(1941) Miss Callaghan Comes To Grief

by James Hadley Chase

  Cold−eyed cops had come into his apartment and looked him over. They had asked him questions about Sadie. They wanted to know where she was. When he showed them the letter she'd written they didn't believe a word of it.

  Carter, the officer−in−charge, had taken him into a corner. “See here, Perminger, your tale stinks. Why was Mrs. Perminger alone in this apartment all night?”

  Benny clutched his head. “I keep tellin' you,” he groaned, “she an' I had a tiff. So I walked out on her.”

  “What was the quarrel about?”

  Benny tried to explain, but Carter sneered at him. “You mean to tell me that you walked out of this joint because your wife objected to you lookin' at dames? Now, think about it. Isn't that the lousiest story you've ever heard?”

  “Well, it wasn't only that. She an' I were at the fights, an' by accident I got my head between some dame's knees”

  Carter's eyes bulged. “You did what?” he said.

  Benny wrenched at his collar. “Yeah, that's right. You see, she was sittin' right behind me...”

  Carter turned away. “Hi, Murphy, this guy's got a hot one here. He goes around sticking his head between dames' knees.”

  Murphy raised his eyebrows. “Well, tell him to stop doin' it. Tell him one thing leads to another.”

  Carter scowled at Benny. “You gotta be careful what you do, guy,” he said. “We can't take you in for that, but mind it's your head next time.”

  And so it went on. The cops were far too excited looking at the dead bodies of Jean and Mendetta, hunting through the desk and drawers, to be really interested in Benny. When he tried to bring up about Sadie they told him to go down to the Missing People's Bureau.

  Finally he gave up and sat down to wait for them to go. When they were through photographing the bodies, testing for finger−prints and ransacking the apartment. Carter found a little time to speak to him again.

  He said, “We'll want you, buddy, so stick around. There's goin' to be a big stink over this, an' you're goin'

  to be right in the middle of it. When we want you we'll send for you.”

  They all went off after that and left Benny alone. So he decided to get good and drunk.

  A little while later Jay found him, sitting in his armchair, a bottle of Scotch by his side and a glass clutched firmly in his hand.

  Jay looked at him. “Hey, soak,” he said, “anythin' left for me?”

  Benny got hastily to his feet. “Am I glad to see you?” he said, shaking hands vigorously. “Sure, have a drink. I'll get you a glass.”

  Jay pushed him back into the chair. “I'll get it,” he said. “You take it easy.”

  When he came back from the kitchen, holding a glass, Benny had just given himself a long shot.

  “Wait a minute,” Jay said hastily, taking the bottle away. “You've got to keep sober for a while.” He poured himself out two fingers and sat down on the edge of the table. “Listen, buddy, I want to talk to you.”

  Benny shook his head. “I can't stand any more of it,” he said. “Those cops have been making my conk buzz.”

  “Never mind about the cops. You an' me've got a job of work to do. You want to find your wife, don't you?”

  “Why, goddamn it, of course I do.”

  “All right, then. Now listen. You don't know anythin' about how a murder is investigated. Well, I do. I've been watchin' these guys. They're puttin' on a front. They don't want to find out who killed Mendetta. They don't want to find out where your wife is. So they fool around, ask a lot of bull questions and then leave it at that. Maybe they'll forget all about you.”

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  Benny sobered. “That's cock−eyed,” he said. “It's their job to find out things like that.”

  Jay smiled grimly. “That's what you think, but you don't know anythin'. This is serious, Perminger. If you're not ready to do somethin' your wife'll never be found.”

  “What have I got to do?”

  “I'll explain things so you can understand. Do you know what Mendetta did for a livin'?”

  Benny shook his head. “I know he'd got plenty of dough,” he said. “And I've heard he was mixed up with some rackets. What they are I don't know.”

  Jay nodded. “Well, I'll tell you. He was runnin' brothels.”

  Benny blinked. “You sure of that?” he said.

  “I'm sure.”

  “Mind you, I wouldn't like to earn my dough that way, but brothels are necessary, ain't they?”

  “Not Mendetta's brothels. I've heard he fills them by Slave methods. I don't want to scare you, buddy, but I think your wife's in one of his houses right now.”

  Benny stared at him. “What!” he said.

  Jay nodded. “I think so, Perminger.”

  “You're crazy!” Benny said, his voice rising. He got to his feet. “That's a goddamn dirty lie, and you know it. Take it back, you heel, or I'll kick the nuts off you.”

  Jay reached out and shoved him in his chest. Benny flopped over into the chair again. “Quiet,” Jay said.

  “You've got to listen to this. You don't know how deep it goes.”

  Benny said between his teeth, “You're goin' to be sorry for this, you heel!”

  “Aw, shut up; let me tell you. Mendetta's dead. Who killed him? Some guy who thinks he can make more dough out of the racket. There's Grantham at 22nd Club. It might be he, but I don't think so. He hasn't the guts. Never mind who it is just yet. Mendetta's girls never had a conviction. Time after time I've been in court when one of them was brought in for soliciting, and every time they got off. Every time one of his girls came up Judge Hennessey was the guy who found them not guilty. Why? Ever heard of corrupt judges? All right.

  Mendetta must have had a lot of protection. That means he paid out a lot of dough. When he was killed, I'm bettin' those guys who got regular dough started gettin' scared. If they find the guy who killed Mendetta they won't get any more easy dough. They're givin' him a run. If he keeps up payment, as Mendetta did, then he's safe. That's the way the racket is worked in this town.”

  Benny said, “What the hell has it to do with Sadie?”

  Jay leant forward. “Suppose Sadie saw the killer? Suppose she reported it to the cops? Suppose they got excited and saw that she was goin' to bust up their racket? What would they do? Give her a cake and a bronx cheer? Like hell!”

  Benny sat very still. “What could they do with her?”

  “They could either knock her on the head or else give her over to Grantham. You've got to face it, Perminger. If her body ain't found in a week or so, then she's in one of his houses.”

  “They can't do a thing like that!” Benny said wildly. “By God! I won't let them do it!” He got to his feet.

  Jay said, “You don't understand. You've got to take it. There's nothing we can do. Now listen; they know I'm on to their racket, so what do they do? I've got to go to New York to cover the Tammany Hall trial. That's just getting me out of the way. I've got no come−back. I gotta do it. If I turn it down I'm on the black list, and I can't afford to be on that.”

  Benny said thickly, “And what am I supposed to do? Sit around and let them get away with it?”

  “If I hadn't told you, you wouldn't have done anything. I've got no proof of all this. No, you've got to wait.

  Go and see Grantham and try and sell him some trucks. Try and find out who's taken over the organization.

  Maybe it is Grantham, but somehow I can't see him holding a job of work down as big as that. Anyway, snoop around. Don't start anything. Just snoop. When I get back I'm goin' to go after this business with both hands.”

  Benny said, “If you think I'm going to sit around while Sadie's in those bastards' hands you're crazy. I'm going right over and split Grantham open.”

  “You sucker,” Jay said. “How far will that get you? If you make it too hot you'll ran into a belly−load of slugs. Will that help Sadie? No, there's only one way of handling this, and that's by taki
ng it slow. We can't help her now. Whatever's happened to her or is going to happen to her we can't stop. The cops won't listen to 54

  Miss Callaghan Comes To Grief

  you. You can't force your way in twenty brothels and search for her. You've got to consider she's dead. Do you understand? You're not looking for her, you're avenging her.”

  He got to his feet and went to the door. “I've got to catch my train. Stick around, Perminger, and take it.”

  Benny sat in the chair and watched him go. His hands gripped the chair−arms until his knuckles showed white. He began to swear slowly and obscenely, using words that he never spoke aloud. Then quite suddenly he put his hands over his face and began to cry.

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  21

  June 6th, 3 p.m.

  SADIE OPENED her eyes as the door swung open. She had fallen into an exhausted sleep and her dreams had been terrifying. She sat up on the bed, her hand going to her mouth and her eyes dark with fear.

  Fan came in and shut the door behind her. The silk wrap that she wore outlined her full figure. There was no mistaking what she was.

  Sadie caught her breath when she saw her. Her mouth was so dry that she couldn't say anything.

  “Take it easy,” Fan said, leaning against the door; “I've been told to have a little talk with you.”

  Still Sadie couldn't say anything. She continued to stare at her with growing horror.

  Fan said crossly, “Don't look at me like that. You're givin' me the heebies. Relax, sister.”

  “Who are you?” Sadie managed to get out.

  “What does it matter?” Fan asked, giving a hard little smile. “You worry about yourself. You're in a spot.”

  “Where am I? What does all this mean?”

  Fan came over to the bed and sat down. “I've got to talk to you,” she said. “Don't think I want to, but when I'm told to do anythin' in this joint it's easier to do it than to kick. The old cow downstairs has sent me up to scare you. Well, I ain't goin' to. I'm goin' to tell you what'll be good for you, and what you ought to do.”

  Sadie said, “But tell me where I am.”

  “Can't you guess?” Fan said bitterly. “Take a look at me? What do you think I ama nun?”

  Sadie felt herself go suddenly very cold. She flinched away from Fan.

  “Skip it, sister,” Fan said roughly. “You don't have to take it that way. You're in the same boat as me. I don't know why they've picked on you, but they're goin' to put you through it. If you take my advice you'll do as you're told and get off lightly.”

  Sadie looked at her in horror.

  “There's a nigger who runs this house. She's tough. Make no mistake about it. She's had dozens of girls like you through her hands. Some of them stuck it for a hell of a long time. They wouldn't do what she wanted.

  But they did in the end. You'll do it too. Maybe you don't think you will, but you will.”

  Sadie said, “Get me out of here. I'll give you anything if you'll get me out of here.”

  “Skip it. No amount of that talk will help. I can't do anythin' for you. All I can tell you is what'll come to you if you buck.”

  Sadie controlled her nerves with a great effort. “They won't make me do that,” she said fiercely. “They'll have to kill me first. I won't!”

  Fan took a packet of cigarettes from her pocket. “Have one?” she said, shaking two out on the sheet.

  Sadie didn't even look at them. “If you won't help me, then I want to see someone else,” she said. “You can't do this sort of thing in this country and get away with it.”

  Fan lit a cigarette and put the odd one back in the packet. “Don't be a sap,” she said. “A kid like you don't know anythin'. Listen, sister, have you ever been whipped?”

  Sadie flushed hotly. “What's that got to do with it?”

  “You tell me. Have you?”

  “Of course I haven't. Why should I be?”

  “Well, I have.” Fan said grimly. “And believe me it ain't pleasant. When Carrie comes up she'll explain what she wants done. You'll say yes or no. If it's yes, then you'll be okay; if it's noGawd help you. She'll tie you to that bed and she'll whip you. She'll whip you until you say yes. Don't think she'll get tired of itshe won't. She'll whip you every hour of the day until you can't take any more of it. And when she's broken you you'll be doin' what you said no to in the first place.”

  Sadie said quietly, “She can do anythin' she likes to mebut I'll never agree.”

  Fan sighed. “It's always the same,” she said. “My God, I'm sick of all this! She sends me up to talk you kids into being sensible, but you all say the same. You all think you've got enough guts to take it and in the end you give way. Why don't you be sensible? What the hell's the use of being bashed about, losing your nice skin, just because you ain't got the brains to know when you're sunk?”

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  Sadie shook her head. “Nothin' you can say will make any difference,” she said.

  “Carrie distrusts a dame she has had to beat into submission. She makes sure that she'll stick when she finally gives in. There won't be much kick−back coming from you. Can't you see this is the one time you can't beat the rap? You can't get away. Carrie's got everything the way she wants it. She won't have any mercy on you. I'm tellin' you. Use your nut and give in right away. It'll be tough, but it ain't goin' to be the hell you'll make for yourself if you try and stick it. I've said my little bit. It's up to you. She'll be up in a while. Think it over.” She got off the bed.

  Sadie beat her to it. She darted across the room, wrenched open the door and ran into the passage. Fan grimaced. She made no attempt to intercept her.

  Sadie could see a flight of stairs at the end of the passage. Blindly she ran towards them. Halfway down the stairs she became aware that someone was waiting for her at the bottom. She brought herself up with a jerk.

  Carrie, her flat face expressionless, looked up at her. “Go back to your room,” she said harshly.

  Sadie didn't move. Her heart pounded against her side. She felt as if she had suddenly become involved in a horrible nightmare.

  “Go back to your room,” Carrie repeated.

  Sadie retreated one step up. Then, realizing that this would be her one chance of escape, she said, “You've got to let me godo you hear? You can't do this to me.”

  Carrie began to climb the stairs slowly. Her big mouth gaped in a grin. “Go on back,” she said. “I'm comin'

  to talk to you. Look what I've got for you.”

  Sadie saw she was holding a thin length of whalebone in her hand. She caught her breath and turned to run up the stairs. A powerfully built negro was standing at the head of the stairs, blocking her escape. He grinned at her; his thick lips seemed to split his face in half.

  Paralysed with terror, Sadie turned again. Carrie was right on her. She said, “Go to your room.”

  Sadie suddenly clutched her head between her hands and began to scream. Her screams resounded against the walls.

  The negro ran down the few stairs and grabbed her. She nearly went mad with terror as his great damp hands closed on her.

  “Get her upstairsquick!” Carrie said angrily. “She'll disturb my people.”

  The negro, grinning broadly, carried Sadie up the stairs. Her arms and legs banged against the sides of the wall as he carried her. She twisted and struggled frantically, but the grip round her arms and thighs was immovable. She continued to scream until she heard the door shut with a thud, and then she went limp.

  Carrie said, “She doesn't know anythin' yet. Put her on the bed, Joe.”

  The negro lowered her on to the bed and stood away. His face beamed. Sadie half lay, half crouched, looking at Carrie.

  The mulatto stood, her big hands hanging loosely at her sides and her big eyes blazing with a curious animal expression. “My girls know how to behave themselves in this house,” she said. “You better learn.”

>   Sadie had lost her fear. She was nearly suffocating with rage. Her Southern blood had revolted at the touch of the negro. She said furiously, “You'll pay for this! How dare you touch me!... How dare you touch me!”

  Carrie glanced at the negro. “All right, Joe. Fix her up for me.”

  The negro shuffled across the room. Sadie could see little red tints in his eyes as he came towards her. She said wildly, shrinking back on the bed, “Don't touch me!” And then he was on her. The horrible rancid nigger smell of him sickened her, and she struck at him twice before he pinned her hands. He muttered, “She'll sure take the hide off you for this, baby,” and twisting her arms, he turned her over on her face. His knee rammed down between her shoulders and she felt her hands being fixed to the bedposts.

  Sobbing with rage, she kicked and twisted, moving the bed half across the room. One of her ankles was seized and fastened to the lower bedpost. She kicked wildly with her free leg and she felt a jar as she caught the negro in his chest. He grunted, grabbed the flaying leg and fastened that too. Then he got off the bed and looked at Carrie with a little smirk.

  Sadie pulled and strained on the cords that held her, but they only bit further into her flesh. She was securely tied, face down on the bed.

  Then she gave herself up for lost. No one would come at the last moment and save her from this horror.

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  Miss Callaghan Comes To Grief

  She knew that she would not wake up to find that it had only been some strange and horrible nightmare. It was real and it was happening to her. And when the negro began to rip the clothes off her back she screamed like a terrified child.

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  PART TWO

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  Miss Callaghan Comes To Grief

  1

  August 16th, 10.15 p.m.

  LITTLE JOE walked into the pool−room at the corner of 29th Street. He was pleasantly conscious of the sudden hush that greeted his entrance. Even the guys at the tables paused in their game and looked at him with interest.

  He was something to look at now. His suit was heavily padded at the shoulders and its colour compelled a second glance. When Little Joe first saw it hanging in a window of a Jewish tailor his mouth watered. He'd never seen a suit quite like it. He knew there couldn't be another on the streets that came anywhere near it, so he went inside and bought it. Also he was persuaded to buy a pair of yellow shoes, a bowler hat that only just fitted him and a necktie that, to say the least, was completely surrealist.