This Way for a Shroud

by James Hadley Chase

  “Well, what’s your reaction, Madge?” Conrad asked, smiling at her.

  “I was thinking that if you two are going to dig into Maurer’s past you’d better buy yourselves a couple of bullet-proof vests,” she said quietly. “And I’m not kidding.” Van Roche gave an exaggerated shudder. “How right she is. Trust our little Madge to put her finger on the weak spot. Well, I guess I’ll take out an insurance policy to cover my funeral. I’d like to be put away in style.” Conrad shook his head.

  “That’s the least of our worries. Maurer’s got beyond shooting cops. Ten years ago he wouldn’t have hesitated, but not now. He’s too much of a business man, and he has too much to lose to take chances. He knows shooting cops is about the one thing no one gets away with. No, I don’t think we have much to worn’ about on that score. We’ll be all right; it’s our witnesses we’ll have to protect, if we ever find any witnesses.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Van said, lighting a cigarette. “How do we start? What’s the first move?”

  “Nothing very exciting, I’m afraid,” Conrad returned. “Our first job is to make a review of the work we have in hand and see what can be shelved and what has got to be done. The D.A. said Maurer comes first, but we can’t just sling the other work into the trash-basket. Suppose we see what we’ve got? If we put our backs into it, we should be able to have a clear run by tomorrow morning. Madge, will you make a list of the important items and then we’ll get down to it?”

  Madge nodded and went briskly over to the filing cabinets. While she was getting out the more urgent files, Van went over to his desk and hurriedly inspected the files that lay in his pending tray.

  “What’s our first move against Maurer, Paul?” he asked as he flicked through the files.

  “Before we can hope to hook him up with June Arnot, we must prove they knew each other,” Conrad said. “We’ll have to work from June’s end. It might be an idea if you went down to Dead End tomorrow and checked every house and everyone you meet on the way. Make out you’re checking on Jordan. Try and get a description of anyone who went to see June regularly. With any luck we might get a description of Maurer along with the rest of them. Whatever you do, don’t mention Maurer’s name. We’ll tip our hand if we ask direct questions about him, and that’s the last thing we want to do.”

  Madge came over with a pile of files.

  “There’s more than I thought,” she said, putting them on Conrad’s desk, “but some of them aren’t immediately urgent.”

  “Let’s get at it,” Conrad said, slipping out of his coat. “Come on, Van, let’s see how hard you can work.”

  It wasn’t until nine-fifteen that night that the more urgent work had been cleared, and Conrad felt satisfied that he had at least four days ahead of him free to concentrate on Maurer.

  With a soft whistle of relief, he pushed back his chair.

  “I guess that’s it,” he said. That’s the last one, isn’t it?”

  Madge nodded. She took the file from Conrad, placed it on the top of the others and carried them over to the safe.

  Van Roche got up from behind his desk and stretched.

  “I don’t want another day like this,” he said feelingly. “Comrade Maurer would be flattered if he knew we’d worked this hard just for a chance of throwing a spanner in his works.”

  Conrad glanced at his watch.

  “Well, I’m going home. See you two here at nine tomorrow. We’ll get the plan working and see what we can do.” He picked up his hat and stood up. “Be seeing you, and get some sleep; you may need it.”

  It wasn’t until he got into his car and started the engine that his mind turned to Janey. He had ruthlessly refused to let himself think of her during working hours, but now he turned his attention to her.

  Why had she gone to the Paradise Club of all places? he thought angrily as he sent the car shooting along the deserted street. She knew Maurer owned the club, and she knew how Conrad felt about Maurer. Had she gone there deliberately to annoy him? And who had been the kind friend who had told Forest? Conrad wondered, his face hardening. “She wasn’t exactly sober.” That was a pretty nice thing to hear about your wife, and from your boss, too. “Have a word with her,” Forest had said. “She’ll listen to reason.” He certainly didn’t think Janey justified that observation. Listening to reason wasn’t Janey’s strong point, and Conrad wasn’t kidding himself he could persuade her to do something she didn’t want to do.

  When he opened the sitting-room door, he found Janey in an armchair flicking through a magazine. Her face was cold and sullen, and he saw at once how tense she was.

  Although he was a light sleeper, he hadn’t heard her come in the previous night, and when he got up in the morning, she hadn’t moved, although he was sure she had been awake.

  He decided to come to the point right away. There was bound to be a row: that was inevitable.

  He came over to the empty fireplace, and sat down in an armchair opposite to where Janey was sitting. “Janey…”

  “Well, what is it?” she said in her cold, flat voice. She didn’t look up.

  “You were seen at the Paradise Club last night.”

  He saw her stiffen and a sudden wary expression cross her face. She recovered immediately and looked up, her eyes plainly hostile.

  “So what? You were lucky I didn’t go to the Ambassadors. The Paradise is a lot cheaper.”

  “That’s not the point. You know as well as I do that Maurer owns the Paradise Club. What were you thinking of, Janey?”

  “Now look here, Paul, I’ve put up with a lot from you, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let you lecture me!” Janey said with violence. “You’re a nice one to preach! You come home at any hour and you sneak out at any hour. I don’t complain. Don’t imagine I don’t know what goes on in your office. That Fielding woman may be nothing to look at, but anyone can see she’s a sexy little bitch, and with a face like hers I suppose she lets you do what you like to her!”

  “Now look, Janey,” Conrad said sharply, “we’re not going to have that old red herring brought up again. I fell for it the first time, but not again. You’re trying to side-step the issue. Why did you go to the Paradise Club?”

  “That’s my business!” Janey flared. “And I’m not going to be cross-examined by you!”

  “But you can’t go there!” Conrad said, his voice suddenly angry. “You know as well as I do it’s Maurer’s headquarters. You’re making the department a laughing-stock by going there. Can’t you see that?”

  Janey giggled, but immediately her face hardened again as she pointed her chin at him.

  “Do you think I care a damn about your stupid department? If I want to go to the club, I’ll go!”

  “It was Forest who told me you have been there. Some kind person told him, and added you were drunk. How long do you imagine I’ll keep my job if you’re going to behave like that?”

  Janey suddenly went white, and her eyes flashed.

  “So your dirty little police force has started to spy on me, has it?” she cried. “I might have expected that. Well, you can tell your smug, blue-nosed boss from me to mind his own business! Neither he nor you nor anyone else is going to tell me what to do! And if you don’t like it you can go to hell!”

  She turned and went out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

  III

  As the City Hall clock was striking nine, Conrad walked briskly along the corridor to his office. He pushed open the door and entered, hanging his hat on the hat-stand without pausing on his way to his desk.

  Madge and Van Roche were already at their desks. Madge was typing busily. Van was scribbling notes on a pad, a cigarette in his mouth, his eyes screwed up to avoid the smoke as it spiralled past his face.

  “You’ve got a visitor, Paul,” he said, pushing the pad aside. He jerked his thumb to the door to the little ante-room that was used for interviews. “And you’ll never guess who.”

  Conrad put his brief-case on the desk and
reached for a cigarette from the box that stood by the telephone.

  “I don’t want to see any visitors this morning. Who is it?”

  “Flo Presser.”

  Conrad looked up sharply, his eyebrows climbing.

  “You kidding?”

  Van grinned.

  “Go ahead and see for yourself. Come to that you’ve only to take a sniff at the keyhole to have the fact confirmed. I reckon she must have had a bath of Last Night’s Kiss or whatever the stuff’s called. She fairly hums with it.”

  “Flo Presser? At this hour? What does she want?”

  “She’s lost her boy friend. She wants you to find him.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell her I was busy? Get rid of her, Van. I’ve got other things to do than to bother my head about her. Tell her to go to the police.”

  “Know who her boy friend is?” Van asked, his face suddenly serious.

  “No. Who is he?”

  “Toni Paretti.”

  Conrad frowned. The name sounded familiar.

  “Well, what about him?”

  “He happens to be Maurer’s chauffeur and bodyguard,” Van said quietly. “I thought maybe you’d want to talk to her.”

  Conrad took a long drag at his cigarette, then blew smoke to the ceiling.

  “That’s right; of course he is.” He got to his feet. “Did she give you any details?”

  “They had a date the night before last. He called her around five o’clock and told her he had a job to do. He said he would meet her at eleven o’clock at Sam’s Bar on Lennox Street. She waited until two o’clock, and then went home. Yesterday morning she kept calling his apartment, but couldn’t get a reply. She went round there in the afternoon. He wasn’t there. She asked around, but no one had seen him. She went to Sam’s Bar in the evening and waited, but he didn’t show up. This morning she decided something must have happened to him, so she’s come here.”

  “What does she expect us to do?”

  “She wants us to find him.”

  “Didn’t it cross her mind he’s tired of her and has walked out on her?” Conrad asked.

  “Didn’t seem to, and it didn’t occur to me either. I can’t imagine a rat like Paretti walking out on Flo. She’s a gold mine. It’s not as if she’s like the usual run of tarts. She makes money, Paul from what I hear: good money, and I can’t imagine Paretti passing up an income as good as she can provide.”

  “He could have found another girl,” Conrad returned. “But what foxes me is why should she come here. Why didn’t she go to the police?”

  Van concealed a grin.

  “That’s exactly what I asked her, and she said you were a gentleman and she trusted you. I won’t tell you what she said about the police.”

  Conrad sighed.

  “Well, I’m not going to waste much time on her.”

  He crossed the room, opened the sound-proof door that led into the anteroom.

  A blast of cloying perfume enveloped him as he stepped into the room, and he grimaced.

  Flo Presser was pacing up and down, a cigarette between her scarlet lips. She was a good-looking girl, around twenty-five, with a provocative figure, brassy blonde hair and big money-hungry eyes.

  She swung around as Conrad came in. Her full skirt swirled out and then moulded itself for a brief moment around her long slender thighs.

  “Hello, Flo,” Conrad said. He had met her often enough in the court room. She was regularly arrested for soliciting, and she had got to know most of the officials connected with the court. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Gee! Mr. Conrad,” Flo said, coming over to him. “I didn’t think you’d mind me coming like this. I’m worried stiff. I know I shouldn’t be bothering you. I know how busy you are. I thought I’d go nuts last night wondering about Toni, and this morning…”

  “Okay, skip the song and dance,” Conrad said impatiently. He sat on the edge of the table. “You shouldn’t have come here, Flo, but now you’re here, let’s keep it brief. What makes you so sure Toni hasn’t walked out on you?”

  Flo’s big brown eyes opened wide.

  “Walked out on me? Why, Mr. Conrad, he wouldn’t do that. Besides, I know he hasn’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  She hesitated, looking at him out of the corners of her eyes.

  “You’ll keep this to yourself, won’t you, Mr. Conrad? If Toni knew I’d come to you, he would skin me.”

  “How do you know he hasn’t walked out on you?” Conrad repeated.

  “I’m looking after his bank roll,” she said after a pause. “I shouldn’t be talking about it, but Toni wouldn’t go off leaving me with five grand, not that he ever would leave me.”

  Conrad looked at her, a sudden thoughtful expression in his eyes. She was right. He knew a little of Paretti’s record. If Paretti were going to leave Flo, he would make sure he collected his money first.

  “Do you imagine anything’s happened to him?”

  She nodded.

  “Something must have. He might have been run over or something.”

  “He was going to meet you the night before last: is that right?”

  “Yes. He called me around five and said he couldn’t meet me as arranged. He had a job to do.”

  “What was the job?”

  She shook her head.

  “He didn’t say.”

  “He told you he had a job to do and nothing else? What were his exact words?”

  “He said, “The boss wants me to do a job. I’ll see you at Sam’s Bar at eleven.” That’s what he said, and I haven’t seen him since.”

  “What time were you going to meet him before he put you off?”

  “Seven o’clock.”

  He studied her.

  “Why did you come to me, Flo?”

  Her eyes shifted away from his direct stare.

  “There wasn’t anyone else I could go to. I wouldn’t get any sense out of the coppers. They don’t like Toni anyway. I asked around and no one could tell me anything, and I got more and more worried and I thought of you. You’ve always been nice to me, Mr. Conrad, and I thought…”

  “Okay, skip it,” Conrad said. “Toni works for Maurer, doesn’t he?”

  A blank, remote expression came into Flo’s eyes. She half turned away to drop her cigarette into the trash-basket.

  “I don’t know who Toni works for. He’s never told me.”

  “Don’t give me that stuff. It’s Maurer, isn’t it?”

  She swung round to face him, her face hard.

  “I tell you I don’t know! Don’t start acting the copper with me, Mr. Conrad. I’ve always looked on you as a friend.”

  Conrad shrugged.

  “Okay, Flo. I’ll make some inquiries. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do. Where can I reach you?”

  Her face brightened.

  “I knew you would, Mr. Conrad! I said to myself…”

  “Where can I reach you?” Conrad repeated impatiently.

  “23c 144th Street. Why don’t you come up one night and see me, Mr. Conrad? I’ll give you a good time: honest I will, and it won’t cost you a thing.”

  Conrad laughed.

  “That’s no way to talk to a respectably married man, Flo,” he said, edging her to the door. “But thanks for the offer just the same.”

  “First time I’ve ever heard a married man was respectable,” she returned. “And I should know.” She paused in the doorway that led directly into the passage. “You’ll let me know as soon as you find out something, won’t you, Mr. Conrad?”

  “Sure. I’ll be in touch with you before long.” He edged her into the passage. “Be seeing you,” and he closed the door.

  “Pretty nearly gassed, weren’t you?” Van asked as Conrad came back into his office.

  “Yeah, pretty strong.” There was a hard, tense light in Conrad’s eyes. “Madge, have we got a file on Paretti?”

  “Yes.” Madge got up and went over to the filing cabinet. She
found the file and brought it over to Conrad.

  “Thanks.”

  He opened the file and settled down to read its meagre contents while Van watched him with alert interest.

  “Not much here,” Conrad said after a few minutes. “He’s had two convictions; neither of them amounted to much, and believe it or not, he’s been arrested twenty-seven times. Listen to this: seven arrests for homicide, twelve arrests for assault and robbery, four arrests for being in possession of drugs, one arrest for malicious mischief, one arrest for consorting with known criminals and one arrest for juvenile delinquency. He’s beaten the rap each time except for the juvenile delinquency and consorting with known criminal charges, and those two convictions stuck before he hooked up with Maurer.” He looked up to stare at Van. “There’s a note here that’s interesting. Paretti is a crack shot with a .45. That mean anything to you?”

  Van pursed his lips into a soundless whistle.

  “Are you trying to tic him up with the Dead End massacre?”

  “Work it out for yourself,” Conrad said quietly. “He had a date with Flo for seven o’clock the night before last: the night of the killing. Suddenly he cancels his date with Flo, telling her he has a job to do for his boss. We know who his boss is. At around seven on that night, eight people get wiped out: six of them by a .45.”

  “I can’t see Paretti hacking June’s head off,” Van said doubtfully. “That’s not his line.”

  “I’m not suggesting he killed June. I think he drove Maurer out to Dead End, and while Maurer was taking care of June, Paretti took care of the staff.”

  “For crying out loud! Maurer wouldn’t be so crazy as to kill June himself! He’s got dozens of thugs who’d do it for him.”

  “It’s my bet it was Maurer who did the job himself,” Conrad said, leaning forward, his elbows on the desk, his face in his hands. “I think he found out June was cheating on him, and he went haywire. I think he took Paretti and went up there and did the job.” He stubbed out his cigarette. “And I’ll tell you why I think so. He knew the risk he was running. Up to now he hasn’t made a wrong move. He hasn’t done a thing we can use to pin on him. Up to now every murder he’s planned has been carried out by one of his thugs who gets his instructions from some other thug so the trail will never lead back to Maurer. Okay, this time Maurer gets the bit between his teeth. This time he wants to even the score in person. This is a personal thing between June and him. He takes Paretti and goes up to Dead End. He’s known there, and he knows there must be no witnesses, no one must be left alive on the estate who can link his name with June’s or who might have seen him arrive. Paretti takes care of the staff while Maurer goes down to the pool, surprises June and hacks off her head.” He pointed a finger at Van. “Then what happens? There is still one witness left alive after the slaughter — Paretti. Isn’t that like Maurer? He wouldn’t trust his own mother. Paretti has worked for him for fifteen years, but he doesn’t trust him. So he takes care of Paretti, and it’s my bet Flo knows Maurer has taken care of him, and that’s why she came here. She’s too scared of Maurer to mention his name, but she’s no fool, and she must have hoped that by coming to me with this story, I’ll get around to what she’s driving at.”