‘Open up!’ a voice called. ‘We know you’re in there. It’s the city police. Come on; open up!’
I shoved the gun in my hip pocket and the notebook in my coat pocket, slipped silently off the chair and went over to the window. I was scared stiff and had difficulty with my breathing, but I kept my head. If they caught me in here I would be in a hell of a jam.
As I pushed open the window one of the cops drove his shoulder against the door, but the bolt held.
‘Get down and around to the back,’ I heard him say. ‘He may try to get out of the window.’
The other cop went clattering down the stairs.
I was out on the windowsill by now. There was a sheer drop of about thirty feet into the yard. I couldn’t go that way, and besides the cop would be in the yard any second now. The roof guttering was just above my head. I caught hold of it, tested its strength. It seemed strong enough, and sweating in every pore I started hauling myself up on to the roof. For about four seconds I hung in space, then I got my heel in the gutter and heaved myself up. I felt the gutter bend under the strain, then a voice yelled from below. With a tremendous heave I rolled myself on to the gently sloping roof, crawled desperately for cover behind a chimneystack.
A gun went off and bits of brick stung the back of my neck. I gave a convulsive wriggle and put the stack behind me and the gun, and lay for a moment or so, trying to get my breath.
I knew I hadn’t long before they’d be up here looking for me.
The moonlight turned night into day. About twelve feet away I could see the flat roof of Delmonico’s bar, separated from Bertillo’s place by the alley.
‘He’s up on the roof, Jack,’ the cop yelled from below, ‘I’m coming up!’
I crawled to the far edge of the roof, stood up and measured the distance between the two roofs. I hadn’t any run back. It had to be a cold-blooded leap with the alley thirty feet below me.
There wasn’t any time to waste. If I was going to get out of this mess I had to jump, so I balanced myself on the edge of the roof and jumped. It flashed through my mind as I was in mid-air that I wasn’t going to make it, and I flung myself forward, hitting the opposite guttering with my chest and sliding back. My hands grabbing and searching for a hold gripped a concealed drain pipe running along the flat roof. I heaved myself up, and, gasping for breath, rolled on to the roof.
There were no chimneystacks to hide behind on this roof, and the light of the moon picked me out as if a searchlight was playing on me. But not far away was a sky light, and I nipped over to it, heaved it up and without looking where I was going, lowered myself into darkness
For about half a minute I sat on the floor, drawing in great, heaving breaths, my legs feeling like rubber, and not caring where I was or what was going to happen next. Then, just as I decided to get up, a door opened right by me and a panel of light from a shaded amp in the room beyond fell on me.
I twisted around, ready to start fighting and looked up at a girl in a crumpled black nightie that was as transparent as a plate-glass window.
She was a tall, tired faced blonde, and she regarded me with sleepy curiosity.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Are you in trouble, honey?’
I dug up a grin.
‘Perhaps that’s a slight understatement. Sister, I’m full of trouble.’
She poked a knuckle in her eye and yawned.
‘Cops?’
‘Yeah, cops,’ I said, getting to my feet.
She stood aside.
‘You’d better come in. They’ll search the joint.’
I went past her into the room. It was a typical love nest.
Delmonico’s catered for all tastes and vices The room was small and stuffy and skimpily furnished. A bed, a chest of drawers, a toilet basin and threadbare mat were the only luxuries the room could boast of.
‘What have you done, honey?’ the girl asked, s ting on the bed and yawning. She had very big white teeth and her mouth was a smear of lipstick. ‘I heard shooting. Was it you?’
‘I walked into it,’ I said. ‘The cops moved in just behind me. I had to get out quick.’
‘Was Betillo shot?’
‘Not him; some other guy.’ Seeing the disappointment on her face, I added, ‘Betillo run into a cracked head. He won’t be much use for some time.’
“That’s fine,’ she said. ‘I hate that heel.’
Outside in the passage there was a sudden soft thud.
‘Cops,’ I said softly. ‘Right out there, now.’
‘They’re crazy to stick their snouts in here,’ she said, moved across the room and swiftly and silently, bolted the door and then dug her thumb into a bellpush on the wall.
‘That’ll bring the bouncers up,’ she went on with a tight little smile. ‘Keep your shirt on, honey. You’ll soon be out of this.’
The door suddenly rattled.
A voice said, ‘Open up or I’ll shoot the lock in!’
I pulled the girl away from the door.
Heavy footsteps came pounding up the stairs. A voice yelled, ‘It’s cops! Hey, Joe! Buttons!’
One of the cops shouted, ‘Lay off! This ain’t anything to do with you! Keep back or you’ll get hurt.’
A gun went off and there was a yell. More feet pounded up the stairs. I yanked the sheets off the girl’s bed, knotted them together, ran over to the window. More gunfire. If I didn’t get a move on the riot squad would be out there to welcome me. I pulled out all that was left of my money and pushed he notes into the girl’s hands.
‘So long, sister,’ I said. ‘And thanks.’
One of the cops fired through the door. Someone along the passage opened up with what sounded like a Sten gun.
I had the window open by now.
‘Boy!’ the blonde exclaimed, excited. She was wide awake now. ‘I’m loving this! Mind how you break your neck.’
I knotted one end of the sheet, dropped the sheet out of the window, got out on the sill.
‘Shut the window on the knot,’ I said, ‘and make it snappy. I’ll buy you a drink one of these days.’
She closed the window as more gunfire rattled through the building, and waved to me through the pane.
I grabbed the sheet and went down fast. As I dropped to the ground a voice shouted, ‘Hey! You!’ And a shadow moved towards me.
I swung round as a hand grabbed at my shoulder. I wasn’t in a playful mood, and I brought my right fist up in an uppercut that caught the guy on the side of his jaw. He gave a choked grunt and slid forward, his hands clutching at my coat. I kicked him off and he dropped down on his hands and knees. He remained like that, groaning.
I ran down the alley to where I left my car.
III
It was getting on for three o’clock a.m. when I pulled up outside an apartment block on Hawthorne Avenue. The building was set back from the road, and in the forecourt a big bowl and fountain gave the place its only sign of distinction. It was a rabbit warren of apartments; all small, all squeezed together; and all expensive. I had been there before. Its only advantage was that it was soundproof, but even at that, I’d rather have lived in a tent.
Miss Bolus rented a two-room apartment on the ground floor, facing east. I decided I wouldn’t embarrass her by using the front entrance. The hall porter wouldn’t take too kindly to a call on an unattended young lady at this hour, so I walked across the lush lawn, past the bowl and fountain and along the cement path to the casement window that I knew led into her sitting room.
Her apartment was in darkness. The window, next to the casement, would be her bedroom, and I tapped gently on the windowpane. She couldn’t have been a heavy sleeper for I had only tapped about three times when I saw through a chink in the curtains a light flash up. I stepped back, pushed my hat off my forehead and groped for a cigarette. I was feeling tired and hot, and hoped there would be a drink in there for me. As I lit the cigarette, the curtains parted and Miss Bolus looked out
at me. I could only see the outline of her head, but she could see my face in the light of the match.
I grinned at her.
She waved me to the casement window and moved away.
The curtain swung back into place.
As I stepped to the casement, I felt a drop of rain on my face. For the past ten minutes, heavy clouds had been piling up in the sky. It looked as if it were coming on for a wet spell. I wasn’t sorry. The close, brittle heat didn’t suit me. The casement window swung open as it began to rain in earnest.
‘Hello,’ I said. ‘It’s raining.’
‘Did you wake me up to tell me that?’ she asked, holding the casement door against her side, and looking at me in the light that flowed over her shoulder from the standard lamp in the sitting room.
‘That and other things. Can I come in? I could do with a drink.’
She stood aside.
‘When I heard you tapping I thought it was burglars,’ she said. ‘I think I was dreaming about burglars.’
I went into the small room that was comfortable enough, but the furniture was too modern for my taste. I sat down in a chair shaped like the letter S, pitched my hat on the nearby divan, yawned and looked at her approvingly.
She was wearing an oyster-coloured silk wrap over a pale blue, crepe-de-Chine nightdress. Her small feet were thrust into fur-lined moccasins, and her flame-coloured hair was tied back with a piece of blue ribbon. She looked very wide awake, her make-up was surprisingly fresh, and there was a look of restrained surprise and perhaps angled in her chinky, green eyes.
‘Never mind the burglars,’ I said. ‘How about a drink?
‘What have you got?’
She moved past me to the sideboard.
‘I think I’m going to be very angry with you,’ she said. ‘You’ve never seen me angry, have you?’
‘I don’t think I have. Why be angry?’
She poured out a big whisky, added Whiterock and handed me the glass.
‘I don’t like being woken up suddenly like this. I think you’re taking too much for granted.’
I sampled the Scotch. It was very good.
‘Yeah, maybe I am,’ I said and set the glass on the table with a little sigh. ‘But this isn’t a social call. I’m here on business: business that can’t wait until tomorrow.’
She sat on the arm of the settee, crossed one slim leg over the other and looked at me inquiringly.
‘What business?’
I took a drag on my cigarette, blew a cloud of smoke to the ceiling.
‘Lee Thayler was shot about an hour ago’ I said ‘Two bullets in the middle of his chest, and the third cut open an artery.’
There was a long, long pause. The silence was broken only by the occasional whirring grunt of the refrigerator in the kitchenette next door.
I looked at her. She was still; her arms folded across her breasts, her eyes expressionless, her mouth set She wasn’t a good card-player for nothing. She didn’t give anything away.
‘Who shot him?’ she asked, after the silence had gone on a little too long.
‘The same killer who wiped out Dana, Leadbetter and Anita,’ I said. ‘You’ve been a little secretive, haven’t you? I didn’t know you and Anita were old pals, nor that you and Thayler were bedfellows.’
‘That’s ancient history,’ she said with a casual shrug. ‘How did you find out?’
‘I ran into a character named Nick Nedick. He showed me a picture of Thayler. You were in it.’
You know, I think I’ll make some coffee,’ she said, and got off the arm of the settee. ‘I supposed you’re going to ask a lot of questions now?’
‘Go ahead and make it’ I leaned forward and flicked on the electric fire. ‘We may as well talk now as later’. You don’t seem to care much that Thayler’s dead.’
‘Why should I? We were washed up, and I’ve forgotten he ever existed.’
I heard her go into the kitchenette and I leaned back in the chair. The .45 dug into my hip so I pulled it out and looked at it the telescopic sight intrigued me. I aimed the gun at a blue vase on the overmantel and peered through the sight. I couldn’t see anything. I examined the sight more closely, wondering what it was. Although it looked like a telescopic sight it didn’t function as one. It was something I had never seen before on a gun. But right now I was a little tired, and I had other things on my mind, so I laid the gun on the table beside me and put my hat on it. I’d get Clegg to look at it: G egg knew all about guns and poisons and bloodstains. He was a pretty good man to know.
I heard a sudden, stifled sound that brought my head around and I stared towards the kitchenette door: the stifled sound of a woman crying.
I slid out of the chair and crossed the room without making any noise and peered around the half-open door.
Miss Bolus was standing by the electric percolator; her face in her hands.
‘You go and sit by the fire,’ I said. ‘I’ll make the coffee.’
She started, dashed the tears away with the back of her hand and turned away from me.
‘I’ll make it,’ she said in a muffled voice. ‘For God’s sake leave me alone.’
I took hold of her arm and pushed her into the sitting room.
‘Sit by the fire.’
It took me about a couple of minutes to make the coffee, and when I re-entered the room, she had lit a cigarette and was standing before the fire, her face half-turned from me. I set down the tray.
‘Will you have it black?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’
I poured a cup, laced it with whisky and put it on the overmantel near her. Then I sat down and poured myself a cup.
‘Let’s put the cards on the table,’ I said. ‘It’ll mean nothing, but it’ll be a satisfactory way of clearing the mess up. You know a lot about this business - far more than I do. You’ve been working hand-in-glove with Thayler, haven’t you?’
‘What do you mean - it’ll mean nothing?’ she asked, her voice sharp.
‘Well, how can it? Whatever happens I have to keep Cerf covered. I’ve explained that to you. If I put my hand on the killer I’ll have to call Brandon in, and he’ll chop me for not calling him in before. It’s stalemate. Thayler killed Benny. All right, Thayler’s dead. Well, that’s something. But Thayler didn’t kill Dana. Even if I can’t touch the killer I still want to know who did it, and I think you can tell me who it is.’
‘Can’t you guess?’ she said a little scornfully.
I shook my head.
‘I could, but guessing is not the same as knowing. Thayler knew who the killer was - that’s why he was knocked off. Leadbetter also knew who the killer was - he was knocked off too. I think you know who the killer is. Suppose you tell me before you get knocked off too?’
She sat down, her coffee cup in her hand, opposite me, the table between us.
‘What makes you think I know?’ she asked.
‘A hunch. I think you and Thayler teamed up again after Anita was shot. I think he told you what I’m certain Anita told him.’
‘Well, all right. Now he’s dead, it doesn’t matter,’ she said, and dropped back against the chair. ‘I lied just now when I said he and I were washed up and I’d forgotten he ever existed. I loved him. I was crazy about him, and we were happy until that bitch came into our lives. No other girl except me would have had the nerve to go through that act of ours, and if I hadn’t loved him, and wanted him to get on and make a name for himself, I wouldn’t have done it. But I did it, and he got on, and he got talked about, and people came to see him. And then she had to come on the scene and spoiled it.’ She reached for a cigarette and lit it with an unsteady hand. ‘But as soon as she got him away from me she left him and married Cerf. I happened to be in Orchid City when Cerf brought her to live at his estate. I saw her one day. I made inquiries. I found out she had married him, and hadn’t divorced Lee. She bitched up my happiness, so I bitched up hers. I wrote an anonymous lette
r to Cerf and told him she was already married.’
I poured out more coffee, stirred whisky into it, lit another cigarette.
‘It’s a funny thing,’ I said, ‘but I wouldn’t have thought you were the type to write anonymous letters.’
‘Wouldn’t you?’ she said, a little breathlessly. ‘After what she had done to me? Well, I did, and I told Lee too, and he came to see Anita. By that time she had got tired of Cerf, and was playing around with Barclay. She was scared when she heard Lee was coming to see her, and she persuaded Bannister to hide her in the night club. Lee told me what had happened. He heard it from Anita before she died. The shooting of your girl, Dana Lewis, was a mistake.
‘Cerf confronted Anita with my letter. She tried to lie her way out of it, but he didn’t believe her. She thought he was going to kill her there and then, and she bolted out of the room and out of the house. That night she came to you, to find out if Cerf knew about Barclay. When she left you, she saw Cerf following her. She got scared and appealed to Dana for protection. Dana took her to her apartment. Cerf followed them and waited outside. Anita offered Dana her necklace if she would change clothes with her and draw Cerf away from the house so Anita could reach L’Etoile in safety. Dana agreed to do this. The two women changed clothes. Before leaving the apartment Dana hid the necklace under her mattress in case Anita changed her mind and took it when she left. Cerf shot Dana out on the dunes, thinking she was Anita. You’ve guessed that by now, haven’t you? It was Cerf who shot Leadbetter, who saw him taking Anita’s clothes off Dana’s body, and later tried to blackmail him.’
‘How the hell do you know all this?’ I said, sitting forward to stare at her.
‘Anita wrote Lee a letter when she was at the L’Etoile and told him; he told me. It was her idea for Lee to blackmail Cerf. She said the two of them could get all Cerf’s money if they played it right.’
‘And what did Thayler do?’
‘Lee always wanted money. He agreed.’ There was a bitter expression in the green eyes now. ‘You wondered why Dana’s coat and skirt were hidden in Barclay’s cupboard. Anita was wearing the suit. She went to Barclay’s because she always kept some clothes there. Barclay was away. She changed into her own clothes, leaving Dana’s suit in Barclay’s cupboard, and went on to L’Etoile. You found her there. Then Bannister flung her out. She had nowhere to go. Cerf was still looking for her, so she went to you. You were with Cerf. Maybe Cerf thought you knew too much and came to your place intending to shoot you, only he found Anita there. He shot her. Lee had been hunting for Anita, and had decided to see you and find out if you knew where she was. He arrived too late to stop Cerf killing Anita, but in the struggle, Cerf dropped his gun, but he escaped. While Lee was out at the back looking for him, you turned up. By then Lee thought up a plan to screw every dollar out of Cerf. He could do so now with ease because he had Cerf’s gun. It had Cerf’s initials on it, and it had killed Dana, Leadbetter and Anita. He knocked you out, took Anita in his car to Betillo’s and then phoned me to go over to your place and report on your movements.’ She broke off to stub out her cigarette, her mouth twisted into a jeering little smile.
1949 - You're Lonely When You Dead Page 22
