I gave him a grin. “No. There’s still someone. The killer. He knows why. Have you anything to do right now?”
“Nothing I can’t put off. This case will be in Daly’s hands for a while. Why?”
I took his arm and walked him around the block to my car. We got in and headed toward my apartment.
The mailman was just coming out when we got there. I opened my box and drew out the envelope I addressed to myself at the college and ripped it open. I explained to Pat I had to get the piece of charred evidence out of the hands of those hick cops while I could and he agreed that I did it right.
Pat knew the ropes. He put in three phone calls and when we reached the bank a guard ushered us into the office of the president. By that time he had already received the court order by phone to permit us to inspect the box listed on the slip.
It was there, all of it. Evidence enough to hang George Kalecki a dozen times over. I was really grateful now that I had put a slug into him. The guy was a rat, all right. He had his fingers in more than I had suspected. There were photostats of checks, letters, a few original documents, and plenty of material to indict George Kalecki for every vice charge there was, including a few new ones. But nothing else. Where George had gone there was no need for a court. Hal Kines had tied him up in a knot with both ends leading to the hot squat if he had tried to make a break.
Pat ran over the stuff twice, then scooped them all into a large envelope, signed for it and left. Outside I asked, “What are you going to do with the junk?”
“Go over it carefully. Maybe I can trace these checks even though they are made out to cash and don’t show the signature on the reverse side. How about you?”
“Might as well go home like I planned. Why, got something else?”
Pat laughed. “We’ll see. I had the idea you might be holding out on me, so I wasn’t going to tell you this, but since you’re still playing it square I’ll let you in on something.”
He took a pad from his pocket and flipped it open. “Here’s some names. See if you know anything about them.”
Pat cleared his throat.
“Henry Strebhouse, Carmen Silby, Thelma B. Duval, Virginia R. Reims, Conrad Stevens.” Pat stopped and waited, looking at me expectantly.
“Strebhouse and Stevens spent a stretch in the big house,” he said. “I don’t know the others. Think I saw the Duval girl’s name in the society columns once.”
“You did. Well, you’re not much help, so I’ll tell you. Each one of these people is in city or private sanitariums. Dope fiends.”
“That’s nice,” I mused. “How did it get out?”
“Vice squad reported it.”
“Yeah. I know they’ve been on something like that, but it’s funny it didn’t reach the papers. Oh, I get it. They haven’t found the source yet, huh? What is it?”
Pat gave me a wry grin. “That’s what Daly would like to know. None of them will reveal it. Not even under threat of imprisonment. Unfortunately for us, some of them have connections too high up for us to try to extract information the hard way. We did get this, though, the stuff was delivered to them via a half-witted little guy who didn’t know from nothing.”
I let my breath go out hard. “Bobo!”
“Exactly. They’ll be able to identify him—if they will. Maybe his death will make them clam up even tighter.”
“Damn,” I said softly, “and while they’re under treatment we can’t push them. Our hands are tied very neatly. There’s a tie-up, Pat, there has to be. Look how closely all this is connected. At first glance it seems to be loose as hell, but it’s not. Bobo and Kalecki ... Hal and Kalecki ... Hal and Eileen ... Eileen and Jack. Either we’ve run into an outfit that had a lot of irons in the fire or else it was a chain reaction. Jack started it going and the killer knocked him off, but the killer had to cover up something else. From then on it was a vicious circle. Brother, have we run into something!”
“You’re not kidding. And we’re standing right in the bottom of the well. Now what?”
“Beats me, Pat. I see a little light now, a few things are falling into place.”
“What?”
“I’d rather not say. Just little things. They don’t point in any direction except to tell me that the killer has a damn good motive for all this.”
“Still racing me, Mike?”
“You can bet your pretty white tail on that! I think we’re in the home stretch, but the track is muddy now and bogging us down. We’ll have to plod through it to firmer ground before we can start whipping it up.” I grinned at him. “You won’t beat me out, Pat.”
“What do you bet?”
“A steak dinner.”
“Taken.”
I left him then. He grabbed a cab back to the office and I went up to my apartment. When I took off my pants I felt for my wallet. It was gone. That was nice. Had two hundred berries in my billfold and I couldn’t afford to lose it. I put my pants back on and went down to the car. Not there, either. I thought. I might have dropped it in the barber shop, but I paid that bill with change I had in my side pocket. Damn.
I climbed back in the car and turned it over, then headed south to Charlotte’s apartment. The lobby door was open and I walked up. I rang the bell twice, but no one answered. Someone was inside, though, and I could hear a voice singing Swanee River. I pounded on the door and Kathy opened it up.
“What’s the matter,” I asked her, “doesn’t the bell ring any more?”
“Sho’ nuff, Mistah Hammah. Ah think so. Come in. Come in.”
When I walked in the door Charlotte came running out to meet me. She had on a stained smock and a pair of rubber gloves. “Hey, honey,” she smiled at me. “You sure made that trip fast. Goody, goody, goody.” She threw her arms around me and tilted her head for a kiss. Kathy stood there watching, her teeth flashing whitely in her mouth.
“Go ’way,” I grinned. Kathy turned her back so I could kiss her boss. Charlotte sighed and laid her head against my chest.
“Going to stay now?”
“Nope.”
“Oh ... why? You just got here.”
“I came to get my wallet.” I walked over to the sofa with her and ran my hand down behind the cushions. I found it. The darn thing had slipped out of my hip pocket while I was asleep and stuck there.
“Now I suppose you’re going to accuse me of stealing all your money,” Charlotte pouted.
“Idiot.” I kissed the top of her blonde head.
“What are you doing in this outfit?” I fingered the smock.
“Developing pictures. Want to see them?” She led me to her darkroom and turned out the lights. As she did so, a red glow came from the shield over the sink. Charlotte put some films in the developer, and in a few moments printed up a pic of a guy sitting in a chair, hands glued to the metal arms, and a strained expression on his face. She flicked the overhead on and looked over the photo.
“Who’s this?”
“A clinical patient. As a matter of fact, that is one that Hal Kines had released from the charity ward of the city hospital to undergo treatment in our clinic.”
“What’s the matter with him? The guy looks scared to death.”
“He’s in a state of what is commonly known as hypnosis. Actually there’s nothing more to it than inducing in the patient a sense of relaxation and confidence. In this case, the patient was a confirmed kleptomaniac. It wasn’t found out until he was admitted to the city ward after being found nearly dead of starvation on the streets.
“When we got to the bottom of his mental status, we found that in childhood he had been deprived of everything and had to steal to get what he wanted. Through a friend, I got him a job and explained why he had been like that. Once understanding his condition, he was able to overcome it. Now he’s doing quite well.”
I put the pic back in a rack and looked the place over. She had certainly spent enough fixing up the darkroom. I saw where I was going to have to earn more than I did to support a wife w
ho had such a lavish hobby.
Charlotte must have read my mind. “After we’re married,” she smiled, “I’ll give all this up and have my pictures developed at the corner drugstore.”
“Naw, we’ll do all right.” She grabbed me and hung on. I kissed her so hard I hurt my mouth this time. It was a wonder she could breathe, I held her so tightly.
We walked to the door arm in arm. “What about tonight, Mike? Where will we go?”
“I don’t know. To the movies, maybe.”
“Swell, I’d like that.” I opened the door. When I did I pointed to the chime behind it. “How come it doesn’t ring any more?”
“Oh, phooey.” Charlotte poked under the rug with her toe. “Kathy has been using the vacuum in here again. She always knocks out the plug.” I bent down and stuck it back in the socket.
“See you about eight, kitten,” I said as I left. She waited until I was nearly out of sight down the stairs, then blew me a kiss and shut the door.
CHAPTER 12
My tailor had a fit when he saw the bullet hole in my coat. I guess he was afraid he was coming close to losing a good customer. He pleaded with me to be careful, then told me he’d have the cloth rewoven by next week. I picked up my other suit and went home.
The phone was ringing when I opened the door. I dropped the suit over the back of a chair and grabbed the receiver. It was Pat.
“I just got a report on the bullet that killed Bobo Hopper, Mike.”
“Go on.” I was all excited now.
“Same one.”
“That does it, Pat. Anything else?”
“Yeah, I have Kalecki’s gun here, too. The bullet doesn’t fit except with the ones he let loose at you. We traced the serial number and it was sold down South. It went through two more hands and wound up in a pawnshop on Third Avenue where it went to a guy named George K. Masters.”
So that was how George got the gun. No wonder there was no record of it before. Kalecki was his middle, and probably a family, name. I thanked Pat and hung up. Now why the hell would Kalecki be using that name? Not unless he was liable to be traced through his real one for a crime committed some time ago. At any rate, the question would have to remain unanswered unless Pat could make some sense out of the evidence we found in the safe-deposit box. You can’t prosecute a corpse.
After I ate, I showered and was getting dressed when the phone went off again. This time it was Myrna. She wanted me to pick her up earlier, if I could, tomorrow morning. That was all right with me and I told her so. She still sounded pretty bad and I was glad to do what I could to help her out. Maybe the ride into the country would do her good. Poor kid, she needed something to cheer her up. The only thing that had me worried was that she might try going back on the junk again to get Jack’s death out of her mind. She was a smart girl. There were other ways. Some day she would settle down with a nice fellow and Jack would be but a memory. That’s the way nature made us. Maybe it’s best.
Charlotte met me in front of the apartment house. When she saw me coming she tapped her foot impatiently as though she had been waiting an hour. “Mike,” she said fiercely, “you’re late. A whole five minutes. Explain.”
“Don’t beat me with that whip,” I laughed. “I got held up in traffic.”
“A likely excuse. I bet you were trying to see what makes a nymphomaniac tick again.” She was a little devil.
“Shut up and climb in. We’ll never get a seat in the show otherwise.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m in the mood for a good ‘who-dun-it’ if you are. Maybe I can pick up something new in detecting techniques.”
“Swell. Let’s go, Macduff.”
We finally found a small theater along the Stem that didn’t have a line outside a mile long, and we sat through two and a half hours of a fantastic murder mystery that had more holes in it than a piece of Swiss cheese, and a Western that moved as slowly as the Long Island Rail Road during a snowstorm.
When we got out I thought I had blisters on my butt. Charlotte suggested having a sandwich, so we stopped in a dog wagon for poached eggs on toast, then moved on down to a bar for a drink. I ordered beer, and when Charlotte did the same I raised my eyebrows.
“Go ahead, get what you want. I got dough.”
She giggled. “Silly, I like beer. Always have.”
“Well, glad to hear it. I can’t make you out. An expensive hobby, but you drink beer. Maybe you aren’t going to be so hard to keep after all.”
“Oh, if it comes to a pinch, I can always go back to work.”
“Nothing doing. No wife of mine is going to work. I want her at home where I know where she is.”
Charlotte laid her beer down and looked at me wickedly. “Has it ever occurred to you that you’ve never even proposed to me? How do you know I’ll have you?”
“Okay, minx,” I said. I took her hand in mine and raised it to my lips. “Will you marry me?”
She started to laugh, but tears came into her eyes and she pushed her face against my shoulder. “Oh, Mike, yes. Yes. I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, kitten. Now drink your drink. Tomorrow night at the twins’ place we’ll duck the crowd and make some plans.”
“Kiss me.”
A couple of wise guys were watching me leeringly. I didn’t care. I kissed her easy like.
“When do I get my ring?” she wanted to know.
“Soon. I have a few checks coming in this week or next and we can go down to Tiffany’s and pick one up. How’s that?”
“Wonderful, Mike, wonderful. I’m so happy.”
We finished the beer, had another, then started out. The pair of wise guys threw me a “hey, hey” as I passed. I dropped Charlotte’s arm for a second, then put my hands on each side of their heads and brought them together with a clunk like a couple of gourds. Both the guys were sitting upright on their stools. In the mirror I could see their eyes. They looked like four agate marbles. The bartender was watching me, his mouth open. I waved to him and took Charlotte out. Behind me the two guys fell off their stools and hit the deck like wet rags.
“My protector.” She squeezed my arm.
“Aw shadup,” I grinned. I felt pretty good right then.
Kathy was sleeping, so we tiptoed in. Charlotte put her hand over the chime to stop its reverberations, but even then we heard the maid stop snoring. She must have gone over on her back again because the snoring resumed.
She took off her coat, then asked, “Want a drink?”
“Nope.”
“What then?”
“You.” The next second she was in my arms, kissing me. Her breasts were pulsating with passion. I held her as closely as I could.
“Tell me, Mike.”
“I love you.” She kissed me again. I pushed her away and picked up my hat.
“Enough, darling,” I said. “After all, I’m only a man. One more kiss like that and I won’t be able to wait until after we’re married.” She grinned and threw herself at me for that kiss, but I held her off.
“Please, Mike?”
“No.”
“Then let’s get married right away. Tomorrow.”
I had to smile. She was so damn adorable. “Not tomorrow, but very soon, honey, I can’t hold out much longer.”
She held the chime while I opened the door. I kissed her lightly and slipped out. I could see where I wouldn’t get much sleep that night. When Velda heard about this she’d throw the roof at me. I hated to tell her.
My alarm went off at six. I slapped the button down to stop the racket, then sat up and stretched. When I looked out the window the sun was shining—a beautiful day. A half-empty bottle of beer was on the night table and I took a swallow. It was as flat as a table-top mesa.
After a shower I threw a robe around me and dug in the pantry for something to eat. The only box of cereal had teeth marks in it where a mouse had beaten me to it, so I opened a sack of potatoes and onions and stripped them into a pan of grease and let
the whole mess cook while I made coffee.
I burned the potatoes, but they tasted good just the same. Even my coffee was agreeable. This time next month I’d be eating across the table from a gorgeous blonde. What a wife she was going to make!
Myrna was up when I called her. She said she’d be ready at eight and reminded me not to be late. I promised her I wouldn’t, then buzzed Charlotte.
“Hello, lazy,” I yawned.
“You don’t sound so bright yourself this time of the morning.”
The Mike Hammer Collection Volume 1 Page 16
