by Dell Shannon
***
Lieutenant Callaghan was a good deal less than mollified to be presented with such small fry as Tomas Ramirez; he had been lying hopefully in ambush for a certain big-time eastern wholesaler, and had-as he informed Mendoza bitterly-had a leash on Mr. Torres-Domingo and assorted friends for some time. What the hell good did it do to pick up a minnow like this Ramirez, who just ferried the stuff across the border in small lots? If Mendoza was interested, they had known about the Maison du Chat for quite a while, and a usually reliable source of information had led them to expect the wholesaler on the premises tonight, to set up a deal with Neddy, Mr. Torres-Domingo being the middleman. At nine o'clock they'd expected him, and so it was very probable that he'd been, maybe, a hundred feet away from the kitchen door when Mendoza's bright boy had got a little too close to the game and flushed it early. And so their chances of getting him now, or even another line on him, were just about nil.
And if Mendoza could remember back seventeen years to when, God help us and if this good-looking redhead here would believe it, he and Mendoza had been in the rookie school together, Mendoza just might recall that one of the first things they'd been told was that there were different divisions within any big-city police force. And that one division was sort of expected to play ball with the others, seeing that they weren't exactly in competition with each other.
"Well," said Mendoza mildly to that, "I suppose I could have checked with you first, certainly if anything definite had showed up-but Ramirez was only one of those vague hunches, you know."
"Sure, sure, we all know Mendoza's hunches! Second sight he's got, maybe a crystal ball, I wouldn't know, our little genius Luis Rodoffo Vicente Mendoza! One look, and he says, that naughty fellow's got a stack of H in his back pocket, and won't my good old friend Pat jump for joy to have a little of his work all done for him! Oh, he's a star, our Luis! Hey presto, and I've ended up with a couple of hired-salesmen punks I could've taken two months ago, instead of the real big boy-and our Luis thinks he does me a favor to give me this Ramirez!"
"Now when did I say so? It's the way the cards fall," said Mendoza philosophically. "These things happen. My crystal ball doesn! t always show me the right picture-"
"That you can say twice," said Callaghan. "Got you in trouble before-got you a bullet in the leg in that Brawley business, and right now, by God, I'm sorry it wasn't in the head! And I'll never know how you hypnotize these respectable, high-class, good-looking women to go round with you." He looked at Alison there in the drafty corridor outside his office at headquarters. "You look like a decent God-fearing Irish girl."
"Only on my mother's side-she was a McCann," said Alison solemnly. "And I think it's sheer surprise, Lieutenant-for any man these days who thinks he can still order us around, the dominant male, you know. By the time we've recovered enough to begin to talk back-"
"It's too late, I know." Callaghan shook his head at her. "You watch yourself. I've got another piece of advice for you, lady-whatever else you do with him's your own business, but don't ever get into a hand of poker with him. And seeing you've done about all the damage you can do tonight, Luis-on headquarters business, that is-I guess you can get out of my sight and take her home."
Mendoza rubbed his nose and said he wouldn't presume to teach Lieutenant Callaghan his job, but he did think that Ramirez-"
"Oh, get out, scat!" said Callaghan. "He's on his way here now, I sent two men after him while you were phoning your bright little boy's wife. I can't hold him on anything, unless one of these two involve him or we find the stuff in his possession-both of which are likely to happen. Not that I give a damn about him, but thank you so much for pointing him out, and now good night to you."
Mendoza grinned at him, said, "?Uno no puede complacer a todo el mundo! -one can't please everybody! Be good, Pat- hasta mas ver," and took Alison's arm down the hall to the elevator. "And now," he added, " la familia Ramirez is due for another shock."
"Yes, poor people. I must see them, to return half the tuition she'd paid, you know. I didn't like to blunder in the very day after, but I thought at the inquest I might have a chance to-"
"You haven't been subpoenaed, you notice. A very routine affair. Maybe twenty minutes-adjourned awaiting further evidence-that's how it'll go. Come if you like, but it'll be very dull, I won't be there."
"I'd like to think that was a non sequitur," said Alison, "but I'm afraid you didn't mean it that way. I suppose that ex-football-star sergeant will represent you. I think I will go. I've never been to an inquest and it's an excuse to take the morning off. Besides, I do want to see the family, only decent."
Mendoza looked at her and shook his head, getting out his car keys. "Occasionally I agree with Pat-astonishing how I seem to acquire these high-principled women."
"That," said Alison sedately, "is a very premature verb." And twenty minutes later, at her apartment door: "Don't forget those stockings. Size "Nine and a half, thirty-three inches, I'd guess it."
"Mmh, yes," said Alison, "and entirely too good a guess it is."
"Women, we never satisfy them-they don't like us too callow and they don't like us too experienced!" He laid a caressing hand round her throat. "I'd said to myself, very gentlemanly this time, maybe next time I'll kiss her good night, but I told you I'm always breaking resolutions… and sometimes even twice-or three times-if it seems like a good idea."
"Once was quite enough," said Alison rather breathlessly, pushing him away, "for three days' acquaintance!"
"So we figure it like compound interest, chica-I'll add up how much it comes to per week."
"Good night, mi villano optimists," said Alison firmly.
He smiled at the closing door; he never liked them too easy.
***
At about the same time that Alison Weir was struggling with the zipper of the oyster-silk sheath and reflecting that Lieutenant Callaghan's advice about watching herself was an excellent idea, Agnes Browne was standing in the cold dim rooming-house hall, shivering in just her slip and the cotton robe she'd tied round her when Mrs. Anderson called her to the phone.
"You shouldn't've," she kept saying, almost crying. "Hitting a policeman like that, Joe, it's terrible, they right've arrested you-you shouldn't go losing your temper like that."
"Well, they got a nerve, snooping around you just on account you found a body! What the hell they after, anyway? You didn't have anything to do- Listen, Agnes, I don't get it, Rita says there was a guy came up to her after work, another cop, asking about you-I guess she told you-I just got in, had to work late, and when she-"
"Oh, dear," whispered Agnes to herself. "I-I know, she called me.
…" Rita was Joe's sister who worked the same counter as Agnes, it seemed funny to think if she'd got that job at Kress's instead she'd never've met Rita or Joe, and it'd been just chance really-and she couldn't wish she hadn't, but-"Oh, dear." Asking questions about how long had she known Agnes, Rita said, and like that. They must suspect. "I-I don't know what they're after, Joe, but no call for you to get in trouble account of me, it's my own-"
"You got nobody to talk up for you, I guess your friends got a right to-"
"You mustn't," said Agnes in agony. "It's awful good of you, Joe, but you don't know-you-you better just not b-bother about me any more, because-" But she couldn't come out with it like that, over the phone, hear what he'd say, know what he'd think-she just hung up quick and went back to her room, shut herself in.
It'd been bad enough feeling guilty all the while, worrying, but when it came to getting your friends in trouble- Agnes dried her eyes and blew her nose and thought forlornly, Well, that's that. And serve her right too. Tomorrow morning, go to them and tell the truth-shame the devil, like her grandma used to say-and have it done with, that was all. Whatever they'd do to her for it. And afterward Joe and Rita and the others that'd been nice, that she'd like having for friends, they wouldn't want any more to do with her when they knew, but you couldn't expect different, she'd just ha
ve to take her medicine was all.
Better go to the store first, tell Mr. Snyder she was quitting, she'd have to anyway-and it'd mean finding another room too, because Mrs. Anderson wouldn't And it was silly, go on crying like this, when it was all her own fault….
TWELVE
The rookie who'd been riding the squad car that answered the call to Elena Ramirez' body was on night shift this week, and came into the precinct station on Main to check out at five past eight that morning, with his partner. They found the desk sergeant and a couple of the day men who'd just reported in guffawing over something on the sergeants desk.
"We got a present from an anonymous admirer, boys-ain't she purty? I guess somebody figures we're not getting enough feminine companionship."
The rookie went up to look, and it was a doll-an old, dilapidated, half-broken-apart doll lying there. A big one, good three feet long.
"Where the hell did that come from?" asked his partner.
"Vic found it propped up against the door when he came on just now."
"Like somebody'd sat it up there on purpose," said Vic. "The damnedest thing. Kids, I guess."
"Aughh," said the desk sergeant, "what some o' these punks think is smart! Here, Vic, stick it out back in the trash, will you?
"Just a minute, Sergeant," said the rookie. He had a funny feeling, looking at the thing; it was crazy, but- "Hey, Pete," he said to his partner, "does it kind of remind you of something? Look at the way it's got that one eye-I mean-it's the damnedest thing, but that dead girl over on Commerce, Saturday-you know. I mean-"
They all looked at it again and Pete said what about it, and the rookie said weakly, well, he'd just wondered if there could be any connection. "I mean, it's crazy, but maybe the boys downtown'd be interested-"
"In this?" said the sergeant. "Now that'd be something. I can just see myself calling headquarters, ask if anybody down there wants to play dolls."
"No, but-" The longer he looked at it, the funnier the feeling got. They had a little more backchat, the rest of them kidding him because that had been his first corpse and he hadn't acted as hard-boiled as maybe he should have; and the sergeant finally said, if he wanted to play detective so bad he could do it with his own dime and be sure and tell whoever he talked to it was strictly his own idea, none of the precinct's responsibility. They didn't think he'd have the nerve to do anything like that, but by then he was feeling stubborn about it, and he said all right, by God, he'd do just that, and got Vic to change a quarter for him and called downtown.
He got hold of Hackett after a little argument with Sergeant Lake, and in the middle of talking with him Hackett broke off to relay the news to Mendoza who'd just come in. The rookie hung on, listening to the lieutenant's exclamation in the background, and then jumped as Mendoza's voice came crackling over the wire: "Tell your sergeant I'm coming right around-leave it as it is, and stay there yourself-"
"Yes, sir!" said the rookie, but the wire was already dead. Ten minutes later Mendoza walked in and took a look at the doll before he remembered to throw a good-morning at the sergeant.
"?Vaya una donacion! " he murmured very softly to himself, and his very mustache seemed to quiver with excitement. "Now what does this mean? But by God, whatever it means, it's the one-no odds offered!" He swung on the sergeant. "Let's hear all about it!"
There wasn't much to hear, when they got down to definite details. It had been sitting up against the left side of the double doors, in a position where it wouldn't either interfere with that door's opening or necessarily be noticed, in the dark; this was an old precinct station, and the doors were set at the back of a recessed open lobby at the top of the front steps, which was temporarily unlighted due to defective wiring.
Consequently there was no terminus a quo; the thing might have been there since midnight and gone unnoticed by the various patrolmen going in and out during the night; or it might have been put there ten minutes before Vic found it, though it was likelier to have been before daylight.
And of course every man there had handled the thing, but it was no good swearing about that now. Mendoza demanded a sheet of wrapping paper and swathed the doll in it carefully; Prints would have to isolate any strangers from the precinct men, that was all.
So I've got you to thank for this," and he turned to the rookie, who was nearly as surprised as the sergeant. "What's your name?" The rookie told him. "I'll remember that, you showed intelligence. What struck you about it?"
"Well, I-it's crazy, Lieutenant, but the way it looked lying there, it reminded me of that dead girl-the eye and all-it was just a sort of feeling-"
"Yes. You're a good man. Any time you want to get out of uniform, when you're qualified, I'll be glad to put in a word for you."
The rookie, who had heard a little more about Mendoza by this time, stammered incredulous gratitude; the sergeant was struck dumb; and Mendoza walked out with the doll cradled tenderly in his arms. He could not resist showing it to Hackett before he delivered it to Prints; they looked at it lying there on his desk, mute, ugly, and enigmatic, and Hackett said, "I laid myself open-say it-I told you so."
"I'm magnanimous this morning. But that's the only thing I could say about it, boy-I'm just one big question mark about it otherwise. What the hell has it got to do with this?"
"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Ya veremos -I hope."
"Waiting for time to tell is just what we can't do, danm it. Take it down, will you?" While Hackett was gone he called Gunn's office.
"Morgan? He just got in-"
" Bueno," said Mendoza happuy. "I want him. Now. Immediately. Sooner. Apologies to take him away from his job, but I need him."
Gunn said resignedly all good citizens had a duty to aid the police when requested and he'd shoot him right over. Mendoza looked up another number and called it. "Mrs. Demarest? Lieutenant Mendoza. I want to see you some time today. I think we've got the doll, and I want your identification-if it is. Also Mrs. – Breen's… I don't know one thing about it except that I've got it-it just came out of the blue. Look, I won't ask you to come all the way down here, suppose you see if you can get hold of Mrs. Breen for some time this afternoon, and I'll bring it to your house. I probably won't get it back from Prints until noon anyway… Right, then, you'll call me back."
Waiting for Morgan, he called Callaghan in idle curiosity about Ramirez. They had found an ounce and a half of uncut heroin in a plastic bag taped to the underside of the bureau in his room at the Ramirez house, he had been taken into custody, and yes, Callaghan agreed that the rest of the family looked innocent enough but of course a check had to be made. And was what he heard in the background evidence of how they usually examined witnesses in Homicide because if so it ought to be reported to the Chief.
"I'm just about to find out," said Mendoza, and hung up. Somebody out in the anteroom was shouting angrily; he could hear Hackett saying, "Now take it easy," and a woman saying something else. He opened the door in time to see a little dark fellow take a swing at Hackett which almost connected. Hackett, looking as surprised as a Great Dane attacked by a belligerent Peke, held the fellow off with a hand on the chest and went on saying, "Take it easy now-"
The woman was Agnes Browne, and she was saying, "Joel- Oh, you mustn't-please, Jo-"
"What's all this about?" Mendoza plucked Joe off Hackett and swung him around. "Now calm down, all of you, come into my office and let's hear about it-Miss Browne, or it's Mrs. Browne, isn't it'
"No, it's n-not!" said Agnes desperately. "That's just what I came to tell you, sir-only I went to tell Mr. Snyder I was quitting first, and Rita would go and call Joe, and he has to come after and start all this ruction-he doesn't mean any harm, sir, please-"
"The hell I don't! I'd like to know what the hell you guys are up to, persecuting an innocent citizen what it amounts to and by God I'll see it carried to the Supreme Court if-you got no reason-just because she happened-"
"Oh, Joel They have. I-I couldn't tell you, but now I got
to-I came to confess and have it all done with, I know I've done awful wrong, sir, but please, Joe didn't know-"
Hackett said to nobody in particular, "I better apologize to Dwyer, I see how he came to walk into it." Joe stared at Agnes in astonishment and subsided, and Mendoza told them all to sit down.
"You want to confess what?" he asked Agnes.
She collapsed into a chair and began to cry. "I'm black!" They all looked at her. Hackett said, "Well, I'll be damned. You see, Luis, I told you-it was that sort of thing, nothing at all. Now we know… You don't look very black to me, Miss Browne."
"I am-it's the law-I-I know I don't look so-my mother was half white, sir, and my dad more'n half, they didn't either, I'm about an eighth I guess or something like that, and everybody always said I could pass, and I thought I'd-but I've felt just awful about it, I've never done anything against the law before, sir, I swear I haven't! I-I don't know if that counts, makes any difference to how long I'd maybe have to go to jail-"
"Nobody's going' to put you in jail!" said Joe.
"It's the law!" sobbed Agnes. "They know it's the law! And I gave a wrong address and all, I s'pose they found out and then of course they'd suspect something funny-"
"Well, now, I grant you we got some damn funny laws on the books," said Hackett, "but that's a new one to me, Miss Browne."
"It is the law, most states and I guess here too. I know it was wrong, sir." She emerged from her handkerchief to blow her nose. "It says anybody with any black at all who pretend-"
"Oh, that one," said Hackett. "I forget now, does it say it's a misdemeanor or a felony?" He looked at Mendoza.
"I seem to remember it says misdemeanor," said Mendoza, "but offhand I wouldn't know whether the mandatory sentence is thirty or sixty days. A judge-"
"Now listen," said Joe.
"A judge might have a little trouble finding the latest precedent, somewhere around 1900 I should think."
"They leave all that stuff in to make life hard for law students," said Hackett. "There're some a lot funnier than that."
