I stood there on the corner waiting for the light and a taxi swung by. I had the briefest glimpse inside the back and I saw Velda sitting there with somebody else. I couldn't stop it and I couldn't chase it. I had to stand there and think about it until I was all mixed up and I wasn't going to feel right until I knew the score. An empty cab came along and I told him to take me down to Forty-seventh Street.
The house was in the middle of the block. It was a beat-up affair fifty years old bearing the scars only a neighborhood like that can give it. The doorbell position said Todd lived on the ground floor in back. I didn't have to do any ringing because the front door was open. The hall was littered with junk I had to push aside until I came to the door that had Todd written on the card in the square metal holder.
I didn't have to ring any bells here either. This door was open too. I shoved it open and the light streamed out around me, light that glistened off the fetid pools of vomit on the floor, shining even more ominously from the drops of blood between the pools.
The blood was in the hall too, and the light picked it up. It made sticky sounds on the soles of my shoes.
With a rod in my hand I would have felt better. It's company that can do your talking for you and a voice they listen to. I missed the rod, but I went in anyway but on my toes ready to move if I had to.
Nothing happened.
But I saw what had happened.
The glasses were there on the table with a half-empty bottle of mixer and an almost empty fifth of whisky. Ice had melted in the bowl with a few small pieces floating on top of the water.
On the floor was the remains of a milk bottle and there was blood all over one piece. Velda had given him the chloral treatment and he went out, but somehow he had spilled it out of his system and made a play for her. He would have killed her if he could have but she got him with the milk bottle.
Then it hit me all at once and I felt like adding to the pools on the floor. She had gone about in her search, left for Billy's and Al snapped out of it. He didn't stay cold as she had expected him to and Al would have got the news to him by now.
I made a grab for the phone in the corner, spun the dial to Pat's number again and sweated until he answered. I said, "Listen fast, Pat and no questions. They got Velda. She went up to Billy Mist's place and walked into a trap. Get a squad car up there as fast as you can. Got that? Get her the hell out of there no matter what happens and be damn fast about it because they may be working her over." I shot my number to him and told him to call back as soon as word came through.
When I hung up I was cold with sweat and tasting the cotton in my mouth. I closed the door and hoped Al would come back so I could do things to him myself. I didn't move out of the room until I got impatient waiting for the phone to ring, then I prowled through the place.
There was a full cabinet of liquor I was going to try but the smell of it sickened me when I got the bottle near my mouth so I shoved it back again. Damn it, I thought, why doesn't he call!
I started a butt going, spit it out after a second drag and went around the place some more. To keep my mind still and the buzzing out of my ears I used my eyes and saw why Al kept the place at all. For what he wanted it was a pretty good base of operation. There were souvenirs all over the place. It was a sloppy hovel, but sloppiness was part of the setup and probably nobody complained.
Al must have even done a little work there when he was finished with his parties. There were work sheets and union reports spread out on the table and a batch of company check stubs in the drawer held together by a rubber band. Like a sap he left a pair of empty checkbooks in the same drawer and the hundred and fifty he made a week from the company wouldn't have backed up the withdrawals shown in the books.
So he had a sideline. He cheated the government most likely. Try to find whose name the checking account was in and there'd be fun.
The phone still didn't ring so I rolled a stack of blueprints that showed dock layouts. At least two of them did. Nine of the others were ships, plans that were blown up in detail until they centered around one mass of lines I couldn't make out. I threw them all back on the table and started to walk away as the phone rang.
I caught it before the ring was finished and Pat said, "You Mike?"
"Speaking."
"What're you pulling, kid?"
"Cut the funny stuff, Pat, what happened?"
"Nothing, except a pair of my men are highly squiffed off. Mist was in bed alone. He let the cops in, let them look around, then chewed the hell out of them for pulling a search. He made one phone call and I've been catching it ever since."
I wasn't hearing him. I laid the phone back on its rack and stared at it dumbly. It started to ring again. It went through the motions four times, then stopped.
Outside it had started to rain. It tapped the windows in the back of the room, cutting streaks through the dust. When I looked again the dust was gone completely and the window seemed to have a live wavy motion about it. I pulled the Luckies out of my pocket, lit one and watched the smoke. It floated lazily in the dead air, then slowly followed a draft that crossed the room.
I was thinking things that scared me.
My watch counted off the seconds and each tick was louder and more demanding, screaming not to be wasted.
I went back to the table, unfolded the blueprints, pushed the first two aside and looked at the legend on the bottom of the nine others.
The ship's name was there. Same ship. The name was Cedric.
It was starting to hang together now. When it was too late it was starting to hang together.
They wouldn't kill her yet, I thought. They'd do a lot of things, but they wouldn't kill her until they were sure. They couldn't afford the chance.
Then when they were sure they'd kill her.
Chapter Ten
I slept hard. The rain on the windows kept me asleep and I went through the morning and the rest of the day with all the things I pictured going through my mind and when they came together in one final, horrible ending I woke up. It was nearly six in the evening but I felt better. Time was too important to waste but I couldn't afford to let it pass while I was half out on my feet.
There was a box of frozen shrimp in the refrigerator. I put on the fire and while it cooked up I put through a call. It took two more to locate Ray Diker and his voice sounded as sharp and pinched as his face. He said, "Glad you called, Mike. I was going to buzz you."
"Got something?"
"Maybe. I followed up on Kawolsky. The office he worked for pulled out the records and I got the details. He was hired to cover the Torn kid. She complained that someone was following her and she was a pretty scared baby. She paid the fee in cash and they put Lee on permanent duty. He picked her up in the morning and took her home at night."
"You told me that already, Ray."
"I know, but here's the good part. Lee Kawolsky quit reporting to the office in person after a week of it. He started checking in by phone. The office got ideas about it and put another man outside the apartment and found out Lee was pulling a voluntary twenty-four-hour duty. He was staying with the dame all the time."
"The office complain?"
"What for? It was his business and if she wanted it that way why sound off on it. Her checks still rolled in." "Did they leave it that way?"
"There wasn't much they could do. The report the other investigator sent in said Lee was doing a fairly serious job of bodyguarding. He had already got into a couple of scrapes over her and she seemed to like it."
It was another thread being woven into place. The rope was getting longer and stronger.
Ray said, "You still there?"
"I'm still here."
"What did you call me for then?"
"The driver of the truck who killed Lee. Got that too?"
"Sure. Harvey Wallace. He lives upstairs over Pascale's saloon on Canal Street. You know where the place is."
"I know," I said.
"Might have something here on
Nick Raymond."
"What?"
"He retailed imported tobacco through a concern in Italy. He had his name changed from Raymondo to Raymond before the war. Made a few trips back and forth every year. One of his old customers I ran down said he didn't look like much, but he spent the winters in Miami and dropped a wad of cabbage at the tables there. He was quite a ladies' man too."
"Okay, Ray. Thanks a lot."
"Got a story yet?"
"Not yet. I'll tell you when."
I hung up and turned the shrimp over in the pan. When they were done I ate, finished my coffee and got dressed.
Just as I was going out, the front-door buzzer went off and when I opened it the super was standing there with his face twisted up into one big worry and he said, "You better come downstairs, Mr. Hammer."
Whatever it was he didn't want to speak about in the hall and I didn't ask him. I followed him down, got into his apartment and he motioned with his thumb and said, "In there."
She was sitting on the couch with the super's wife wiping the tears away from her face, filthy dirty and her clothes torn and dust streaked.
I said, "Lily!" and she looked up. Here eyes were red things that stared back at me like a rabbit cornered in its hole.
"You know her, Mr. Hammer?"
"Hell yes, I know her." I sat on the couch beside her and felt her hair. It was greasy with dirt, its luster completely gone. "What happened, kid?"
The eyes filled with tears again and her breath came in short, jerky sobs.
"Let her alone a little bit, Mr. Hammer. She'll be all right." "Where'd you find her?"
"In the cellar. She was holed up in one of the bins. I never would've seen her if I didn't see the milk bottles. First-floor tenants were squawking about somebody stealing their milk. I seen those two bottles and looked inside the bin and there she was. She said to call you."
I took her hand and squeezed it in mine. "You all right? You hurt or anything?"
She licked her lips, sobbed again and shook her head slowly.
The super's wife said, "She's just scared. Supposing I get her cleaned up and into some fresh clothes. She had a bag with her."
White outlined the red of Lily's eyes. She pulled back, her face tight. "No... I... I'm all right. Let me alone, please let me alone!" Then there was something fierce about the way she looked at me and bit out, "Mike... take me with you. Please. Take me with you!"
"She in trouble, Mr. Hammer?"
I looked at him steadily. "Not the kind of trouble you know about."
He saw what I meant, spoke rapidly to his wife in that language of his and her wise little eyes agreed.
"Help me get her upstairs."
The super took her bag, hooked one arm under hers and she came up from the couch. We used the service elevator in the rear, made my floor without meeting anybody and got her inside the apartment.
He said, "Anything I can do to help, just let me know." "Right. Clam up about this. Tell your wife the same." "Sure, Mr. Hammer."
"One other thing. Get me a damn big barrel bolt and slap it on my door."
"First thing tomorrow." He closed the door and I locked it after him.
She sat there in the chair like a kid waiting to be slapped. Her face was drawn and the eyes in it were as big as saucers. I fixed her a drink, made her take it all and filled it up again.
"Feel better?"
"A... little."
"Want to talk?"
Her teeth were a startling contrast to her skin when she bit her lip and nodded.
"From the beginning," I said.
"They came back," she said. Her voice was so low I could barely hear it. "They tried the door and one of them did something with the lock. It... opened. I sat there and I couldn't even scream. I couldn't move. The... the chain on the door stopped them." A shudder went through her whole body.
"They were arguing in whispers outside about the chain, then they closed the door and went away. One of them said they'd need a saw. I... couldn't stay here, Mike. I was terrified. I threw my clothes in the bag and ran out but when I got to the street I was afraid they might still be watching and I went down the cellar! Mike... I'm... I'm sorry."
"That's all right, Lily. I know how it is. Did you see them?"
"No. No, Mike?"
The shudder racked her body again and she bit into her finger.
"When... that man found me... I thought he was... one of them."
"You don't have to worry any more, Lily. I'm not going to leave you here alone again. Look, go in and clean up. Take a nice hot bath and fix your hair. Then get something in your stomach."
"Mike... are you... going out?"
"For a little while. I'll have the super's wife stay with you until I get back. Would you mind that?"
"You'll hurry back?"
I nodded that I would and picked up the phone. The super's wife said she'd be more than glad to help out and would come right up.
From in back of me Lily said, "I'm so dirty. Ask her to bring some rubbing alcohol, Mike."
She said she'd do that too and hung up. Lily had finished her drink and lay with her head against the back of the chair watching me sleepily. The tautness had left her cheeks and color had come back to her mouth. She looked like a dog who had just been lost in the swamp then suddenly found his way home.
I started the water in the tub, filled it and lifted her out of the chair. She was light in my arms, completely relaxed, her breathing soft against my face. There was something too big in her eyes while she was so close to me and the strain of it showed in the corner of her mouth. She dug her fingers into my arms with a repressed hunger of a sort, sucked in her breath in a series of almost soundless staccato jerks and before I could kiss her she twisted her head and buried it against my shoulder.
The super's wife came in while she was still splashing around in the tub. She made clucking noises like a mother hen and wanted to go right to her, but the door was locked so she started scrounging some chow up in the kitchen. The bottle of alcohol was on the table and before I left I knocked on the door.
"You want a rub-down, Lily?"
The water stopped splashing.
"Glad to give you a hand if you want," I said.
She laughed from inside and I felt better. I left the bottle by the door, told the mother hen I was leaving and got.
Seven thirty-two. The gray overcast brought a premature dusk to the city, a gloomy wet shroud that came down and poured itself inside your clothes. It was the kind of night that made the city withdraw into itself, leaving the sidewalks empty and people inside the glass-fronted stores staring aimlessly into the wet.
I left my car where it was and hopped a cab down to Canal. He let me out at Pascale's and I went in the door on the right of the place. Here the hall was clean, clear and well lit. You could hear the hum of voices from the gin mill through the walls, but it diminished as I went up the stairs.
She was a short woman, her hair neatly in place with a ready smile that said hello.
"Mrs. Wallace?"
"Yes."
"My name is Hammer. I'd like to talk to your husband if he's home."
"Certainly. Won't you come in?"
She stepped aside, closed the door and called out, "Harv, there's a gentleman here to see you."
From inside a paper rustled and kids' voices piped up. He said something to them and they quieted down. He came out to the kitchen with that expression one stranger has for another stranger, nodded to his wife, then to me and stuck out his hand.
"Mr. Hammer," his wife said and smiled again. "I'11 go in with the children if you'll excuse me."
"Sit down, Mr. Hammer." He pulled a chair out by the table, waved me into it and took one himself. He was one of those big guys with beefy shoulders and thinning hair. There was Irish in his face and a trace of Scandinavian.
"This'll be quick," I told him. "I'm an investigator. I'm not digging up anything unpleasant just for the fun of it and what you say won't go any furthe
r."
His tongue rolled around his cheek and he nodded.
"Sometime ago you drove the truck that killed a man named Lee Kawolsky."
The side of his face moved. "I explained..."
"You don't get the angle yet," I said. "Wait. As far as you were concerned it was an out-and-out accident Your first. It was one of those things that couldn't be helped so you weren't touched for it."
"That's right."
"Okay. Like I said, it's been a long time since it happened. Nobody else but you saw it. Tell me, have you ever gone over the thing in your mind since?"
Harvey said very quietly, "Mr. Hammer... there are some nights when I never get to sleep at all."
"You could see the thing happen. Sometimes the details would be sharp, then they'd fade?"
He squinted his eyes at me. "Something like that." "What are you uncertain about?" "You know something, Mr. Hammer?" "Maybe."
This time he leaned forward, his face set in a puzzled grimace.
"It's not clear. I see the guy coming out from behind the L pillar and I'm yelling at him while I slam on the brakes. The load in the truck lets go and rams the wall back of the cab and I can feel the wheels... " He stopped and looked down at his hands.
"He came out too fast. He didn't come out walking."
Harvey looked at me, his eyes beseeching. "You know what I mean? I'm not making up excuses."
"I know," I said.
"I came out of the cab fast and he was under the axle. I know I yelled for somebody to help me. Sometimes... I think I remember a guy running. Away, though. Sometimes I think I remember that and I can't be sure."
I stood up and put my hat on. "You can stop worrying then. It wasn't an accident." His eyes came wide open. "It was murder. Kawolsky was pushed. You were the sucker."
I opened a door, waved a finger at him. "Thanks for the help." "Thank... you, Mr. Hammer."
"It's over with so there's no use fooling with the report," I said. "No... but it's good to know. I won't be waking up in the middle of the night any more now."
Ten minutes after nine. In the lobby of the hotel a row of empty telephone booths gaped at me. Two people were sitting in the far corner holding hands. One other, not looking as though he belonged there, was reading the paper and dripping water all over the floor.
Kiss Me, Deadly mh-6 Page 13
