“Keep it to yourself or she’ll be hitting me up for a raise before she sings a note on stage. Set us up, Joe.”
Joe poured a beer for Ed, and then reached for the Johnny Walker. I licked my lips and shook my head. “I’ve sworn off the hard stuff, Joe. Just give me a beer.” I might as well have said I was giving up on women. Joe’s hand stopped halfway to the bottle and I saw Ed watching me in the mirror with a bemused look on his face.
I ignored their stares and pulled out my Luckies. Joe chuckled, grabbed a book of matches from beneath the counter, and tossed them at me. He placed a tin ashtray that advertised the club on the counter, and drew me a beer.
“Didn’t he quit once before, boss? Something about wanting to do right by a girl. Told me not to give him a drink under any circumstances. Next day he sat in the same stool he’s sitting in now and told me he was kidding.”
“Don’t you have some kind of a rule about the help harassing the paying customers, Ed?”
Joe looked like he was going to choke. “When was the last time you paid for a drink at The Coaster Club? 1922?”
“He’s got a point, Jim.” Ed picked up my Luckies and took one for himself. “How long you been dry?”
“Four days.”
“Must be a woman,” Joe said.
I shot him a look that was meant to shut him up. It almost worked.
He picked up a towel and added, “I better get things ready to open.”
“You gonna fill me in?” Ed asked.
I chugged half my beer, took a deep breath, and started talking. I told him about my trip to see the Boston copper, about being arrested, and about Hank Greeley. Finally I told him about Helen’s will and Mary.
When I’d finished he said, “So the real question is, does Boyle think you did it, or is he just lazy?”
“At first I thought he was looking for an easy way out,” I said. “Now I’m not so sure. He’s working awful hard to prove me guilty. I’m doing all his work for him. It would be easier for him to listen to me. It’s like he’s got a personal vendetta against me.”
“What did you do to him?”
“Nothing, I swear. I’ve always been a little mouthy toward him, but I can say the same thing about half the coppers on the force.”
Ed finished his beer and looked into the empty glass as if the answers were hidden deep within. “So you think maybe this Doctor, what’s his name--Greeley--killed Helen and these other girls?”
I reached for my own half-empty glass. “I can tie him to Helen and Ethel Bloomberg, the woman who was killed in Boston. Ruth Havarette’s mother told me a doctor approached her and her husband at Ruth’s funeral and said he treated her for something. I don’t know what. Could be Greeley, could be coincidence.”
“I don’t believe in coincidence,” Ed said.
“Me neither.” I grabbed another cigarette, lit it from the one in my hand, and stubbed the butt out in the little tin ashtray. I was smoking more than usual and I wondered if it had anything to do with cutting back on my drinking, or my fear of going to jail.
“What about the other actress?” Ed asked. “The one killed along with her husband?”
“Haven’t been able to trace anything on her yet,” I said.
“If you can prove Greeley knew these two other women, it’ll pretty much point a finger at the good doctor. Even Boyle won’t be able to ignore the evidence.”
“So far I haven’t been able to link these other women to Greeley,” I said. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to prove he knew them.”
Ed grabbed his glass, leaned across the bar top, and refilled it from the spigot. “Want me to top you off?”
I gritted my teeth and refused to look at my glass. “Better not.”
Ed sat back down and spun his chair around. “I imagine a doctor like this Greeley would keep some kind of records on his clients.”
“I saw some file cabinets when I was at his office this afternoon.”
“There’s your answer,” Ed said.
“He’s not going to show me his records.”
“What if we were to go out to his office tonight, break in, and take a look for ourselves.”
Ed said it as if he broke into a different building every night. It was something that had never occurred to me. A week earlier I would have told him he was nuts. Of course, a week ago I wasn’t looking at the electric chair as one of my retirement options.
“I didn’t know you could pick a lock,” I said.
“I can’t.”
“So we’re going to what, break down the door and hope nobody notices?”
Ed finished off his second beer and slid off the stool. “I’ve got a friend, Toots Mulligan, who can pick any lock he comes across. I’m gonna go back to the office and see if I can run him down.”
“Why do they call him Toots?”
“Let’s just say you don’t want to be caught in an elevator with the man,” Ed said as he walked away.
I considered the possible repercussions. What the hell could happen to me—I could go to jail, but I was already looking at a trip to Sing-Sing and maybe a shocking ride in the chair. I needed to prove my innocence. Suddenly, how I did it wasn’t as important as getting it done. By the time Ed returned, I was ready to go with or without Toots Mulligan.
“We’re on,” Ed said. “Toots will meet us at the doctor’s office at one o’clock.”
“In the morning?”
“In his words, ‘the city is asleep by then, and those that ain’t sleeping are out looking for trouble themselves’.”
“All right,” I said. “I’d better head home and get a couple hours sleep.”
“Why don’t you crash in Alice’s room? I’m sure she won’t mind.”
“Like I said, she’s a nice kid, but I got a woman on my mind.”
“Who?”
“Mary Rutledge.”
“Your lawyer?”
I nodded and started to say something else when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I took a quick peek in the mirror and saw Alice standing two steps away from me. She looked like a startled fawn, and I thought I saw tears welling in her eyes. As soon as she realized I was watching her, she took off running across the club toward the ladies room.
“Awkward,” Ed said.
I picked up my glass, drained the rest of the beer and wished I had a shot to go with it. “I’d better go see if I can make amends. Alice is a sweet kid and I don’t want her to think I was leading her on.”
“Good luck on that,” Ed said.
As I approached the ladies room I could hear her crying. When I knocked, she grew silent.
“Can I talk to you, Alice?”
“Go away.”
“I didn’t want you to get the impression I…”
“I’m being silly,” she said. “And you’re embarrassing me.”
“I wanted to explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain. You’ve already got a girl and I should have known better. It’s just that you seemed interested. The other night I mean. Now please leave me alone.”
“Why don’t you come on out so we can talk,” I said.
She didn’t say anything so I knocked again. This time when she said “Go away,” I did.
“She’s got it bad for you,” Ed said, as I sat back down next to him.
“I haven’t done anything to encourage her.”
Joe slid another beer in front of me. “Dames are funny,” he said. “Sometimes not encouraging ‘em, encourages ‘em. I wish she’d give me the time of day.”
I downed the beer in three gulps, handed the empty glass back to Joe, and slid off my stool. “I can’t worry about it now. I’ve got to get some sleep.” I looked over at Ed and added, “I’ll be back a little before twelve.”
Sweat began to bead on my forehead as soon as I stepped outside. After the relative quiet of the club I found the hum of the stop-and-go traffic distracting. I took off my jacket, and as I slung it over my shoulder I glanced acros
s the street.
The area around the club was made up of small retail stores and restaurants. The ladies clothing shop across the street was closed, but I could have sworn I saw someone duck into the darkened doorway.
I stopped, took out my cigarettes and matches, and looked across the street as I lit up. Running my eyes along the storefront I studied the doorway. I had about decided my imagination was playing games with me when the shadow in front of the door broadened. I still couldn’t see the person standing in the doorway, but I knew he could see me.
As if to taunt me, the shadow shifted again and a man stepped onto the sidewalk. He was tall and thin, and I didn’t need to see his face to recognize Boyle. He wanted me to know he was watching me. When he was sure I’d seen him, he slid back into the darkness.
The entire way home I kept imagining footsteps creeping up behind me. Each time I looked over my shoulder no one was there. Still, I could feel him. When I entered the doorway of my apartment building, I glanced back and saw Boyle turn into Stanley Kowalski’s bar down the street.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I spent the next three hours sitting at my desk in a dark room smoking and wondering how the hell I was going to get back to the Coaster Club.
I was exhausted and having trouble putting together a plan. A knot the size of a grapefruit was growing in the small of my back, and my hands were shaking as if I’d chugged a fifth of whiskey.
Every once in awhile I’d get up and wander over to the window. I never spotted Boyle again, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t down there waiting for me. Police headquarters was only three blocks away. He could have dragged some other coppers out of there to look out for me. Twice I picked up the phone and started to call Ed’s number to cancel our plans. Both times I hung up before it started to ring.
Ed was right. I needed to see Greeley’s files. What I didn’t need was Boyle following me and catching us in the act of breaking into the doctor’s office. When the time came for me to leave my room I realized there was only one way out. I pulled my flashlight from the top drawer of my desk, and swore when I flipped it on. Nothing. I didn’t have any extra batteries so I tossed it back and headed out the door.
I took the steps two at a time up to the sixth floor, opened the door to the roof, and crept out into the darkness. It had cooled a little, but the night was still and the air smelled putrid, as if all the stink of the city had risen as far as it could, and then sat there waiting for a breeze to kick in and move it along.
The lights of the skyscrapers in the distance didn’t reach my little piece of the world and even the moon refused to show itself and help me out. If Boyle looked up right then he wouldn’t be able to see me, but I stooped anyway and ran over to where the next building met mine.
I’d often taken this shortcut during the day. I knew there was a three foot space between the two buildings. In the sunlight, crossing between the two buildings had never been a problem, but when I reached the edge of the roof I stopped and looked down. There’s something about the night that stirs our doubts and fears.
I’d made the jump dozens of times, but when I peered over the edge, the abyss seemed as challenging as hurdling the Grand Canyon and I froze. I considered my options and looked over at the concrete lip of the next roof. It was now or never. I backed up three steps and took a running leap.
I landed flat-footed and it took an effort to regain my balance. As I approached the door I thought, wouldn’t it be a bitch if it was locked. It opened without a hitch. I ran down the steps and exited onto Lafayette, a block from my apartment and out of sight of any coppers who might have been watching for me. By the time I reached the Coaster Club I was convinced I didn’t have a tail.
Ed was waiting for me and we drove in his car. We parked three blocks away from Greeley’s office and I was surprised when several cars zipped by. “I forgot how much traffic there is in this area, even after midnight.”
“A lot of the theaters let out late,” Ed said. We climbed out of the car and he grabbed a small satchel off the seat before following me down the street.
We didn’t talk as we made our way to the office. I thought I had myself pretty much under control, yet every few steps I found myself glancing over my shoulder to see if were being followed.
Finally, Ed said, “If you walk around acting guilty, someone’s going to think you are. Buck up, take a deep breath, and pick up your pace. Look around; the traffic’s already clearing out.”
He was right. We were two blocks from the office and there were only a few cars on the street and no pedestrians. When we reached Greeley’s building I began to relax, but I jumped when a man stepped around the corner of the building. He was short and stout and wore his hat pulled down over his eyes so that it was hard to see his features in the weak light cast by the street lamps.
“You’re late,” he said.
Ed made a show of checking his watch. “It’s three minutes after one, Toots.”
“Got my dough?”
Ed pulled a bill from his pocket and handed it over.
Toots held it up to the light and shook his head. “You said twenty on the phone, this is a sawbuck.”
“Half now—half when we get in,” Ed said.
The bill disappeared and Toots led us to the door. He took two small tools out of his pocket and began fiddling with the lock. I heard the lock click and he reached out, turned the knob, and opened the door a crack. He then swung around and held out his hand, blocking the doorway with his body.
Ed took out another bill and held it up. “This is between us Toots. I don’t want this getting around.”
“I ain’t no stoolie.” He snatched the bill from Ed’s hand and it disappeared faster than the other one had. “Here’s a freebie for ya. I been casing the place for a couple hours. The street bull makes it by here every hour, about ten to the hour. He comes from that way,” Toots nodded to the east. “Takes his time walkin’ the street. He checks every third or fourth door to make sure it’s locked. If you’re not out of here before then, give him ten minutes to get out of sight.”
At that moment Toots groaned, clutched his stomach, and passed gas. There was no apology, he just edged around Ed and started walking down the street in the same direction we’d come from.
Ed opened the door and I followed him inside, pushing the door closed behind me. The room was dark except for a slight crack of light coming in from where the window drapes met. Ed took a flashlight from his bag, handed it to me and said, “Lock the door first, then hold the light in the palm of your hand with your fingers covering the lens. Spread ‘em enough to let a small beam show. We don’t want anyone passing by to see any reflections in here.”
“The next room is windowless,” I said. “File cabinets are in the corner of this room.”
“Remember, smaller the beam the better,” Ed said. “Once we find the files we want, we’ll take them into the back office to read them.”
“The front door is our only way out of here,” I pointed out as I led the way to the cabinets. “Why don’t we take the files and get the hell out of here?”
“That would be a dead giveaway someone was here,” Ed said. “After your little set to with the doctor this afternoon, don’t you think you’d be the number one suspect?”
“He couldn’t prove anything. His word against mine.”
“You’re already a suspect in a murder case. You think the coppers will take your word over his?”
“Good point.”
Ed waited until we were across the room, and then he said, “I’ll take the file cabinets, you check out the desk. It’s possible that after you met with him he might have removed the files. We’ll have to hope for the best. What were those names we were looking for again?”
“Helen, Ethel Bloomberg, Ruth Havarette, and although I haven’t found anything to connect Greeley to her, let’s try Anna Ingerson too.” I opened the top drawer of the desk and started searching. I found a ream of typing paper, a package of carbon p
aper, two note pads, and half-a-dozen pens. I hoped Ed was having better luck.
There was a Remington typewriter pushed over to the side on top of the desk, a pipe rack with three pipes that looked like they had never been used, and a row of books including several books on psychology and a copy of The Sun Also Rises. Because it was the same title I’d found among Helen’s things, this piqued my curiosity. I slid the book out and carried it over to the file cabinet where Ed was on his knees going through the bottom drawer.
“Find anything?” I asked.
“File on Helen, one of Bloomberg and one on Havarette.” He closed the bottom drawer and stood up. “Nothing on Ingerson. How about you?”
“I’m not sure,” I said.
“What are you holding?” Ed asked as he picked up the files he’d taken from the cabinet. Before I could answer someone rattled the doorknob to the outer door.
“Douse the lights.” Ed flicked off his flashlight. I followed suit as he ran over to the window and peeked out through the crack in the drapes. When I moved up alongside of him he put his lips to my ear and whispered, “Copper walking the beat. He’s not stopping.”
“Think he saw our lights?”
“He wouldn’t have walked away if he did. Come on. Let’s get this thing done so we can get out of here.” Ed turned his flashlight back on and led the way to the next office. When we were both inside, he closed the door and turned on the overhead light.
We carried the files to the chairs in the middle of the room and Ed held two of the files out in front of me.
“Choose one,” he said. “I’ll read Helen’s.”
“I think I…”
Ed held up a hand. “You don’t want to know what she spoke to Greeley about. She's sure to have talked about you. Whatever she told him is going to hurt. We want to know if there’s any connection between the three girls besides the fact they were all patients. For instance, are there any personal notes to indicate there was more than a doctor-patient relationship? Does he mention the other girls to each other? That sort of thing.”
I opened my mouth to protest, and then shut it. He was right. I couldn’t be objective about Helen. I wanted to know whatever secrets the file might reveal, but in the end I gave in and took one of the other files from him. It was Ethel Bloomberg’s.
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