Black Maria, M. A.: A Classic Crime Novel

by John Russell Fearn

  “I came,” Maria said calmly, “to compliment you on your voice. I heard it over the radio at home, came into town to have a look at the bright lights, and thought I might as well have a look in here as well.... Your ‘Alleluia’ was particularly fine.”

  “I’m so glad you liked it. It was dad’s favorite aria too, you know.”

  Janet seated herself and fussed with her hair before the mirror. Mary began to get busy with brush and comb.

  There came a sudden knocking on the door and at Janet’s call to enter a lean, hungry-faced man in evening clothes came in quickly. He paused and glanced at Maria then hurried over and caught Janet’s right hand.

  “Jan, you were magnificent tonight! You really were! The critics are saying that you are even better than on the last occasion—”

  “All right, all right,” Janet interrupted, rather irritably. “I know— Oh, you haven’t met my Aunt, Miss Black, have you? This is Mr. Montagu, Aunt, my manager....”

  Montagu bowed stiffly and Maria gave him a level gaze. She did not like him: she instinctively knew it. There was something about him that was wholly unattractive. Handsome, yes, in a synthetic sort of way. It was his obviously superficial warmth that was the least interesting thing about him. Perhaps he sensed Maria’s impression for he turned back to Janet.

  “Jan, you are not forgetting you are dining with me to­night?”

  “Not tonight, Monty; I made no promise.” Janet surveyed her reflection in mirror critically, then added, “To­morrow, perhaps.... Frankly, I’m tired. I want to get home early.”

  “You’re always going home early!” he objected. “Hang it all, I have some right to be with you, haven’t I? Unprofessionally?”

  “Have you?” She gave him a cool smile, then went on with her coiffure.

  He hesitated, then shrugged. “Well, all right—but I shall not be so lenient tomorrow night. Don’t forget that you have made a promise....” He turned, bowed again to Maria, then went out and closed the door with unnecessary force.

  “For a girl who is tired, you look remarkably radiant, my dear,” Maria murmured, rising to her feet.

  “You know the reason why I put him off, Aunt.”

  “You mean Mr. Wade?”

  “Of course. I don’t give two hoots for Montagu, though I guess I shall have to give him some sort of a break in case he gets sore. Yes, I’m going to see Peter tonight.... You had the car brought round, Mary?”

  “Waiting, Miss Black.”

  “And my other clothes laid in it?”

  “Everything is ready, yes.”

  “Rather a lot of subterfuge, isn’t there?” Janet looked up with a smile. “You see, I am driven as far as the East Side, changing on the way, then by the time I arrive I am a different person entirely, out­wardly that is.... It is odd sometimes what length a woman in love will go to, isn’t it?”

  “I have become aware of that quite forcibly during my stay. But frankly, I don’t blame you. But I would warn you to be careful in dealing with this Montagu person. I don’t like him.... And by the bye, I’m nearly forgetting why I really came over here tonight. While listening to your voice over the radio this evening, I was struck by a peculiarity in it when it reaches high C.”

  “Oh? I never—” Janet broke off with a cry of impatience. “Mary, what is the matter with you? Pick the brush up and get on with my hair. I’ll never be out to­night.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Black—I seem to be all thumbs....” The girl dived for the brush, then went on with her task rather jerkily.

  “You were saying?” Janet prompted, tugging off her flashing stage jewelry.

  “Your voice,” Maria said, “is very beautiful—but it is also very destructive. As an instance, you may like to know that you smashed some glassware at home to­night.”

  “I did?” Janet stared; then she snatched the hairbrush from Mary, gave her a bitter glance, and went on with the job herself. “My hair isn’t a horse’s tail!” she said hotly—then looking back at Maria, “is this some sort of a game, Aunt? I’ve been here all the evening. How could I—?”

  “Your voice has not been limited to here, Janet. Do you re­member that yesterday morning a wine glass was found smashed on the sideboard and you made the rather lame suggestion that Richard might have done it?”

  “Yes, yes, of course I remember.... Put my costume out, will you, Mary? You don’t mean, Aunt, that I broke the glass?”

  “Not on that occasion. Cresty imitated your Alleluia and did it instead. But tonight your own voice smashed a wine glass when you reached high C. I thought it might interest you.”

  Janet meditated for a long moment, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on Maria’s. Then she gave a little shrug and began to unhook her sequined gown.

  “I am interested, yes, but it doesn’t surprise me. It is a charac­teristic of many singing voices.... I guess mother will be sending me in a bill for broken glassware next. What do you think of it, Mary? Almost creepy, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Miss Black, it’s certainly very queer.” The girl did not look up: she was busy laying out Janet’s costume.

  “You’ll excuse me rushing, Aunt, won’t you?” Janet went on quickly. “I want to cram as much as possible into the spare time I have got— You’ve interested me quite a lot in your revelation about my voice. If I fall on hard times as a singer, maybe I can get a job as a vocal freak or something.”

  Maria gave a grave smile. “Maybe, Janet...maybe. Well, I will leave you to it. See you at home.... Good-night, Mary.”

  “’Night, madam.”

  Maria elbowed her way through the Press crowd again and out into the street. She caught a glimpse of a figure dodging back into the shadows, but motioned to him just in time. In the little back­water of humanity she drew Pulp on one side.

  “Still around, see!” he grinned. “Watching you, just as you wanted. How’s tricks?”

  “I’m still hunting, Mr. Martin—still hunting. Tell me, would you know Janet Black’s car if you saw it?”

  “Not ordinarily I wouldn’t—but I heard a girl come out and call for Miss Black’s car.... That’s it!” He nodded to a slender limousine parked against the curb. “Why? What’s the angle?”

  “As soon as my niece—that is Janet Black, of course—gets into that car I must follow it. I’ll need a taxi.”

  “Oke. Joey’s round the corner just in case. He was going to pick up theater people but you’re more important. I’ll be back....”

  He departed and returned within three minutes, pacing beside Joey’s taxi as it drew to the curb. Joey waved his hand in the air as he saw Maria, and she nodded back to him.

  All of a sudden there was a stir among the people outside the theater’s rear exit and Janet came hurrying out with Mary, the maid doing her best to keep the crowd aside. Pulp gave a sudden frown as he saw them under the bright lights.

  “Say,” he breathed, as Maria hurried to her taxi, “I’ve seen that dame some place before! Now she’s in the light I seem to remem­ber—”

  “Probably m the newspapers,” Maria answered briefly, climbing into the taxi’s rear seat.

  “No, I don’t mean—”

  “I’ve no time for your memories now, Mr. Martin. Later....”

  “Sure you don’t want me to come with you?” he asked urgently.

  “Yes, yes, I’ll be all right. See you again.”

  Janet’s car started off, leaving Mary on the pavement looking after it. Maria sat back in the taxi cushions and watched intently as Joey’s expert hands sent his vehicle flying through the midst of the night traffic in the wake of the limousine. It passed through the center of the town and finally drew up on the outermost parts of dingy East Side. Joey drew up perhaps five hundred yards away. Maria sat watching as Janet emerged, now in her former drab costume. She went away swiftly under the dim street lights.

  “Wait for me, Joey,” Maria ordered, climbing out.

  She dodged round a back street to avoid passing Janet’s car and
thereby contacting the chauffeur—probably the family one. That caused her to think a little too. Evidently the chauffeur was in on this as well, but if he was the right kind of chauffeur he would keep the girl’s trust implicitly. And anyway, he probably did not know the real implications behind his mistress’s behavior.

  Presently Maria picked up the girl’s trail again as she walked swiftly towards the misty reaches of the harbor. Maria’s main object in this pursuit, more or less decided on the spur of the moment, was to discover for herself exactly where Peter Wade resided. After that she could contact him personally at a more convenient time without anybody being the wiser.

  Janet’s walk was so swift it took Maria all her time to keep up with her. The trail led past all manner of buildings, provender stores, through dark and dismal alleyways full of shadows, along a deserted wharf beneath which the waters of the harbor slapped with oily swell. Out in the mist ships lay at anchor, lights rocking to and fro— And so to a cheap lodging-house overlooking the harbor. Maria saw Janet vanish through the open front doorway and promptly followed.

  She was in time to see the girl head up the dimly-lit staircase and finally stop at the second landing. Maria paused, watching from the concealment of the balustrade below. She saw a door open and Janet disappeared inside.... Maria relaxed, fanning herself, taking stock of her surroundings for future reference. Satisfied, her breath recovered, she returned to the outside again and began to retrace her way along the harbor wharf.

  She was perhaps halfway along it when she heard a sudden sound. She turned instantly, but in the dim light of the hidden moon could see nothing to account for it. She frowned continued on her way at a quickened pace, darting glances about her as she went— Then it came again—and there was no doubt about it this time. She swung round, and at the identical moment something like a sack dropped over her head and shoulders. She felt herself receive a mighty push—then the wharf was no longer there and she was falling helplessly through space. She landed finally with a smack in the harbor waters, fighting desperately to clear the sack or whatever it was over her head. From sheer desperation she accomplished it, stared above as she threshed the water desperately.

  For the briefest instant she caught a glimpse of somebody looking down at her—then the figure vanished abruptly.... Maria kicked and clawed frantically, weighted down by her clothes, her swimming days long over. She could feel herself slowly losing the battle as she was tugged by tremendous undercurrents— A wild shriek escaped her.

  Then there was a resounding splash within a few yards of her. She worked her way round and glimpsed a mighty arm and shoulder. A bullet head followed it. Within a few seconds Pulp came up, striking out forcibly, and caught her as she began to sink again.

  “Service!” he gulped, spitting out a mouthful of water. “That’s me, Black Maria! You don’t pay your money for nothin’ when you take on Pulp Martin.... Okay, hang on to me now and you’ll be all set....”

  Maria was gurgling so much she could not speak. She just left it to him and felt herself swept through the water until they reached the massive teak pillars under the wharf. Pulp climbed out on to the low built platform, dragging her up beside him. Shaking in every limb she straightened up, wiping back her saturated hair.

  “Thank—thank God you came, Mr. Martin! You saved—”

  “Aw, to heck with that....” He nodded to a flight of wooden steps leading upwards. “Inspection ladder,” he said. “One under every wharf. Up we go— Go on, I’m right behind you.”

  She nodded and began to climb with trembling legs. The moment she reached the top, she moved to the nearest capstan and leaned against it thankfully, wringing the water out of her cuffs. Pulp followed her a moment afterwards, retrieved his coat from further along the wharf, and threw it about her shoulders.

  “Can’t stop here,” he said earnestly. “You’ll catch cold. We’ve got to step on it. Joey’s waiting, and I know the quickest way to him. Come on!”

  She nodded and kept beside him as he hurried along.

  “Just how did you find me?” she asked presently.

  “Nothing to it. Didn’t you tell me never to leave you? Yeah, I know you said you’d be all right when you left the theater, but I figured I’d better keep on your tail. I got on the carriage rack of Joey’s cab: he’s had it made kinda wide for that purpose. Good job I did. You might have drowned down there.”

  “I would have drowned, Mr. Martin: that was the intention!” Maria’s voice was hard. “You didn’t happen to see who did it, I suppose?”

  “No. I shadowed you to that tenement dump, and then back along the wharf. I saw somebody dash out from the shadow with a sack or something and throw it over you. Before I could reach the guy—or, come to think of it, it could have been a dame—he saw me coming and ran for it. I figured it was you that needed help, so I dived— That’s all there is to it. Seems to me it might have been one of Ransome’s boys after you.”

  “Perhaps,” Maria muttered.

  “Who else then?” he asked grimly.

  “I don’t quite know for sure...but I have every reason to think that quite a few people are becoming uneasy about my ac­tivities—”

  Maria broke off with a thankful sigh as the taxi came into view. In the distance Janet’s limousine was still parked. Maria paused a moment, pondering, then she gave a shrug. She found Joey looking at her and Pulp in amazement.

  “What in heck have you been doin’—swimmin’?”

  “Take Black Maria home, double quick,” Pulp ordered, pushing her in the back of the cab and slamming the door. “Fast as you can, before she catches cold.”

  “Remind me to give you a bonus for this, Mr. Martin,” Maria smiled, handing him his coat. “You saved my life to­night.”

  “Aw, forget it. And take care of them lungs.”

  Thereafter Joey stepped on it to good effect, and whirled her home in record time. She gave him double his normal fare and hurried inside the house: the door was unbolted as usual in readiness for Dick’s early-hour return. Ten minutes after gaining her room, and without anybody being the wiser, she was warm and dry again. Wrapped in a dressing gown, she ate the supper that had been left for her, then took up her diary.... After a moment or two of grim reflection she began to write—

  “Without doubt Janet’s voice fired the gun which killed Ralph! Now I have absolute proof! Janet herself seems unmoved by my efforts to trap her into an unwary admission. Either she is indeed innocent, which seems improbable to me now, or else she is a consummate actress.

  “Whoever worked out the details of Ralph’s ‘suicide’ got most of the information from a book entitled Electrical Reactions. Now, anybody in the house could have obtained it—yet the two most obvious people to make use of it are Jean Conway and Richard. Janet also, if she really knows her voice is unique. These are the final points in the tangle:

  “Ransome’s typewriter spring is still unexplained.

  “Tonight somebody tried to drown me. It could have been one of Ransome’s men. If not, only two people are possible—no, three. Janet herself (who might have known I followed her to her fiancé’s lodging-house and tracked me as I returned); her maid Mary, who might have seen me leave in Joey’s taxi; and thirdly the chauffeur, who might have seen me prowling, though am doubtful of this. Altogether quite a few people are getting worried. But I am getting nearer—ever nearer.

  “Shall see Peter Wade on my own account.

  “Would remark some peculiarities about the radiogram which may stand checking. Why was the needle in middle of record?

  “The time is exactly—1:40 a.m.”

  Maria put her book and pen away, turned to the bed, and was asleep almost instantly....

  * * * *

  Daylight was just commencing to pale the windows when Maria awoke with a sudden start. Always a fairly light sleeper, she had been subconsciously aware of something peculiar going on in her room for some time. Now she awakened abruptly and sat up, switched on the bed light, and gazed
round her. She opened her mouth to ex­claim, closed it and snatched her bed-jacket.

  In front of the dressing table stood Joey, a revolver in his hand, and opposite to him in a chair, scowling bitterly, the waiter she had encountered in her activities at Maxie’s Dance Hall. For a moment Maria wondered if she were dreaming.

  “What—what on earth...?” she began; then she got a grip on herself. “Joey, what is the meaning of this?”

  He shrugged. “Pulp left me on night guard of the place while he went and dried off. Good job I was around because I saw this guy sneaking up to your window by the drain pipe. I followed him right up to the balcony outside your window here. He had his gun”—Joey raised it from the dressing-table complete with its silencer—“and was obviously figuring on letting fly at you when I stuck my own rod in his back. No sense in disturbing you, so as the window was a bit open, I thought we’d climb inside and wait until you woke up.”

  Maria’s jaw set squarely. She got into a sitting position, then eyed the waiter fixedly.

  “Well, what in heck are you starin’ at?” he demanded. “I didn’t do nothin’ to you, did I?”

  “Thanks to Joey, no! But you can explain this to the police, my friend—in detail.”

  “Wait a minute, lady—” The man got to his feet. “I ain’t got nothin’ against you personal. Honest! I was only doin’ what I’d been told to do, see?”

  “Which was to kill me!” Maria snapped. “Besides being a waiter and serving very indifferent lemonade at Maxie’s, you are also a strong-arm man for Ransome. Right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. When he was picked up, he told me off to find you since I’m the only guy who knows you by sight—”

  “Sit down!” Maria ordered, and he obeyed at a wave from Joey’s gun. “And keep your voice low,” she added curtly. “I don’t want the whole household to hear us.... Obviously then, it was you who tried to finish me off earlier to­night on that East Side wharf?”

  “Huh?” The man looked blank. “What wharf?”

  “You needn’t profess innocence, young man—”

  “Now wait a minute, lady! What do you think I am—an amateur? I use a rod or nothin’! I ain’t never been near no wharf.”