1945 - Blonde's Requiem

by James Hadley Chase

  I kept on counting the numbers . . . 29, 31, 33, 35 . . . and then I stopped in front of a house which was half hidden by an overgrown hedge. On one of the gateposts a 3 and a 7 of pale metal caught what light there was. A square white card was nailed to one of the posts. Putting my face close to the card, I could see that it was a Sale or Rent sign.

  I pushed open the gate and went up the cement walk to the house. I stood still on the walk at the foot of the porch steps for a long moment. My heart was thumping uneasily and I had the kind of sickish feeling one has when one is going to have a tooth drawn. No sound came from the house, which was dark except for another pale square card nailed on its door.

  I moved silently to the door and listened. I could hear nothing. I went to a window and then to another. I tried both windows and the door. They were all locked.

  I stood there wondering what to do. Had Marian come to this empty, lonely-looking house? Had she entered or had she gone away when she found no one was living in it? I wasn’t taking any chances. I had to get in and see for myself.

  I fiddled with one of the windows and slipped back the catch. The window went up slowly with my push and didn’t make much noise doing it. I peered into the darkness and smelt the dank, musty smell of a room that hadn’t been occupied for a long time.

  With my gun in my right fist I stepped over the sill, down into the room. The bare boards creaked under my weight and the air in the room stifled me.

  A full minute of breathless listening got me nothing. Holding my gun ahead of my body, I began exploring the joint. Nothing but the floor came under my feet as I edged my way forward. My groping left hand felt nothing until it touched a wall from which hung strips of wallpaper which rustled under my fingers. I seemed to have crossed a room that was empty.

  I moved along the wall, hunting for a door. Half a dozen of my undersized steps brought me to one. I leaned against it, listened and heard nothing.

  I found the knob, turned it softly and eased the door back. As I stood peering into the darkness, trying to get my eyes used to the murk, I heard a car coming down the street. It was travelling slowly, and as it approached the house it slowed right down, finally stopping outside.

  Four quick strides took me to the window. I could see the outline of the taxi, but it was now too dark to see anything more. I caught a glimpse of a figure getting out of the taxi and the cab door slammed. Then the figure came hurrying up the cement walk. A moment later a key turned in the lock and the front door opened.

  I slid across the room to the door and stood behind it. I heard the front door close and footsteps sounded in the lobby. A light showed under the door and the doorknob rattled. Then the door opened and I smelt lilac.

  I wasn’t surprised. I guessed it was Audrey Sheridan as she came up the cement walk. Keeping close to the wall, I shoved my gun into my hip pocket and waited for her to come in.

  The beam of the flashlight crept around the peeling walls. A large spider with gigantic legs scurried away from the light, lost its hold on the wall and fell with a little plop to the floor.

  I heard Audrey catch her breath in a shudder of horror. I grinned to myself.

  She was going to get a bigger scare than that.

  Then she was in the room. I could see her clearly outlined against the beam of the flashlight. She was trousered and her hair was caught up in a silk handkerchief.

  I didn’t give her a chance to get set, but launched myself at her knees.

  She gave a little scream as we went down together. For a minute we were a silent tangle of kicking legs and flailing arms. I was scared stiff she’d start some of her jiu-jitsu stuff, so every time she tried to free her arms I smothered her, by lying across her face and pinning her arms to the floor.

  “Sister,” I said, “you’ll save yourself a lot of damage if you’ll relax.”

  Instead, she bit my chest and I yelped, pulling away from her.

  She got one hand free and it swished past my face with force; as it came back again, I grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm behind her. Then pulling her up, I turned her over and slammed her face down on the floor. I jammed my knee between her shoulders and nailed her.

  “Behave yourself,” I panted, “Or I’ll really get tough with you.”

  I heard her catch her breath and she relaxed. “You’re hurting me,” she said in a small voice.

  I didn’t ease up. “It’ll be a change,” I said, sitting across her knees, but still holding her arm screwed up behind her right shoulder blade. “The last time we had a romp, you tossed me against a brick wall.”

  “And I’ll do it again,” she said, her voice suddenly furious. “Let me go, you big beast!”

  “Start whenever you’re ready,” I said casually, and put on a little pressure.

  She gave a cry. “Don’t!” she implored. “You’re hurting!”

  “It’s about time you met someone your own weight,” I told her. “You’ve been having it all your own way. Now, you talk, or I’ll tear your arm off!”

  “You and who else?” she asked, and giggled.

  I also had to grin. “Are you going to behave?” I asked. “Will you sit up and be a good girl if I let you?”

  “I’ll sit up when I like and I’ll behave as I like,” she said defiantly, “and it’ll take more than a big jerk like you to stop me!”

  I put my hand on her head and pushed her nose on the floorboards.

  “Don’t talk so big,” I said, “or I’ll dust the whole of this joint with you.”

  God knows what happened then. She suddenly heaved and next second I was lying on my back with my neck caught between her ankles and she was putting on a squeeze that pretty near throttled me.

  I’d done a little all-in wrestling in my time and that was something I understood. I had her shoe off and was among her toes before she knew what I was at. She broke the lock and wriggled away from me and for a moment I lost her in the darkness.

  I sat up panting, my ears pricked, waiting for her to jump me.

  Then suddenly she laughed. “Pax,” she said. “Please, pax.”

  “Sure,” I said. “These little bouts with you are shortening my life. It isn’t natural for a girl to be so rough. Come and sit down beside me. And if you don’t keep your hands to yourself, I’ll call a cop.”

  I heard her move towards me and then the flashlight went on. I turned and found her behind me. I also found I was sitting on a floor inches thick with dust and I hurriedly got to my feet.

  We stared at each other in the beam of the flashlight. We were both covered in dust and Audrey’s face was smeared with long streaks of dirt.

  “I guess we do look a couple of bums,” I said. “What do you think you’re doing here?”

  “I might ask you that,” she returned, “but I’m not inquisitive. Let’s say hello and good-bye without any further talk.”

  “No,” I said. “This nonsense has been going on too long. You’re not leaving here until you promise to give me that picture of Dixon you pinched off me. It’s entirely due to you I’m getting nowhere in this case. If I had that picture I’d have found the girls by now.”

  “Oh no, you wouldn’t,” she said, keeping just out of my reach. “You think you could have forced Starkey into the open with it, don’t you? Well, I’ve tried, and it didn’t work.”

  “You tried?” I exclaimed. “You mean to say you were crazy enough to tell Starkey you’ve got it?”

  She nodded. “I’m afraid so,” she said ruefully. “That’s why I’m lying low for a while. I didn’t think he’d dare to start anything with me.”

  “I bet you’ve found out different,” I said grimly. “It beats me you’re still alive.”

  “I know he’s kidnapping these girls,” she said in a quick burst of confidence. “And I thought I’d make him produce them if I threatened him with the picture.”

  “Well, you’re wrong,” I said. “Starkey hasn’t anything to do with the kidnappi
ng. I’m sure of that. All you’ve done is to put yourself in a hell of a spot.”

  “I tell you he must be at the bottom of it,” she said almost angrily. “It’s the kind of thing he’d do. I’m sure you’re wrong.”

  “Okay, skip that for a minute,” I said impatiently. “Tell me what you’re doing here. I’m looking for Marian French.” I snapped my fingers impatiently. “But of course you wouldn’t know her.”

  “Yes, I do,” Audrey returned quickly. “She’s a new member of the Gazette’s staff.”

  I scowled at her. “Yeah; now you tell me what you’re doing here.”

  “I saw her picture in the Street-Camera window this afternoon. So I thought I’d come out here just to prove to myself that Starkey is connected with the kidnapping.”

  “But why here?” I asked, puzzled. “She did come here, because I found the address in her room, but how did you know?”

  She looked at me uneasily. “This is the house where they found one of the girls’ shoes,” she told me. “I’ve been watching it off and on for days, and when I saw them put Marian French’s picture in the window I had a hunch to come out here. So I got the key from the agent and—and here I am.”

  I felt suddenly spooked. “We’ve wasted enough time already,” I growled. “Come on, we’re going to take a look at this joint. Give me your flashlight.”

  Together we went into the gloomy lobby. Ahead of us were stairs. Wallpaper hung in strips and great patches of damp stains showed on the walls.

  I pulled my gun and began to walk softly up the stairs. They creaked under my weight. Audrey followed me and we reached the first landing. Three doors faced us. In the second room we found Marian French. She was sprawled on the dusty floor. Her hands still clawed at the cord wrapped and knotted about her throat, Her eyes stared, glassily. Her face was distorted with agony and congested with blood. Her simple blue and white check frock was covered in dust and torn from one white shoulder. She was dead. There was no possible doubt about that.

  There was nothing I could do for her. Marian French was dead.

  I heard Audrey catch her breath and I put my hand on her arm, but couldn’t say anything. I was bewildered, stunned.

  We stood looking down at the pathetic but dreadful-looking body for several minutes and then Audrey put her hands to her face and screamed, making a soft, far-away sound of shocked fear. I gripped her arm tightly.

  “Steady,” I said softly. “Get a grip on yourself. There’s work to be done.”

  She turned away from the body. “I’m all right,” she said through gritted teeth. “It—it just—this is dreadful, isn’t it?”

  I grunted and walked over to where Marian lay. Not looking at her twisted, distorted face, I touched her shoulder. Her flesh was cold and wax-like to my touch and I stood away and cursed softly.

  “Whoever did this’ll burn,” I said, half to myself. “I’ve fooled around long enough on this job, but now I’m going to start something.” I jerked around and grabbed Audrey by her arm. “You know what this means, don’t you?” I said viciously. “The technique’s the same. Those four other girls went the same way. You can bet your life on that. Are you going to help me find the swine who’s doing this or are you still sticking to your precious little Agency?”

  She met my angry, challenging look. “I deserved that,” she said, quietly. “But I did think Starkey was at the back of it and I did think I could handle it. I’ll help you if you want me to.”

  “Swell,” I said, pushing her to the door. “Come on, we have to get the cops.”

  “Will that do any good?” she asked.

  “Macey must see for himself. He can’t back out of this now. We’ll split the town wide open. Come on, let’s get to a telephone.”

  Together we left the house, slammed the front door and ran across to a house opposite. I kept my thumb on the bell push until a fat little man in his shirtsleeves jerked open the front door and glared at me.

  “Where’s the fire?” he demanded, thumbing a scrubby moustache and staring at Audrey’s dirty face with disapproval.

  “There’s been a murder across at 37,” I told him. “I want to use your phone.”

  His eyes popped. “Murder?” he repeated. “Who? At 37? Why, it’s empty.”

  I elbowed my way into the house. “I want to get the police,” I said. “Where do I find the phone?”

  He showed me, and as I was dialling a woman came out of the sitting room and stared at Audrey and then at me.

  The fat little man said: “They say there’s been a murder at 37.” He was getting quite a bang out of it.

  The woman—fiftyish, grey hair and stiff—eyed Audrey steadily and said, “Nonsense. Send them away,” and went back into the sitting room.

  “You’ll have to go,” the little man said miserably. “She thinks you’re drunk. I know. I can tell by the way she looked at you.”

  “Nuts,” I said, then as a voice growled ‘Police Headquarters’ in my ear, I asked for Beyfield.

  He came on the line after a moment’s delay. “Grab the wagon and come over here fast,” I told him. “I’m reporting a murder at 37 Victoria Drive.”

  “Who’s speaking?” he demanded in his rumbling voice.

  “Deanna Durbin,” I said, and hung up.

  The little man had the front door open and was waiting for us to go, but I took no notice of him. I dialled the number Reg Phipps had given me and when I heard him come on the line I broke the news as gently as I could. I could tell at once the kid was upset, but he was too much of a newspaperman to waste time with words.

  “We’ll get that son of a bitch,” he said. “If you don’t, I will.”

  I said we’d get him all right. “Come down here, Reg,” I said, “and bring Latimer if you can find him. He’s checking on Starkey, and you pick him up with any luck at Lefty’s. I want him to take Miss Sheridan, to a hotel and sit with her until we’re through with this.”

  He said “Okay” and hung up.

  Audrey looked at me kind of old-fashioned, but she didn’t say anything until we were on the street again.

  “What’s this hotel stuff?” she said. “You’re not keeping me out of this.”

  “I am,” I said firmly. “Macey and Starkey are working together. If Macey spots you, he’ll tip Starkey and then something you won’t like will happen. Don’t forget Starkey wants you badly. Until I’ve fixed him, you won’t be safe.”

  “I’ll chance it,” she said. “Now things have started, I must be on the job. I can’t afford—”

  But I stopped her. “You and I are working together,” I reminded her. “You must keep out of sight, so please don’t make things difficult.” I gave her the key to the Gazette offices. “Go to the Gazette and wait for Latimer to pick you up. I’ll tell him to get you into a hotel for the night, and as soon as I’m through with the police I’ll join you. There’s a lot we have to talk about. Without you I’m going to have a load of trouble sorting things out.”

  As I was talking a yellow cab cruised past and I yelled at it. Still protesting, Audrey got into the cab.

  “I’ll be along in a couple of hours,” I promised. “Don’t let anyone in unless they knock three times, two short and a long tap. That’ll be Latimer. You can trust him. Sorry about this, kid, but we can’t afford to take chances now.”

  She was beginning to say something when we heard the distant wail of a siren.

  “Save it,” I said. “I’ll be seeing you,” and I slammed the cab door and told the driver to step on it.

  The cab and the police car passed each other at the end of the street. As the police car pulled up with a squeal of brakes outside No. 37 I crossed the street and joined the three men who had piled out of the car.

  I recognized Beyfield, but the other two I hadn’t seen before. The driver, who was in uniform, climbed out of the car and eyed me suspiciously.

  Beyfield looked at me. “I might have known it was you,�
� he said in disgust. “If you’re being funny, you’ll be sorrier than hell.”

  “I’m not being funny,” I said coldly. “You’ll find a girl in there—she’s been strangled.”

  “Yeah?” he said, looking at the house doubtfully, “How do you know?”

  “I’ve seen her,” I said, pushing open the gate. “Suppose you look at her first and then we’ll talk.”

  “You two guys stay here,” he said to the driver and one of the plain-clothes dicks. “Harris, you watch this bird and see he keeps with us.”

  Harris, a short fat man with a red shiny face, anchored himself alongside me.

  “I’ve heard about you,” he said, speaking out of the corner of his mouth. “Don’t do anything your ma wouldn’t like or I’ll slap you down.”

  I was feeling too sick to trade wisecracks with him and I led the way up the cement walk. As Audrey and I had left the house we had slammed the front door, so I went along to the window, pushed it up and stepped inside.

  “I’ll be interested to hear how you got on to this,” Beyfield said as he followed me over the windowsill.

  I grunted, but didn’t say anything.

  Harris crawled into the room behind us and turned on a powerful flashlight.

  “Ain’t this the house where we found that Kunz dame’s shoe?” he wheezed to Beyfield.

  Beyfield said it was. “If a body’s here,” he said, “maybe this lug planted it.”

  We went up the stairs, reached the landing, and I threw open the door of the room where I had found Marian.

  “Take a look at that,” I said grimly.

  The beam of the flashlight bounced on the opposite wall and then crawled down towards the floor.

  “I’m looking,” Beyfield said, his voice suddenly hard.

  But for the dust, the hanging strips of wallpaper, the pile of soot in the fireplace, the room was empty.

  * * *

  “Sit down,” Macey said, pointing to a chair opposite him. He was behind a big desk in his office on the third floor of police headquarters. I sat down.