The Black Lizard Big Book of Pulps

by Penzler, Otto

  The nurse who let us in was not so much surprised, but the lad in the white coat, who came out of the little room behind her, was more than surprised. He was shocked, and let us know it.

  “Mrs. Gorgon—really. You can’t see her, of course. And at this hour, under no circumstances.”

  “I know it’s irregular.” O’Rourke scratched his head.

  “Irregular!” Doctor Importance, in the white coat, elevated his nose to avoid the stench of our presence. “It’s impossible.”

  “Police business.” O’Rourke produced his shield. “And damned important police business. We’ll see the lady at once.”

  The nose came down and had to breathe the same air with us.

  “May I—? You have authority, of course.” But there wasn’t much confidence in the young doctor’s voice. He was simply repeating something he had read some place.

  “You see the ticket of admission to the show.” O’Rourke shoved the badge up higher. “I’ll see Mrs. Gorgon now, just us two. Or if you want to stand on ceremony, I’ll bring in the boys and make a party of it.”

  “I—I may notify Doctor Revel?” he half stammered. “It’s—We couldn’t disturb the other patients. Surely you wouldn’t—Good God! It’s not a raid. Not a raid, here.”

  “Never mind Doctor Revel. Come on, shake a leg.” And we were all three leaving the room.

  There was no doubt that O’Rourke had bulldozed the young doctor into taking us to Mrs. Gorgon’s, or Madame’s room.

  “She has a weak heart, a very weak heart. You’ll—”

  “Tut, tut, young feller, me lad.” O’Rourke was patronizing. “We’re here to protect her.” And as we left the elevator and entered the little white room, O’Rourke said, “Doctor Revel will be glad we came. You can notify him now.” With that he pushed the young doctor into the hall, hesitated a moment, saw the nurse that came down the long corridor toward us, and holding the door open, said:

  “We’re police officers, Miss. We’ve got to question Mrs. Gorgon. Better come along with us.” And to me, “I’m taking a chance, Race, but I think it’s justified—but we better have this young lady with us.”

  O’Rourke switched on the light, closed the young doctor out in the hall, motioned the nurse toward the bed, and finding no key in the lock, dragged a chair against the door. The nurse was bright but slightly nervous. However, if she resented our presence, or even found it distasteful, she didn’t let us know it. She obeyed O’Rourke to the letter.

  We stood back while she approached the bed and spoke to the restless form upon it. The brown eyes opened now and blinked in the light— searching—fearful—dead, haunted eyes. Perhaps as the eyes of The Flame had been, for a moment.

  “Two gentlemen to see you, Madame. Two gentlemen,” the nurse repeated, softly. “They want to talk to you. They—”

  And Madame saw us. A withered hand went to the scraggy hair; a sheet was jerked quickly up to hide the discoloration on her neck, and almost as quickly the twisted hand went back under the clothes again. She spoke, her teeth getting in the way of her words.

  “They mustn’t see me, Miss Agnes—not like this. I’m not ready to receive callers. Two gentlemen, Miss Agnes? One a young man, a handsome young man, like—. No—no.” And off she went under the covers.

  But I won’t go into the tricks of Madame. Both O’Rourke and I were glad we had the nurse, Miss Agnes, with us.

  She looked at us once, more questioning than disdainfully. But O’Rourke held his ground.

  “I must talk to her,” he told the nurse, and at her suggestion we parked ourselves behind the bed screen while Madame was made what she called “respectable.”

  She talked too. Clearly enough sometimes, incoherently at others.

  She sort of wandered on.

  “No mirror, Miss Agnes. But then, I never have a mirror. What do you think the gentlemen wish, Miss Agnes? The young man, now—he came to see me once before. My skin does not feel so soft and beautiful—but then, my hand has lost its sense of touch. A little more powder, my dear. I’m sure, a little powder. It’s my vanity, Miss Agnes.” She lowered her voice to a hoarse whisper. “My husband was always so jealous,” and she giggled. It was a girlish giggle. It was eerie. “Now, why can’t I see myself, just once. He was a musician, so young, so handsome. He adored me, played to me, wrote a song just for me. And this accident. No, he mustn’t see my twisted body. But my face, it is still beautiful, my eyes, at least. Michelle always said so, until last week. There— put my hand beneath the coverlet, and—”

  We stepped out and saw the woman. What a hideous sight she was! Far worse now for the powder and rouge and nightcap on her head. But most of all it was the glint in her eyes—the simper to cracked lips that were now a vivid red. The yellow skin, great patches of it raw flesh, that were more horrible for the thickness of the rouge and the great daubs of powder.

  “Madame is ready,” said the nurse, Miss Agnes, looked at us. Partly in warning, maybe, for the woman was indeed terrible to look at.

  O’Rourke jerked erect, went to the bed and sat down upon it.

  “Mrs. Gorgon,” he said. “We—I’m a friend. I heard you had some trouble. You wanted to talk about it with me.”

  “Trouble, to talk with you? I thought—. But then, maybe it is not true—and it is my face also. It was a very beautiful face. Who are you?”

  “I am a police officer. I—”

  The door knob turned, the chair slipped, and O’Rourke swung his head and spoke to me.

  “Keep him in the hall,” he said.

  And I did. I pushed through the door and backed the gray haired man into the hall before me. He was wearing a dark dressing gown, and plenty of dignity.

  “I am Doctor Revel,” he said. “What is the meaning of this intrusion?”

  And you had to admire the doctor. He didn’t fuss and fume, and I didn’t give him any heavy line.

  “Police duty.” I let it go at that, but I blocked the doorway.

  The doctor looked at his wrist watch.

  “Let me see your warrant,” he said.

  “Everything’s Okay,” I told him. “You have no cause for alarm. It—”

  “If things were strictly as they should be, you would have seen me first.”

  “You can take the matter up with Headquarters in the morning, if you’re not satisfied with the proceedings.” I pretended an indifference.

  “That has already been attended to.” The doctor nodded. “At least, the police precinct nearest the hospital has been called. To me, the matter is very serious indeed. I can not of course create a disturbance in the hospital; there are some very sick people here. The disturbance, my dear friend, will be created tomorrow, make very sure of that.” The doctor had a mean sort of calm about him.

  The woman inside screamed. The nurse spoke quickly. I think O’Rourke cursed, but I’m not sure. But the doctor stiffened, and I stuck my head back in the door and said:

  “The head doctor’s here and he’s not friendly and he’s telephoned the precinct.”

  And the doctor stepped by me and into the room. Of course I could have stopped him, but I didn’t. I wasn’t fooling with any medical student now, and I knew it. This guy cut some ice.

  He ignored O’Rourke and went straight to the woman on the bed, bent over her a moment, pulled out the twisted hand, pressed his other hand across her forehead, spoke quickly to the nurse, and I saw the bottle from which she measured the drops. It was digitalis. A strong heart stimulant.

  O’Rourke and I stood around like a couple of saps. At length the doctor turned on O’Rourke and backed us toward the door.

  “Well—” he said, when he had us in the hall, “have you an explanation?”

  O’Rourke stiffened, and the bulldog chin shot out. The cop was ever dominant. He wouldn’t take water even then. He was a tough old bird, and no mistake.

  “Yes, I have,” he said. “You read about the murder in Elrod’s Sanitarium last week. Do you want to see tha
t poor woman there snuffed out the same way? Don’t high hat me, Doctor. I’ve been on the Force too long. And don’t look so hurt. You read your papers. If you don’t, some one must have told you. You know who that woman is. You know who brought her here. And you know what the name Gorgon stands for— unless you simply think, like a lot of others, that it stands for money only.”

  It was good stuff. The doctor didn’t seem so cocky. Oh, his dignity was still there, but it had dents all over it. Finally he won out, and said:

  “Are you hinting that my cupidity made me, made me take in this unfortunate woman?”

  “I’m hinting at nothing,” said O’Rourke. “Doctor Gorgon buys what he wants. That woman’s life is in grave danger, and not from what’s ailing her. I came in, didn’t I? And he came in, didn’t he?” O’Rourke jerked a thumb at me. “Now, what’s to prevent some one else coming in, who hasn’t got the woman’s interest at heart, like us? And you can’t throw hard looks and pompous words down the muzzle of a murderer’s gun. Nor will they wait while you notify the nearest precinct.”

  Doctor Revel had a mental picture of the stabbing at Elrod’s, I guess. A mental picture that for the first time he permitted himself to think might happen in his tony establishment. His placid map and dignity of bearing were playing him false.

  “I never guessed. I didn’t know.” He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. O’Rourke wasn’t a bad talker, a bad cop. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why—”

  “Because I thought maybe you’d do just what you did do. Start the phone working. Get the newspapers into it, and—”

  “The papers? The newspapers? The woman must go, of course. She’s strong enough to move. We can’t keep her here. She must go.” The doctor was getting panicky. The word “murder” had thrown him.

  “I thought—” O’Rourke started—clamped his mouth shut again and looked down the hall.

  The slow old fashioned elevator had come to a stop. The door opened almost silently and a figure stepped into the light. It was Doctor Michelle Gorgon. Malacca cane, gray suede gloves, black ribbon dangling from his glasses, and all.

  CHAPTER XXIII

  DOCTOR MICHELLE GORGON

  “Really,” Michelle Gorgon said when he reached us. “Doctor Revel, Mr. Williams, and our dear friend, Sergeant O’Rourke. Surely something must have happened. Not, Madame, not a bad turn. Not—”

  “You’ll have to move your wife, Doctor Gorgon.” Doctor Revel got that off first crack. “We can’t have a scandal here. We—”

  “Scandal! You will explain yourself, Doctor.” And Michelle Gorgon’s voice was just the right pitch, just the right touch of doubtful indignation.

  O’Rourke didn’t try to stop Revel. I guess it would have been useless just then.

  “Sergeant O’Rourke tells me that your wife— that she may be murdered here, and—”

  “Good Lord! an attempt on her life.” Michelle Gorgon clutched at his heart—and, damn it! looked as if he meant it.

  “No—no. But there will be—there is to be—. Sergeant O’Rourke—”

  And O’Rourke horned in.

  “It’s like this,” he said easily. “I was tipped off that there would be, or might be, an attempt on her life. I came here to see that everything was right, just right. No objections to that, eh, Doctor Gorgon?”

  “Most certainly not. Most commendable.” Michelle Gorgon nodded approval. “But, really, it seems absurd. Why should any one wish to harm her? Poor thing, she has not long for this world, I’m afraid.”

  “Vengeance on you, Doctor,” said O’Rourke. “That might be it.”

  “On me, on me. But surely. Ah! yes, I see. This imaginary hue and cry in the yellow sheets. Connecting me up with my brother’s activities. We make enemies in life, of course. We—” He put both hands to his head. Not tragically, not dramatically even—rather, a natural movement—which, if acting, was superb. “My wife, Madame. I shall see her. I shall comfort her.” This, as Madame called out.

  And he did comfort her. At least he quieted her in the few minutes he was alone in the room with his wife, while we stood in the hall, Doctor Revel still insisting that the woman be moved, and O’Rourke just as insistent that she stay at the hospital.

  “You can’t throw her out tonight. The papers would get hold of you and razz you. To move her would work right into their hands if—” And O’Rourke, seeing that that wasn’t a good line, killed it with a sudden snap to his lips. Doctor Revel was interested in human life, of course. But naturally he was interested in the reputation of his establishment. Certainly, any one will admit that a murder in his hospital wouldn’t help business any.

  “I’ll tell you,” said O’Rourke. “I could put a couple of men in the house for you, or better still, one inside and one outside.”

  “Wouldn’t that be conspicuous?” But Doctor Revel was coddling to the idea now.

  “They’ll be in plain clothes. You might even tack a white coat on the inside one. He can stay by the woman’s door. That’ll protect your hospital, my reputation, and the woman’s life. But here’s Doctor Gorgon.” And O’Rourke turned and told Michelle Gorgon what was on his mind.

  Michelle Gorgon seemed enthusiastic.

  “Excellent, Sergeant. Madame won’t have to know, and won’t have to be unprotected. That is settled then, though I think and hope that Sergeant O’Rourke’s information about that unfortunate woman is—is erroneous. But you disturbed her, Sergeant. Oh, unintentionally, I know. What you said to her I could not discover, of course, from her. Her mind does not function coherently on the same thought for five minutes. Does it, Doctor?” He smiled encouragingly at Doctor Revel.

  “She is lucid at times,” said Revel. “She talks often of some imaginary poet or musician whom she loves. She would rather die before he could see her as she is, and—and—. Huh—huh—” The doctor cleared his throat as Michelle Gorgon frowned slightly. “Nothing odd in that hallucination, sir. To the contrary, rather to be expected.”

  “No,” O’Rourke whispered to me. “Nothing wrong in that, Race, because it happens to be the truth.”

  Then the front doorbell rang, and a cop was at the door, and some explanations were in order in the little reception room below.

  Michelle Gorgon insisted that Doctor Revel see the patient, Madame, once more before he left.

  “It will ease my mind, Doctor,” Gorgon said. “It is some time since I was interested actively in medicine. I have brought her a few books, rather trashy, Doctor. Love stories, the old ten and fifteen cent variety. But she seems to be able to read them, or get snatches from them, for they ease her mind. Kindly let her have the light on until she becomes calmer. I do not wish to interfere, of course, with the regulations of the hospital, but she has been in the habit of awakening and reading until one-thirty, or playing at reading. She likes, too, to be alone when she reads. Miss Agnes can wait outside her door, or—as you see fit.”

  Doctor Revel left us. Five minutes later he returned. Not a word had been spoken between us as we waited.

  “Mrs. Gorgon is rather restless and disturbed, but didn’t wish to talk to me,” Doctor Revel told Michelle Gorgon.

  “There is no danger!” Michelle Gorgon came to his feet. “Nothing—”

  “If you mean that she may take a bad turn in the night. Certainly not. Not more than any other night. But I expect that she will have a restless night, a most unsatisfactory night.”

  And he looked around at the three of us, seemingly to place the blame equally between us.

  “May I drive you gentlemen home?” There was perhaps the slightest twist to Michelle Gorgon’s lips as he spoke.

  “I’ll stay here for a bit,” said O’Rourke. And when Doctor Revel frowned, “Just till I get a man over. And I won’t disturb your patient further tonight.”

  Michelle Gorgon looked at me.

  “And you, my dear Williams, will you favor me with your company?”

  “I don’t know if I’ll favor you—but I’ll go
along with you. I’d like a talk with you.”

  “Talk, talk seriously?” He stopped and looked down at me as we descended the steps of the private hospital.

  “Seriously.” I nodded, and meant it.

  “Then you will come home with me, to my sanctuary, to my library. You’re not afraid, of course?”

  “Hardly.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Are you?”

  “Really, you joke. Really, Williams, I would fear you more dead than living. For the memory of the dead always so far outshines and even magnifies the petty significance of the living.”

  “I don’t get that,” I told him. And what’s more, I wasn’t sure that he got it. Somehow I had the idea that Doctor Gorgon’s pretty vanities with words were simply the wish being father to the thought, and in his case, perhaps, farther from the thought. In plain words, I mean he’d like to be considered one of the literati, and was far from it.

  “No, perhaps you don’t understand it. But tonight I shall not be epigrammatic. You will get in?” We had reached his car.

  “No. I’ve got my own boat, and may need it later. I’ll follow you home.”

  Michelle Gorgon shook his head.

  “Do not follow me.” And when I showed some surprise, “Precede me. To follow is dangerous. It might be misunderstood. Your life may become very precious to me. I am glad you have not run across my brother, Eddie. You see, he understands that your sudden evaporation from our every day existence would not be entirely displeasing to me. You are very fortunate, Williams. For the time being, I have taken you off what we so vulgarly hear expressed as ‘the spot.’ “

  “Why?” I stopped as I moved toward my car, behind his.

  “Why?” He hesitated a moment, and then, “Because I have suddenly decided to go out in society. Because I have decided to marry again. I would rather, for a bit, at least until after this marriage, be compared with the living rather than the dead.”

  “But you are married.” The thing just blurted out.