The Hardboiled Mystery Megapack

by John Roeburt

  A cold wind knifed across Manhattan from the Hudson, shrinking the snowflakes and drying them so they stung your face like needles. Traffic was snarled in the snow on Eighth Avenue, the horns arguing all up and down the street. It took us twenty minutes to find a cab and another half-hour to work our way across town past the stalled cars and angry drivers with all sorts of interesting appointments to keep.

  At ten-thirty we stood outside Wilson Wompler’s apartment in Peter Cooper Village, Guido thumping his hands together to warm them. I leaned on the bell and kept on leaning while Guido was stamping the last of the slush from his shoes.

  The door opened and Wompler’s fiercest scowl peeked out of the top of a voluminous woolen bathrobe. It failed to frighten me. “Just what kind of damn big wheel do you think you are?” he growled at me. “I have a good mind to…Jason Chase!”

  “You have a good mind to what?”

  “Well, you’re the third person to bother me tonight.”

  “One was Jo-Anne Stedman,” I told him. “Who was the other?”

  I moved into the apartment, followed by Guido. Wompler grumbled and preceded us into the living room, flicking a light switch as he went. The furnishing was ultra-functional, with butterfly chairs casting big, birdlike shadows on the stark white walls, and the semi-lewd abstractions hanging there and doing fantastic things to the female figure. Before we could settle ourselves in the butterfly chairs, Audrey came padding into the living room from the hallway to our left. She wore her blonde hair loose around her sleek shoulders and satin lounging pajamas were draped straight and shimmering from her high pointed breasts. She didn’t look sleepy. Inside somewhere I could hear soft music playing. It didn’t take much to figure out what we had interrupted.

  “That’s true,” Wompler said. “Miss Stedman was here asking about how I knew Phyllis Kirk. She wasn’t the only one.”

  “I’m listening,” I said.

  “Why are you getting all hot and bothered about this thing, anyhow?”

  I shrugged out of my coat, which Audrey took. She got behind Guido, towering over him, and helped him out of his overcoat. She padded barefoot back into the hall and hung both garments in a closet.

  “I only want to know what happened to Jo-Anne,” I said. “Where did she go?”

  “All you people think I’ve got something to do with these Kincaid papers. I wouldn’t lie to you, Chase. I’m clean. Why should I…”

  “You already told me why. Phyllis Kirk was going to do an article for Hush. You liked the idea.”

  “But she’s dead. It looks like I won’t get my article after all.”

  “What did Jo-Anne want?”

  “I told you. I explained how Miss Kirk had wanted to do an article for my magazine. She said she found it hard to believe.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she didn’t think Miss Kirk would have broken her trust like that. I shrugged and said that’s what happened, just like I told her.”

  “It’s the truth,” said Li’l Audrey, bobbing her blonde head up and down. “I was right here.” She winked at me. “Right here in Grand Central Station, I might add.”

  “Who else paid you a visit?”

  “A private operative from the Tad Barrett Detective Agency,” Wompler said, smoothing his wavy brown hair into place. “He said you hired Barrett to find the missing Kincaid papers. But it looks like you’re throwing your money away if you go dogging the eye’s footsteps.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “Then what did Jo-Anne do?”

  “She left with the detective. She said she wanted to see this Barrett. She said they were after the same thing, and maybe could help each other.” Wompler grinned ruefully. “Have a heart and call it a night, Chase. It’s late.”

  “How long ago was Jo-Anne here?”

  Wompler asked Audrey for the time and she barefooted into the hall again. She was an amazing creature, that girl. There was so much of her, six feet and probably a hundred and fifty pounds, but all of it was miraculously in place and the lounging pajamas did things for the muscles, smoothing them into curves.

  “It’s a quarter to eleven, Willie.”

  “Then she was here an hour and a half ago,” Wompler told me.

  I nodded. “I hope you’re telling the truth, Wompler. This means a lot to me and I don’t want to find out you’re lying.”

  “He has nothing to hide from you or anybody,” Audrey said. She stood in front of Wompler almost protectively, her arms crossed just below her breasts, cushioning them. “And let me tell you something else, Mr. Chase. I try to act like a lady, but sometimes people don’t let me. This is the second time you called Willie a liar today. I told you, his blood pressure.”

  “I didn’t call him anything. I said I hoped he was telling the truth. Can I use your phone, Wompler?”

  “Help yourself. It’s in the hall.”

  I found the phone, one of those new jobs with the numbers outside the little holes, and dialed information for Tad Barrett’s home address. He caught it midway through the second buzz, so probably I wasn’t disturbing anything over there. “This is Jason Chase,” I said. “Sorry to bother you so late, but something’s come up.”

  “I’m having a nightcap, Chase. Go ahead.”

  “Has Jo-Anne Stedman been over to see you tonight?”

  “Stedman? Oh, the dead girl’s roommate. No. No, she hasn’t. Should she have?”

  “Did one of your operatives visit Wilson Wompler at home tonight?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. He reported in by phone and said he hadn’t learned much.”

  “Did he say anything about Jo-Anne?”

  “He didn’t mention her at all. Is anything wrong, Chase?”

  I said I didn’t know and hung up.

  “Now that he’s confirmed everything,” Wompler suggested, “why don’t you go on home?”

  “Jo-Anne never saw him. His operative didn’t say anything about meeting Jo-Anne here.”

  “That’s crazy, Chase. Maybe he didn’t understand you.”

  “Maybe you don’t. I said this was important.”

  “Then Barrett is lying,” Audrey said. “I was right here. I saw the girl leave with Barrett’s detective.”

  “Maybe this dick didn’t tell his boss. Maybe he has an angle of his own,” Wompler said.

  Why would Wompler and the girl want to lie about Jo-Anne? I couldn’t figure it out; but that they were lying, I was sure.

  I was on Jo-Anne’s trail all right, but not getting anywhere. The more I thought about it, the more I was willing to wring necks to find the answer. Wompler’s neck or Li’l Audrey’s, I wasn’t particular.

  “Hey, Guido,” I said. “You keep an eye on Audrey here. Wompler and I are going inside to have a little talk.”

  Audrey shook her blonde head. “He stays with me.” But Guido was suddenly pointing his .38 at her and waving her off into the far corner of the room with it. “Please do like he says, lady, and there won’t be no trouble.” He’d never pass Grammar One, but he got the point across and confirmed it by planting himself in front of her. You could see Audrey’s face, chin and all, above his head.

  “We’ll try the bedroom,” I told Wompler. “I’m in no hurry at all, but I want the truth out of you. Now move.” He walked ahead of me out of the room, muttering how he was telling the truth and I’d never get away with this. As it turned out, his second statement was a hundred percent correct.

  I heard Guido shout, “Hey!” I whirled back to see what was going on in the living room.

  Li’l Audrey had forgotten she was a lady. I turned in time to see her uncork a right-handed uppercut which would have done a lot of men proud. It connected flush with Guido’s jaw and sent him staggering across the room, crashing into a cocktail table and landing on his back on the floor. He scrambled to his feet, still holding the gun, but then flopped down to hands and knees again. I just stood there, trying to shut my mouth. Audrey got hold of his tie with her left hand, jerking him erect. The
knuckles of her right fist almost scraped the floor as she brought it up again and there was a loud click which said Guido would have to pay his dentist a visit in the near future. When Audrey let go of his tie, Guido lay there, leaking blood from his mouth to the carpet.

  Ex-lady grappler! She should have tried boxing. She had Guido’s gun, too.

  I thought she’d start hollering at me and I was ready for anything, but she stood there panting, staring not at me, not at Guido, but at Wompler. She tried to say something and got all choked up over it, then she began to cry. I caught the words, “…to act like a lady…you never let me…always mixed up in something like this…didn’t want to hit him, but…going to hurt you…Willie, Willie…”

  I walked to her and she didn’t try to stop me when I unwrapped her long fingers from Guido’s gun. I went into the kitchen for a glass of water and sloshed it on Guido’s face. He spluttered and blinked and staggered upright holding a jaw which was already beginning to swell.

  I looked at Audrey and figured she’d make more noise next time and maybe do more damage now that she knew Guido wouldn’t use the gun.

  “Oh, God,” Wompler pleaded, “Get out of here. This is a bachelor apartment. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

  “If you’re lying about Jo-Anne, I’ll get you for it.”

  “Honest, Chase. Honest. It’s the truth. Just get out of here. Honest.”

  So I supported Guido over to the closet and helped him on with his coat. “If anything happens to her, I’ll kill you,” I said.

  “Honest,” Wompler said. “Honest, Chase.”

  Guido still needed my support outside on the street. It was snowing harder.

  We found a luncheonette still open on Second Avenue, and I bought Guido a cup of coffee and told him I was sorry.

  “You should be sorry? It was all my fault. I fouled up on you. Letting a dame push me around like that.”

  “She used to wrestle professionally.”

  “I’ll make it up to you, Jason. Just give me another chance, that’s all. Listen, Jason. I’m working now in a used-car lot up in the Bronx. You want anything, anything at all, I’ll help. I only ask you should let me try. I know my way around. I got connections. Only please don’t think because of what happened I’m no good to you.” The lower half of his face was red and puffy and you couldn’t tell if he was smiling or scowling or what. But his eyes were pleading.

  “Okay,” I said. “That’s a promise.”

  “My pal. I can still crack this thing for you.”

  “Listen. You get any ideas about it, don’t do anything except call me. A promise for a promise.”

  “Sure, anything you say. I’ll call you.”

  “My brother’s place on Park Avenue.” I gave Guido the number and paid our check. We went outside together and I watched Guido disappear into the night, a small, slumping figure of a man who compensated inside for what he lacked in stature.

  Then I caught the bus uptown and grinned for no reason at all, except that I realized I hadn’t disturbed my last household yet tonight. Only Ken wouldn’t mind.

  And Julia would be delighted.

  Chapter Nine

  Neither Ken nor Julia answered the door. Stephanie did.

  I stared. She didn’t really look like Julia. She looked like what I’d always wanted in Julia. She was a younger, idealized version of the same girl, but there were subtle differences in the way she stood, in the frankness of her eyes and voice, in the completely genuine smile that parted her lips and lit up her whole face.

  “Jason,” she said. “This is a wonderful surprise.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Now, don’t get upset. It’s because of what happened. Maybe you shouldn’t have said what you said, but Pop was to blame mostly. I let him know that’s what I thought, and here I am.”

  “What about Emma? She didn’t let you go, did she?”

  “Pop didn’t either. I just packed a bag and walked out. I’m not saying it’s permanent or anything, but I’ve got to let him cool off. I’m not running away or anything dramatic like that. It’s why I came here to Julia’s house. Now, what about you?”

  “They invited me to stay until I got squared away.”

  “Well, get out of that wet coat. And there’s still snow in your hair, enough to comb out and make a snowball with. Come on, get yourself dried out. I’m having cake and milk in the kitchen. If you can thaw out by midnight, I’ll wait for you.”

  I made it with plenty of time to spare, but I must have splashed around too noisily in the bathroom, because when I walked into the kitchen a gathering of the clan was waiting for me.

  “Jason, boy. I’m glad you’re here. Got plenty of room for both you and Steffy. Bring some cheer into the gloomy Chase household, eh, Julia?” He chuckled and caught Julia’s cheek playfully between thumb and forefinger. She smiled mechanically.

  They remained with us for a while, chatting idly about nothing in particular. At last they headed into the foyer, each going a different direction in the long hall. So Ken and Julia maintained separate bedrooms! Julia’s words that morning came back to me and I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. Then I forgot all about her and gazed at her beautiful younger sister.

  “Please, Jason. You’ll make me blush.”

  “I can’t help it. I’d like to spend a lot more time looking at you.”

  “Jason.”

  “No, really.”

  “Please stop.”

  “All right,” I said. “You never did tell me what you hoped to accomplish at Wompler’s.”

  “The same as you did. Incidentally, it didn’t work out.”

  “What didn’t work out?”

  “Wompler must have changed his mind again. When I asked Julia about it tonight she said Ken had called Wompler and he refused to give up the prints.”

  “What the hell! That doesn’t make sense.”

  “That’s what she said. So it looks like I’m still in business up there.”

  “That no good son has been lying his fool head off to me. Every time he opens his mouth, practically. I…I wish you’d forget about it anyway, Steffy.”

  “I can’t. It’s for Julia. If you’re worrying about me, thanks, but you don’t have to. I’ve got a friend up there who’ll look out for me. Maybe you know her, that lady grappler, Audrey? She likes me and says if I ever have any trouble, just come to her.”

  “But what can you do about the blackmail?”

  Stephanie rolled her eyes and then laughed. “Well, I’m a woman, Jason. Wompler’s maybe kind of little, but he’s male.”

  “Listen,” I said, plunking my milk glass on the table and standing up. “If I even thought that dapper little liar was touching you, I’d…”

  “Shh, you’re shouting. You’re sweet, Jason. But you don’t have to worry about that, either. A girl can get a lot more results if she keeps her distance but sort of, well… Oh, I don’t like to do such things, but I can’t sit around while blackmail ruins Julia’s marriage.”

  “You think that’s what’s ruining her marriage?”

  “She thinks so.”

  “I got you into trouble with your father. Now I’m trying to even the score and get you out of some. No matter what happens with Wompler, this marriage is on the rocks.”

  “That’s a spiteful thing to say. I know you’re carrying a torch, but…”

  “You’ve got it wrong, kid. I feel nothing for Julia now. I thought she was someone but it turned out she was someone else—I had this idea inside my head which the girl outside didn’t fit. So it isn’t that. I can’t see you sticking your neck out over something which is going to pan out wrong no matter what you do, that’s all.”

  “It’s my neck, Jason. Please let’s not talk about it.”

  “Well, it looks like all I do these days is try to keep girls I know out of trouble. So far I’m batting zero.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  “No. Good night.”

&n
bsp; After she’d gone, I sat on the Chinese Modern sofa and had a couple of shots of Canadian. I was worrying about Jo-Anne, worrying good and hard. But deep down, I remained aware of Stephanie. What was there about that kid? I walked back to the kitchen. The faint fragrance of her was there, still lingering like an unfelt kiss in the air.

  I decided on sleep and walked down the foyer to my room. “Jason Chase,” I said, thinking the words and then realizing I was saying them out loud, “You’re falling in love with the girl.”

  I shut the door and found a pair of Ken’s pajamas on the bed. I fell asleep thinking of Jo-Anne—and Stephanie.

  * * * *

  Suddenly I sat up in bed. It seemed to me that the door had opened and shut, waking me.

  “What the hell do you want?” I said.

  There came the soft sound of footsteps on the carpet.

  Ken? What the devil was he after at this hour?

  “Damn it, Ken. Get out of here.”

  “Shh! You’ll wake them.” A woman, whispering. “It’s Steffy, silly.”

  The bed creaked. The mattress tilted sideways under her weight. I sat there, not moving, not thinking. I could see nothing in the blackness. I was wide awake and then the one thought was running through my head. Not Steffy. Please, not Steffy, not like this.

  Her hand touched my shoulder. I sat still, I didn’t want to move. She made a mewing sound, like a cat, and then she had lifted my hand to her lips and was kissing it.

  “Steffy,” I said. “Steffy?”

  And then her arms around my neck and the warmth of her against my chest, curled there; and I could smell that perfume in her hair and maybe she could feel my heart pounding too and she mewed again when I lifted her face and opened her lips with mine and burned with her, on fire, and found room to mumble, “I love you, Steffy, I love you…”

  And tasted the whisky on her lips.

  “Julia,” I said, shocked back to my senses. And I was suddenly glad, glad because it wasn’t Stephanie. But here I was in my brother’s house with my brother’s wife.

  “Goddammit, Julia,” I said.

  She got out of there and fled down the foyer without looking back at me. I suddenly smiled foolishly. And then I stopped smiling, locked the door, went back to bed and lay there, staring at the darkness and unable to go to sleep.