by the Jury I
Pat came at me from across the room. “What about the back?” he asked breathlessly.
“Nothing doing. He didn’t go that way.”
“Then the killer is in here. I couldn’t find a place even a mouse could get out. The streets are blocked and I got some men behind the houses.”
“Let’s go over the gang here,” I said.
The both of us went down the rows of seats looking over the faces that didn’t want to be seen. There was going to be a lot of fixing done tomorrow if some of these jokers didn’t want to lose their happy homes. We searched every face. We were looking for George Kalecki, but he either got out in time or never was there.
Neither was the madam.
The homicide boys arrived and we went to Eileen’s room. They found what I expected them to find. Nothing. Downstairs I could hear the anguished wails of the girls and the louder voices of some of the men yapping in pretty determined tones. How the commissioner was going to get around this was beyond me. When the pics were taken Pat and I took a good look of what was left of Hal Kines. With a pencil I traced a few very faint lines along his jaw line.
“Very neat, isn’t it?”
Pat shot a quick look at me. “Neat enough, but tell me about it. I know who, but not why.”
I had difficulty keeping my voice under control as I spoke. “Hal isn’t a college kid. I caught that when I saw a shot of him and George against the background of the Morro Castle, but I never fitted it in. This bastard was a procurer. I told you George had his finger in the rackets. I thought it was the numbers, but it turned out to be more than that. He was part of a syndicate that ran houses of prostitution. Hal did the snatch jobs, oh, very subtly, then turned them over to George. It wouldn’t surprise me if Hal had been the big cheese.”
Pat looked more closely at the lines on his face and pointed out a few more just under his hairline. They were hard to see because the blood had matted the hair into a soggy mass.
“Don’t you see, Pat,” I went on. “Hal was one of these guys who looked eternally young. He helped nature a bit with a few plastic-surgery operations. Look at those yearbooks we found, every one from a different college. That’s where he got his women, small-town girls going to an out-of-state school. Knocks them up, puts the squeeze on them and here they are. God knows how many he got from each place. I bet he never spent more than one semester in a place. Probably worked out a scheme for falsifying his high-school records to gain admittance, then got busy with his dirty work. Once he had the dames, they couldn’t get out of it any more than a mobster can break away from the gang.”
“Very cute,” Pat said, “very cute.”
“Not too,” I told him. “This wrecks my theory. I had him slated for the first kill, but I know now he didn’t do it. Jack got on to him somehow, and either Hal saw the books in his apartment and caught wise or the other one did. This was why Jack wanted the place raided tonight, before this could happen. He knew Hal would be here and he wanted him caught with his pants down. If I had taken his advice Eileen might have been alive.”
Pat walked over to the wall and dug the slug out of the plaster with a penknife. The one in Eileen hadn’t gone all the way through; the coroner was busy dislodging it. When he had it out he handed it to Pat. Under the light Pat examined them carefully before he spoke. Then, “They’re both.45’s, Mike. And dumdums.”
He didn’t have to tell me that. “Somebody sure likes to make sure they stay dead,” I said through tight lips. “The killer again. There’s only one. The same lousy bastard that shot Jack. Those slugs will match up sure as hell. Damn,” I spat out, “he’s kill crazy! Dumdums in the gut, head and heart. Pat, I’m going to enjoy putting a bullet in that crazy son of a bitch more than I enjoy eating. I’d sooner work him over with a knife first.”
“You’re not going to do anything of the sort,” Pat remarked softly.
The coroner’s men got the bodies out of there in a hurry. We went downstairs again and checked with the cops who were taking down the names and addresses of the people. The patrol wagon was outside and the girls were loading into it. An officer came up to Pat and saluted him.
“No one got through the line, sir.”
“Okay. Have some men hold and the rest search the alleyways and adjacent buildings. Make everyone identify himself satisfactorily or arrest them. I don’t care who they are, understand?”
“Yes, sir.” The cop saluted and hurried away.
Pat turned to me. “This madam, would you recognize her again?”
“Hell, yes. Why?”
“I have a folder of persons convicted or suspected of running call houses at the office. I want you to look them over. We got her name from the girls, or at least the only name they knew her by. She was called Miss June. None of the guests here knew her at all. Half the time one of the girls answered the door. She always came herself if the proper signal wasn’t given.”
I held Pat back a moment. “But what about George Kalecki. He’s the guy I want.”
Pat grinned. “I have the dragnet out for him. Right now a thousand men are looking for the guy. Think you stand a better chance?”
I let that one ride. Before I went looking for George Kalecki I wanted to do a few other things first. Even if he was the killer, there were others behind the racket that had to be nailed and I wanted them all, not just the trigger puller. It was like a turkey dinner. The whole outfit would be the meal, the killer the dessert. I wish I knew how Jack had gotten the lead on Hal. Now I would never know.
But Jack had connections. Maybe he had run across Hal before, or knew Kalecki’s end of it and suspected the rest, and when he met up with Eileen, put two and two together. A guy that operated as long as Hal had couldn’t cover himself completely. There had to be a break in the trail somewhere. Whatever Jack did, he did it fast. He knew right where to look to find John Hanson, and he found him the way we did and maybe plenty more times—in the yearbooks of the colleges.
Even if Hal killed Jack, how did his own murderer get the gun? That weapon was as hot as the killer and not a toy to be passed around. No, I didn’t think Hal killed Jack. He might have spotted the books and told someone else. That would be the killer. That was what the killer was after. Or was it? Maybe it was just incidental. Maybe the killer only had a remote tie-up with Hal. If that was it Jack was killed for another reason, and the killer, knowing there still was the bare possibility of being traced through that tie-up, didn’t take the chance and swiped the books to keep Hal clean.
And where the hell did that leave me? Right up the creek again. I couldn’t sit back and wait for something to happen again and work from there. Right now I had to start thinking. Little things were beginning to show their heads. Not much, but enough to show that behind it all was a motive. I didn’t see it yet, but I would. I wasn’t after a killer now. I was after a motive.
I told Pat that I was going home to bed and he wrote me a pass to get through the police lines. I walked down the street and gave the note to a red-faced cop and went on. A cruising cab came by and I grabbed it to Jack’s apartment. My buggy was still outside, and after I paid off the cabby I got in my own heap. There was a lot of work to do tomorrow and I needed some sleep.
Twenty minutes later I was home in bed smoking a cigarette before I went to sleep, still thinking. I couldn’t get anywhere, so I crushed out the butt and turned over.
My first stop after breakfast was Kalecki’s apartment. As I expected, Pat had been there before me. I asked the cop on duty at the entrance if there was any message for me and he handed over a sealed envelope. I ripped the flap open and pulled out a sheet of paper. Pat had scrawled. “Mike ... nothing here. He pulled out without bothering to pack a bag.” He signed it with a large “P.” I tore the note up and dumped the pieces in a trash basket outside the apartment house.
It was a fine day. The sun was warm and the streets full of kids making a racket like a pack of squirrels. I drove to the comer and stopped in a cigar store where I put in a call to Charlot
te’s office. She wasn’t there, but her secretary had been told to tell me that if I called, I could find her in Central Park on the Fifth Avenue side near 68th Street.
I drove in from the cutoff on Central Park West and drove all around the place, circling toward Fifth. When I came out I parked on 67th and walked back to the park. She wasn’t on any of the benches, so I hopped the fence and cut across the grass to the inside walk. The day had brought out a million strollers, it seemed like. Private nurses in tricky rigs went by with a toddler at their heels, and more than once I got the eye.
A peanut vendor had just finished giving me change when I saw Charlotte. She was pushing a baby carriage toward me, waving her hand frantically to catch my attention. I hurried up to her.
“Hello, kitten,” I said. It made my mouth water to look at her. This time she had on a tight green suit. Her hair resembled a waterfall cascading over her collar. Her smile was brighter than the day.
“Hello, Mike. I’ve been waiting for you.” She held out her hand and I took it. A firm grip, not at all like a woman’s. Without letting go I hooked her hand under my arm and fell behind the carriage. “We must look like the happiest newlyweds in the world,” she laughed.
“Not so new,” I said, motioning toward the carriage. Her face flushed a little and she rubbed her head against mine. “How come you’re not working?” I asked her.
“On a day like this? Besides, I don’t have an appointment until two, and a friend asked me if I would mind her child while she attended to some business.”
“Like kids?”
“I love them. Someday I’m going to have six of my own.”
I whistled. “Wait up, take it easy. Maybe I won’t make that much money. Six mouths are a lot to feed.”
“So what, I’m a working girl, and, er, is that a proposal, Mr. Hammer?”
“Could be,” I grinned. “I haven’t been pinned down yet, but when I look at you I’m ready to be.”
If the conversation had gone any further there’s no telling where it would have wound up. But I got back to the case again. “By the way, Charlotte, have you seen the morning papers?”
“No, why?” She glanced at me curiously.
“Hal Kines is dead.”
Her jaw dropped and wrinkles of amazement appeared in her forehead. “No,” she breathed heavily. I took a tabloid out of my back pocket and showed her the headlines. I could see that she was taken aback. “Oh, Mike, that is terrible! What happened?”
I pointed toward an empty bench. “Can we sit down a few minutes?”
Charlotte consulted her watch and shook her head. “No,” she told me, “I have to meet Betty in a few minutes. Tell you what, walk me to the gate, then we can drive back to my office for a few drinks after I meet her. You can tell me on the way.”
I went through the entire previous evening without omitting a detail. Charlotte listened carefully without once asking a question. Her mind was trying for the psychological aspect of it. I had to stop near the end. Betty was waiting for her. After the introduction, we had a few minutes’ chat and said good-bye to Betty, who walked off with the baby.
We went in the other direction, following the stone wall of the fence to 67th. I don’t think we had gone more than ten feet, when a car pulled abreast of us. No time to think. I saw the ugly snout of the gun sticking out the window and landed in a heap on Charlotte. The bullet smashed against the wall waist high, throwing rock splinters in our faces. George Kalecki didn’t have time for a second shot. He threw the car into gear and went tearing down Fifth Avenue. If it had worked it would have been perfect. No other cars around to give chase. For the first time, not even a taxi.
I picked Charlotte up and dusted her off. Her face was white and shaken, but her voice was steady enough. Two strollers came hurrying up, thinking we had fallen. Before they reached us, I got the slug from the dirt under the wall where it had dropped. It was a .45. I thanked the two who tried to help us, explaining that we had tripped, and we went on.
Charlotte waited a moment, then said: “You’re getting close, Mike. Somebody wants you out of the way.”
“I know it. And I know who that was—our friend, Kalecki.” I gave a short laugh. “He’s scared. It won’t be long now. That skunk is ready to break any minute. If he weren’t he wouldn’t make a play for me in broad daylight.”
“But, Mike, please don’t laugh about it. It wasn’t that funny.”
I stopped and put my arms around her shoulders. I could feel her trembling a little. “I’m sorry, darling. I’m used to being shot at. You might have gotten hit, too. Let me take you home, you’ll have to change your clothes. That spill didn’t do you much good.”
Charlotte didn’t speak much riding home. She started to, but stopped. Finally I said, “What is it, Charlotte?”
She frowned a little. “Do you think it was because of the rash promise you made to Jack after he was killed that Kalecki wants you out of the way?”
“Maybe. That’s the best reason I know of. Wh y. ?”
“Could it be that you know more than anyone else concerning this whole affair?”
I thought that over a moment before I said, “I don’t think so. The police have every bit of information I have except, perhaps, the incentive and the personal insight I picked up.”
We drove on in silence after that. It was nearly ten o’clock when we got to the apartment. We went up the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator and rang the bell. No one came to the door and Charlotte fumbled for her key. “Damn,” she said. “I forgot this is the maid’s day off.” We went inside and the bell rang again when we opened the door.
“Make a drink while I shower, Mike.” Charlotte laid a bottle of bourbon on the coffee table and went into the kitchen for some ice and ginger ale.
“Okay. Do you mind if I use your phone first?”
“Not at all. Go right ahead,” she called back.
I dialed Pat’s number and had to wait for the operator to go through a half-dozen extensions before he finally located him. “Pat?”
“Yeah, Mike, go ahead.”
“Get this. Kalecki didn’t take a powder, he’s still in the city.”
“How do you know?”
“He tried to dust me off a little while ago.” Pat listened intently as I gave him the details. When I got through, he asked:
“Did you get the number of the car?”
“Uh-uh. It was a late model Caddy, about a ’41. Dark blue with lots of chrome. He passed me going toward the city.”
“Swell, Mike, I’ll put it on the air. Have you got the bullet with you?”
“Hell, yes. And it’s a .45, too. Better get ballistics to check it. This one wasn’t a dumdum, though. Just a nice normal slug. Suppose I drive down to see you this afternoon.”
“Do that,” Pat answered. “I’ll be here the rest of the day unless something breaks.
“And one other thing, Mike,” he added.
“Yeah?”
“We checked the slugs that killed Kines and the Vickers woman.”
“They came from the same gun? The one that...”
“Right, Mike. The killer again.”
“Damn,” I said.
I hung up and took the slug from my pocket. Maybe it would match, maybe not. I was thinking of the rod Kalecki had in his luggage under his bed. And he had a permit for it too, he said. I wished now that I had taken that gun along to compare it in a ballistics box instead of leaving it to my sense of smell and sight to determine whether or not it had been fired recently.
I wrapped the hunk of metal in a wad of paper and stuck it in my pocket, then whipped up a pair of highballs. I called out to Charlotte to come and get it, but she yelled for me to bring it in to her.
Maybe I should have waited a second, or knocked. I did neither. Charlotte was standing beside the bed completely naked. When I saw her beautiful body that way my blood boiled inside me and the drink shook in my hand. She was more beautiful than I imagined. So damned smooth. Sh
e was more startled than I. She made a grab for the robe on the bed and held it in front of her, but not before I saw a blush suffuse her entire body.
She was having as hard a time getting her breath as I was. “Mike,” she said. Her voice trembled slightly when she spoke, and her eyes never left mine. I turned my back while she slipped into the robe, then turned back and handed her the drink.
Both of us finished them in one draught. It added nothing to the fire that was running through me. I felt like reaching out and squeezing her to pieces. We put the glasses down on the dresser top. We were awfully close then. One of those moments.
She came into my arms with a rush, burying her face in my neck. I tilted her head back and kissed her eyes. Her mouth opened for me and I kissed her, hard. I knew I was hurting her, but she didn’t pull away. She returned that kiss with her lips, her arms and her body. She was on fire too, trying desperately to get close to me through space that wasn’t there any more.
I had my arm around her shoulders and my hands fastened in her hair, crushing her to me. Never before had I felt like this, but then, never before had I been in love. She took her mouth away from mine and lay in my arms, limp, breathing heavily, her eyes closed.
“Mike,” she whispered, “I want you.”
“No,” I said.
“Yes. You must.”
“No.”
“But, Mike, why? Why?”
“No, darling, it’s too beautiful to spoil. Not now. Our time will come, but it must be right.”
I put my arm under her and carried her out of the room. If I stayed in that bedroom any longer I couldn’t have held on to my sanity. I kissed her again as she lay in my arms, then put her down outside the bathroom door and mussed her hair. “Go take your shower,” I said in her ear.
She smiled at me through sleepy eyes and entered, then closed the door softly. I picked up the glasses, and for a brief second eyed the bed, longingly. Maybe I was a damned fool, I don’t know. I went on into the living room.
I waited until I heard the shower running before I picked up the phone. Charlotte’s secretary answered promptly with the usual hello.
