Pulp Crime

by Jerry eBooks

  He decided he would saunter around the neighborhood and see if he could learn anything. He walked past Tony’s cafe and glanced through the open door as somebody held it wide to make an exit. The place was crowded. Men were three deep along the bar and the booths were filled with men and women drinking and eating.

  He saw Tony telephoning and the waiters hurrying around, and the bartenders and cashier busy. Asher strolled on to the next corner, bumping the Christmas Eve throng and smiling at the happy holiday faces.

  The loft building was on the parallel street below, but in that same block. The side street was almost in complete darkness, with only a couple of street lights burning. Asher unbuttoned the flap of his uniform overcoat, got his service revolver out of its scabbard, and held it in his right hand as he thrust the hand into his overcoat pocket.

  He knew every foot of this district. He knew the uneven places in the walks, the dark spots between buildings where an assassin or stickup man could lurk. He knew the exits from every building and the conditions of the buildings as clearly as any member of the fire department.

  He walked slowly, softly in the thin film of snow on the walks, keeping the fine spit of snow out of his eyes so his vision would not be blinded at a crucial moment. He listened to every sound.

  When he came to the corner of the street below, he stood in a dark spot with his back flat against a building, and looked and listened. The loft building was next to the corner building and the street was dark except for a street light at each end of the block. There was no residential property on this street, only wholesale houses and loft buildings.

  Asher watched and listened for several minutes, but saw nobody in the street except one inebriated individual who seemed to be trying to get home with a bunch of parcels. Asher decided to cross the street and take a look at the alley behind the loft building.

  He crossed the street swiftly, so a lookout, if there happened to be one, might not spot him. He was thinking of the black record of the Jake Harbin gang. Jake and Louie Monds had both done time for burglary, but for the past several years had escaped incarceration. They had been hauled in for questioning several times, but always seemed to have an alibi. And both had jobs as automobile mechanics.

  Both men were about forty, and they generally recruited two or three younger men to work with them. Asher had suspected they had been after Eddie Fergus. They would consider him a good prospect for their gang, since his father had been a convict and Eddie had gone around for years telling how he hated coppers.

  Asher slipped quietly along the side street and came to the mouth of the narrow alley which ran behind the wholesale establishments. No lights were burning in the alley, and there should have been two. Asher knew they had been burning the previous night when he made his rounds.

  That made him suspicious. The high wind of the afternoon might have broken the globes, but he doubted it. He took his hand out of his overcoat pocket, bringing his service revolver with it. He removed his glove and gripped the gun.

  Entering the alley, he kept close to the buildings as he went forward slowly to investigate. His steps were silent, and he felt his way, for he could see nothing in the pitch blackness after he got into the alley a short distance from the street. He was thankful he knew the alley well.

  Then he heard a slight sound, and stopped abruptly. A whisper came to him on the wind. He fumbled beneath his overcoat and brought out his flashlight. Holding it high in his left hand, he aimed it and slipped the catch. The beam of light shot out, focused and dropped, revealing a truck at the rear door of the loft building, with two men tossing bales into it.

  “Cops!” somebody yelled.

  A flame split the black night, a gun cracked and a bullet whistled over Asher’s head. He extinguished the flashlight and darted quickly across the alley to the opposite wall.

  Two more shots came, and Asher could tell two men were firing at him from different positions. Somebody inside the building yelled, and he heard feet pounding. Asher tossed two quick shots at the gun-flashes and dodged to a new position before the return fire came.

  HIS move carried him forward, toward the truck. He crashed against an empty packing case that had been left in the alley in disregard of city ordinances, and for once he was glad a law had been broken. From behind the packing case he emptied his gun, then flattened himself on the snowy pavement to reload frantically.

  He had heard a cry of pain. As the thieves opened up again, directing their fire across the alley, evidently thinking he had changed position, Asher saw by the gun-flashes that one man sprawled lifelessly at the side of the truck.

  He knew this was a battle for himself alone, for as far as he knew there was no help for him in the vicinity. If prowling officers happened to be in the neighborhood and were attracted by the gunfire, they might come to his assistance. But there were no people living anywhere near to put in urgent calls for the police.

  He fired four shots quickly, and by the gun-flashes from the guns of the thieves he saw another man fall and sprawl at the end of the truck. A heavy fire was returned, and Asher discovered that he had two more men with whom to deal. They began pouring lead at him, and for a short time he didn’t dare change his position.

  Then, as he pulled himself together to dash across the narrow alley and go forward again, somebody behind him began firing. He crouched quickly against the wall, thinking that the gang’s lookout had caught him from behind. But he heard a shout from a hoarse voice he did not recognize.

  “Stay with ’em, Copper! Here’s help!”

  Deserting the truck in the face of this heavy fire, two men started pounding down the alley toward the other end. Asher sprayed the alley with bullets, and the man behind did the same. Then there was a sudden silence.

  “Copper!” Asher heard the man behind him say.

  “Here I am.”

  He kept his gun ready as he heard footsteps coming to him through the darkness. When the footsteps got close, Asher found the man who had helped him was Eddie Fergus.

  “Afraid I’d get here too late,” Eddie said. “Now I got to get away quick. Had a gun, but no gun permit. I’m wipin’ off my fingerprints and leavin’ the gun here. It can’t be traced.”

  “What do you know about this?” Asher asked, suspiciously.

  “Gave you the tip, didn’t I? Learned more afterward. Listen! Did Tony Parsons give you a Christmas package?”

  “Yes.”

  “The thing’s a trap. Don’t ever admit to anybody else that he gave it to you. He planted marked bills in it, and he telephoned the Morning News, which is battlin’ the police department for political reasons, that you’d told him he’d better put some cash in with the socks if he knew what was good for him.

  “Why, that—” Asher began.

  “Listen, ‘cause I’ve got to get away from here quick! Tony is in on this silk deal. Here’s the setup. He knew the Morning News would phone the Police Commissioner and tell the yarn. Then they’d come to get you for questionin’ and drop off a rookie cop to relieve you. He wouldn’t know the neighborhood, and wouldn’t prowl around here. So the Jake Harbin gang could work ‘thout bein’ disturbed.”

  “Why, those rats!” Asher exploded.

  “Here! I’m tossing this illegal gun in the alley. Let ’em think one of the gang dropped it. Now, I’m getting away before anybody comes. See you later, Copper.”

  “Eddie, if it’s a frame like this, I’ll need you.”

  “I won’t dare talk right out, Copper. The gang’d get me before I got into the Army, or take it out on Mom and Mary.”

  “But I put Parsons’ package in my locker. If they get it and find planted bills in it—”

  “Listen! Don’t admit you ever got a package from Parsons. Act innocent and puzzle ’em. Say you don’t know anything about it. When you talk about this alley battle, hint that one of the men said somethin’ about Parsons bein’ in it, and let the dicks give him a goin’ over.”

  “But the package—” />
  “It won’t be in the locker. See you later.”

  “Eddie! Get out of here. Go to the phone booth in the drug store at the corner and phone Headquarters that there’s a copper in trouble here, havin’ a battle with crooks. Get!”

  Eddie Fergus slipped away through the darkness. Crouching against the wall, Asher watched the faint light at the alley’s mouth until he saw Eddie dart through it and go on.

  Then, sure that his gun was reloaded, he got out his flashlight and went forward cautiously.

  The evidence was plain enough. There was the truck partially loaded, and more bales of silk just inside the door waiting to be put into the truck. There were two groaning men on the ground, unconscious—Jake Harbin and Louie Monds.

  This would mean a lot of publicity for him, and possible promotion, Asher knew. It would mean a slap in the face of the Morning News, which had been berating the police department for not catching loft thieves. Maybe he would get a desk sergeant’s job out of this, and could be comfortable on bad nights in the precinct station house.

  He flashed his light around, and it seemed no time at all until he heard sirens. Police cars tore into both ends of the alley and turned their searchlights on the scene.

  UNIFORMED and plainclothes men took over after Asher had made a statement to a captain of detectives and it had been taken down by a stenographer sergeant.

  “Better get back to my beat now, I guess,” he said.

  The captain nodded and waved him away, as another siren announced the arrival of an ambulance. Asher sauntered down the alley, flashing his light. Emerging from the alley, he went along the side street toward the busy avenue.

  He was worrying about what Eddie Fergus had told him. He did not doubt that Tony Parsons had made an attempt to frame him. That would be like Tony—help the Jake Harbin gang and at the same time get rid of a beat patrolman who bothered him.

  Eddie had said the package would not be in the locker. Asher wondered about that. If Eddie was mistaken, and the package was there, and marked currency was with Tony’s Christmas present, it would mean trouble. He remembered that Eddie had stressed the point that he not admit Tony had given him a Christmas package.

  He came to the corner, finally, and walked around it through the blazing light that came from the windows of Tony Parsons’ cafe. And he found himself facing his precinct captain, a couple of detectives and a bunch of reporters, including one from the Morning News.

  “Asher!” the precinct captain snapped. “I’m having Murphy relieve you and take over your beat.”

  “What’s wrong?” Asher asked.

  Tony Parsons thrust his way forward.

  “He asks what’s wrong,” he jibed. “So he’s a comedian!”

  “Yeah, what’s wrong!” the Morning News reporter scoffed.

  “I don’t get this,” Asher said.

  “Come with us,” the precinct captain ordered.

  Asher went with the group to the door of the bootblack stand, where a policeman had been stationed on guard.

  “Asher,” the captain said, “I’m sorry about this. You’ve got a splendid record. But this thing—well, Parsons phoned the News a yarn, and they called the Big Boss, and that’s why we’re here. Spill it, Parsons!”

  The cafe man leered at Asher.

  “He gives me hints about him better be gettin’ a Christmas present from me,” he said. “He made the hints pretty strong. He’s been ridin’ me for years, as the court records show. Hinted he would go easy after this if I’d do the right thing.”

  “That’s a lie!” Asher howled.

  “Go on, Tony,” the captain ordered.

  “Well, I said I’d give him a nice box of socks for Christmas. And he said kids hung up their stockin’s on Christmas Eve so Santa Claus could put presents in ’em. ‘Just consider, Tony,’ he tells me, ‘that I’ve hung up all those socks. And maybe I’d better find foldin’ money in every one of ’em.”

  “Well, what did you do about it?” the captain demanded.

  “I put a hundred dollars in marked bills in with the socks and wrapped the package. I gave him the package. He came here and unlocked the door and put the package in his locker, where he keeps his Christmas loot.”

  “Maybe he didn’t put it there,” the captain said.

  “We were watchin’ him. Had it all fixed. He didn’t undo the package. He put it into the locker, and locked up again and went on attendin’ to his beat. You’ll find the package there, all right, and the marked bills in it. I phoned the News soon as I knew he’d put the package in his locker.”

  “Got anything to say, Asher?” the captain asked.

  “Only that it’s a lie,” Asher replied. “I’ve never asked any man or woman on my beat for anything all the time I’ve been poundin’ the pavement here.”

  “We’ve only to search your locker,” the captain said. “Give me the keys, Asher.”

  “Here they are, sir.” Asher handed them over.

  “So he tries to bluff it out,” Tony Parsons sneered. “He was seen putting the package in the locker, and nobody’s seen him go near there since. So that’s where you’ll find the marked money.”

  One of the detectives was unlocking the door of the bootblack stand.

  “Where’ve you been, Asher?” the captain asked.

  “I caught the Jake Harbin gang raidin’ a silk loft on the back street, sir. Had a gun fight with ’em. Somebody must have phoned Headquarters about the battle, ‘cause the squad’s there now. I just left there. I wounded both Jake Harbin and Louie Monds, and they seem hurt mighty bad.”

  He saw Tony Parsons’ face pale, and pointed a finger at him.

  “This thing about a bribe and marked money—maybe it was a trick to try to get me taken off the beat tonight and a green man put in my place. Only they misfigured. The gang got busy before I was taken off the beat. Jake Harbin was mutterin’ about Tony seein’ they weren’t bothered by the cops.”

  “Yeah?” The captain turned a quick look at Tony. Then he faced Asher again. “Good work, Asher! If it’s as you say, I think you’ve pounded a beat long enough. Maybe we can get you a daytime station desk job. That is, if this thing comes out all right. I’m hoping it does.”

  Asher was hoping so, too. Everything had happened so swiftly that he was bewildered. He didn’t quite understand everything. He had done as Eddie Fergus had told him. But what if this was another trick, if Eddie was still hating coppers and trying to get even with one who helped send his father to the pen years ago?

  THE detective was unlocking the locker now as another man held a flashlight. He pulled the door open. Asher’s raincoat and cap covering were hanging on pegs. A dozen Christmas packages were in the bottom of the locker.

  Asher flashed a quick look and drew in his breath sharply. Everything was as he had left it, except that Tony Parsons’ package was missing.

  “Check the stuff,” the captain told the detective who had opened the locker.

  Asher helped.

  “That’s a jar of tobacco from the old man who owns the tobacco shop at the corner,” he said. “That package is from Mrs. Fergus, probably a pair of socks she knit me—does it every year. There’s a pipe, and a pair of slippers and—”

  “Where’s your package, Parsons?” the captain snapped, gesturing for Asher to be silent.

  “Not there,” Parsons said. “But it has to be! I watched him put it there before I phoned the News.”

  “And he hasn’t been here since?”

  “I had a man watchin’ for him to come back, but he didn’t.”

  “I was pounding my beat, and ran into the Jake Harbin gang,” Asher explained.

  “Then, Tony, where’s the package?” the captain demanded. “All this looks like an attempt to defame an honest law officer—and maybe get him out of the way while the Harbin gang—”

  “I don’t know anything about Harbin.”

  “I’m sending you in for questioning,” the captain decided, motioning to one of hi
s men.

  Tony Parsons squealed his rage when he felt the handcuffs. The officers took him toward a police sedan.

  A police car came screaming around the corner and stopped. A lieutenant of detectives hopped out and ran up to the captain, and related what had happened in the alley. The captain grinned and slapped Asher on the back.

  “Take the rest of the night off,” he said. “Go home and get into your new slippers and load your pipes and listen to the radio. You’ve done more than a day’s work.”

  “Thanks, but—well, I’d rather work out the evenin’,” Asher replied. “I’ve got some more Christmas gifts to collect . . . but there won’t be any bribe money in ’em. Folks around here who’ve known me for years expect it.”

  “Stay on duty, then. Take tomorrow off.”

  “Thanks, sir. I’ll do that.”

  Asher locked the locker and bootblack stand, watched the others get into the cars and drive away, then started strolling up the street.

  He was wondering what had happened to that package Parsons had given him. He wished he could meet Eddie Fergus again and learn more.

  At the next corner, he did meet Eddie.

  “Howdy, Copper!” Eddie said, as if he hadn’t seen Asher before that evening.

  “Howdy, Eddie! Merry Christmas!”

  “Understand we had a little excitement around here,” Eddie said, drifting around the corner slowly and indicating Asher was to follow.

  “A little,” Asher admitted.

  Now they were where nobody could overhear.

  “What about that package, Eddie?” Asher asked.

  “Well, Copper, as you know, I was on my way to becomin’ a’ crook. I’d had some teachers, all right. Had a pocketful of keys and things. Had learned how to pick locks. I knew what was happenin’, Copper, and I picked the lock of the bootblack stand and got inside, and opened the locker and got that package and got out again without bein’ seen, leavin’ everything in shipshape behind me.”