor. Actually, the hotel was a series of small buildings around a large, sprawling central building that contained the lobby and office, a cocktail bar, snack bar and restaurant. At least half the guests were permanent tenants who rented their suites by the month.
I wheeled the Corvette into the big parking lot beside the central building. A familiar figure came limping across the lot. I got out of the car and said, “Hello, Benny.”
Benny stopped beneath an arc-light. His round, homely face showed surprise.
“Don’t you remember me?” I asked.
His lips spread in a broad smile. “Mr. Kent? It is you, Mr. Kent! Hell’s bells, it’s been a long time.”
“Over a year, Benny.” I put out my hand.
“Gee, it’s good to see you again, Mr. Kent,” he said, pumping my hand. “I didn’t expect to see you—not here, anyhow—not after Mr. Delmar left. He’s not coming back, is he? He’s not coming back to live with his wife again, is he?”
Benny seemed worried, concerned.
“I don’t think so,” I said.
Benny looked away, grunted. “He’s a nice man, Mr. Delmar. I got along real good with him. I’m glad he’s not coming back to that lady. I mean ... well, he deserves the best, and she ... well ...”
“I know what you mean,” I said. “How’ve you been, Benny?”
“Oh, fine, Mr. Kent, just fine.”
“Any more operations?”
“No, sir. Those Veteran Administration doctors did a real good job on me the last time.” He tapped a knuckle on his head. “They gave me half a pound of silver, Mr. Kent. Aren’t many guys can say they’ve got a silver skull like I have.”
“No more headaches, Benny?”
“Only once in a while. But that’s no problem. I get a headache, I swallow a pill. Zam! Just like that, the headache’s gone.” He scratched at his head. “Only thing is, my memory ain’t so good any more. Like the other day. One of the tenants gave me a hot horse at Washington Park. I phoned my bookie to put a bet on the nag, but then I couldn’t remember the name. So I looked through all the entries. Do you think I could remember what horse the tenant gave me? The horse’s name just slid out of my brain. It came in first, too, at six to one. When the tenant told me about it, I said I had a deuce on the nag. I just didn’t have the heart to tell him I forgot. I mean, he was happy for me, y’know? Well, that’s how it is. Every now and then my head gets lazy, kind of. Not that I’m kicking. I’m a real lucky guy, Mr. Kent, and nobody knows that better than I do. Hell, that gook hand grenade went off only a foot from the top of my head. You should’ve seen my helmet! Man, you could stick your arm through it.”
I patted him on the back. “You’re doing real well, Benny.”
“You can say that again. I get a hundred and twenty bucks a month pension, eighty a week here at the hotel—hell, I’m really living. Hey, you want me to put some gas in your car or something?”
“Yes, Benny, if you don’t mind. Have the tank filled up and tell the station attendant to check the oil and battery, will you?”
“I’ll do that part myself, Mr. Kent.”
“Here.” I gave him a ten dollar bill. “Thanks, Benny.”
“My pleasure. Hey, how long are you going to be here?”
“Well, I’m not sure.”
“Then I’ll get onto it right away. I’ll have your car back in five minutes. This is like old times, eh?” He frowned. “Only ... this wasn’t the car you had last time I saw you here at the hotel. It was a Buick, wasn’t it?”
It was a Pontiac, but I said, “That’s right, Benny. That memory of yours isn’t as bad as you think it is.”
He smiled. “Hey, that’s a fact, ain’t it. How long since you were here?”
“Over a year.”
“A year, eh? Hey, that’s not bad. Over a year, and I remembered. That’s not bad at all. Okay, Mr. Kent, I’ll get in your car and take it straight to the garage. You go and—”
He stopped. “Did you come here to—It’s none of my business, maybe, Mr. Kent, but—”
“I’ve come to see Eve Delmar,” I said. “She phoned and said she wanted to see me.”
Furrows appeared in Benny’s forehead. I could feel his brain struggling. He said, “Maybe ... maybe she wants to make up with Mr. Delmar. You think that could be it, Mr. Kent?”
“It takes two for that kind of thing, Benny.”
“It wouldn’t be right, you know.” He shook his head back and forth, slowly. “I’d sure like for Mr. Delmar to live here again, but that wouldn’t be right.” He looked at me. “I always try to mind my own business, but I can’t help noticing certain things. I mean ... parties in there ... and men ... and the way she drinks. She’s just not good enough for Mr. Delmar.”
“Sure, Benny.”
“A man like him, Mr. Kent—a good man like him, he deserves the best. Do you see him in the city?”
“We have lunch together at least once a week.”
“How is he?”
“Fine. Never better.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“And Jack will be glad to hear that you’re finished with the operations. I’ll tell him about it next time I see him.”
“And give him my best, too, eh?”
“I will, Benny.”
“Thanks. Well, I better take care of your car. See you later.”
I walked across the parking lot, past the central building, then along a flagstone path that wound between the suites. The
place was well looked after. Each suite sat on an island of close cropped lawn. The islands were separated by either box hedges or flower plots. Set here and there, apparently at random, were fir trees and flowering shrubs. There were four clusters of suites, called wings; North, South, East and West. Eve Delmar lived in suite 27, in the West Wing. It was at the far edge of that particular cluster.
I heard Eve’s record player long before I reached suite 27. It was giving out full blast. Tiger Rag. One of Eve’s favorite numbers. Jack preferred classical music, played low. When they had their last argument, more than a year back, Eve broke all Jack’s records while he was packing his things. He told me about it a few months later. By then he was able to see the humor in it. But he hadn’t had much of a sense of humor during the last six or seven months he lived with Eve.
I was almost to Eve’s door when I heard something nearby. It was just a small sound, but it stopped me in my tracks. There was a tall shrub between the suite and the flagstone path. Standing in the shadows of this shrub was a man.
I said, “Hello, Peller.”
Peller stepped onto the flagstone path. He was a small, fat man with narrow, hunched shoulders. But he had the face of a thin man. It was as though someone had given him the wrong head.
“Well, well, well,” Peller said. “It’s Mr. Larry Kent.”
I said, “Well, well, well. You’re still sneaking around, I see.”
“Just doing my job, Mr. Kent, that’s all. A hotel detective has to know what’s going on. It’s what I get paid for.”
“You’re a lucky man, Peller. Every other place I know, they put Peeping Toms in jail.”
“You’ve got no call to make a crack like that,” Peller said, sounding hurt. “After all, we’re both in the same kind of business. Besides, you never know when you might need a feller’s help.”
“You’re so right,” I said. “Tell you what. Give me your card. The next time I need a dirty old man to peep into a girl’s bedroom window, I’ll let you know. Now, if you’ll get out of my way ...”
“Wait. Wait just a second, Mr. Kent—”
I grabbed two handfuls of his coat, lifted him off the flagstone path, set him down on the grass. “Excuse me,” I said. “Good night, Peller.” I took two steps toward the door.
“Hold it,” Peller said.
There was something in his voice that made me stop. I turned.
“What is it, Peller?”
“I might be able to do you some good. You see, I know why you’re here.”
“You do, eh?”
“Sure. You and Jack Delmar are good friends. The redhead in there doesn’t want to give him a divorce. One and one makes—”
“Your arithmetic is lousy, Peller.”
“Don’t give me that, Mr. Kent. I read the papers. Jack Delmar has come up in the world since he left his wife. One year ago that little ad agency of his was swimming in red ink. Now it’s got some of the biggest clients in the country. Also, Walter Winchell had a piece about Jack Delmar in his column; something about Jackie boy making the rounds of the night-clubs with his little blonde secretary. If you think the redhead doesn’t know about that, you’re crazy. She doesn’t miss a thing.”
“So?”
“So she doesn’t want a divorce. Why should she divorce a guy who’s going to be a millionaire in no time at all? Of course, she might change her mind if he comes up with an interesting proposition—say, fifty thousand cash on the barrel-head and a thousand a week.”
“That’s not a divorce, Peller, it’s an international settlement.”
“Eve’s a smart girl, Mr. Kent. She’s got a brain like a cash register. And she’s careful. You won’t get any divorce evidence against her. And she won’t scare, either. But you’ll find that out for yourself. Maybe you know it already.” Peller sucked his teeth. “Unless I’m mistaken, you—uh—you knew Eve Romaine before she got married, didn’t you? Seems to me I heard her mention that once or twice. Matter of fact, the way she told it, you and she were pretty friendly. But I’m sure you—uh—didn’t come all the way down here to renew that old friendship, though I wouldn’t blame you if you did. That’s a nice piece of woman in there.”
“Peller, you’re a crud.”
He chuckled. “First thing a feller learns when he becomes a hotel detective is that people are going to call him names sooner or later. Well, I don’t mind ... it means I’m reaching you.”
“Just don’t stretch too far and touch me,” I warned him.
“I don’t mind that, either. You don’t have to like me to do business with me.”
“What kind of business?”
“You know what I mean. You’re in my marketplace. I’ve got things to sell.”
“Things concerning Eve?”
“All kinds of things.”
“I’ll bet.”
“So, if you and Jack Delmar don’t do any good for your selves ... well, maybe I can help.”
“If the price is right.”
“Naturally. But it won’t be anything like the price she wants. Well, you know how to get in touch with me. Just ring the hotel and ask for Stanley Peller; I’m usually around. It’s been nice talking to you again, Mr. Kent. I hope we can do some business.”
He backed into the darkness, turned and scurried away. The Sunshine Garden Hotel was the perfect place for a weasel like Peller—plenty of windows to peep through. I had no intention of doing business with him. In fact, it had been a test of my will power just talking to him. But there was a chance that Jack Delmar might want to deal with Peller on his own. Eve was giving Jack a rough time. Maybe knowing a little of Peller’s dirt would make her more reasonable in her divorce demands. Peller was right about that; Eve did have a brain like a cash register.
I pressed the button beside her door. Tiger Rag had finished while I was talking to Peller and the buzzer sounded loud and clear. I heard Eve’s muffled voice, then something crashed to the floor, near the door, and she laughed. The door opened. She stared at me.
“Hello, Eve.”
“Larry ...?”
“Didn’t you think I’d come?”
Her eyes blinked.
“Aren’t you going to ask me in?” I said.
Suddenly she was the old Eve. Gay laughter. “Why, of course, Larry darling! The more the merrier! No friend like an old friend and all that stuff.” She threw the door wide open.
There was a smashed flower vase on the floor, some roses. The water made a spreading stain on the carpet. Stale water.
“Another of my wedding presents,” Eve said, seeing me looking down. “Jack’s dear old auntie Grace gave me that vase. You know me when I’ve had a few drinks, Larry; I stumble all over the place.”
That was when I saw the man. He leaned against the piano, smoking a cigarette. He wore a powder-blue evening jacket, a black shoe-string tie, patent leather shoes. He sported a thin moustache on his upper lip and his thick brown hair had stylish silver at the temples. He had a tough-looking face that some women might consider handsome; cold gray eyes. He was about my size, maybe a little heavier.
“I don’t know if you two have met,” Eve said, walking past me. The guy pushed himself away from the piano, smiled. “Earl, this is Larry Kent, an old friend of the family—on Jack’s side. Larry—Earl Salem.”
Salem put out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Kent. You came to my place in the city some months ago, but I didn’t get the opportunity to meet you. By the time you were pointed out to me, you were on your way out.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I don’t—”
“I own Earl’s Court, Mr. Kent.”
“Oh, the discotheque.”
“That’s right.”
“A nice place.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s where I met Earl,” Eve said. “I went there with a group of old friends. Earl had to drive down to Atlantic City this afternoon. He dropped by on the way back.”
I just nodded.
Eve was
amused. She said, “Just because I’m separated from Jack doesn’t mean I can’t have any male friends.”
“Of course not,” I said.
“As a matter of fact,” Salem said, “my wife suggested that I drop in and say hello to Eve.”
“You can both stop worrying,” I said. “I haven’t handled a divorce case for years.”
“That’s reassuring,” Salem smiled.
“Incidentally,” I said.
His eyebrows went up. “Yes?”
“I’d wipe my chin if I were you.”
Salem walked to the wall mirror, saw the lipstick on his chin, wiped it off with a handkerchief, chuckled.
Eve was still highly amused. “Larry darling, you’ll have to do a lot better than that. There’s no law against kissing an old friend.”
“I think Mr. Kent was just trying to be helpful,” Salem said. His eyes met mine in the wall mirror. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” I said.
“My, my, my. How civilized and sophisticated we are,” Eve said. She took a cigarette from a box, flicked a flame from a bulky brass lighter, blew a stream of smoke at the ceiling. “Don’t let Larry fool you, Earl. He may have stopped taking divorce cases, but there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for an old friend—and Jack is a particularly close friend.”
“Then it’s just as well I’m a happily married man,” Salem said. “Everyone knows how devoted Anne and I are to each other.”
I was getting peeved. First Stanley Peller, now these two.
“Look,” I said, “this is all very entertaining and all that, but I didn’t come all the way down here to match clever dialogue.”
“I know exactly why you came,” Eve said.
“Fine. Let’s talk about it.”
Salem cleared his throat. “Something tells me I’m the odd man out at the moment.”
“Don’t be silly,” Eve said. “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t hear what I’m going to say to Larry.”
“Perhaps not. But I have a club to run, and I’m overdue as it is. I really must be getting back. Please don’t bother to see me to the door, Eve. I’ll be in touch soon.” He nodded to me. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Kent.”
