'I'm all through,' Lowis said, resting his bag on the table. 'She was killed between one and three o'clock. I can't get it closer than that. She was struck on the head while taking a shower. I'd say it was a flat, heavy weapon ... like a tyre lever. The killer dragged her from the shower and threw her on the bed. Then he stabbed her with considerable violence. She was ripped after she was dead.'
'Okay. Doc,' Terrell said, getting to his feet. 'Let's have a detailed report as soon as you can get it on my desk. This is going to be a tricky one to solve. I'll need all the help I can get.'
When Lowis had gone, Beigler came in.
'Nothing so far.' as Terrell looked at him inquiringly.
'These cabins get cleaned once a month by the look of them. Dozens of finger prints everywhere, but so far they don't mean a thing. Hess has got them all and he's going back to check the files. We might be lucky, but I doubt it. No sign of a weapon. The boys are making a search, but it's my bet the killer took the weapon with him. One of the occupiers of a cabin three away from the murder cabin says she heard a car arrive around one o'clock. It drove away again some twenty minutes later ... could have been the killer.'
Terrell tapped the address book.
'Lots of work here,' he said. 'Looks like this woman was a prostitute. The names of over two hundred men with their telephone numbers are listed in here. The only woman listed could be her sister or her mother: Joan Parnell. She lives on Le Jeune Road, near the airport. We'd better see her right away.' He tossed the address book to Beigler. 'I guess anyone of the men listed in there could be the boy we want. It's going to be some job, but we'll have to check every one of them. Let's go see Joan Parnell. She might give us a quick lead.'
Beigler put the address book in his pocket, then followed Terrell out of the cabin. Terrell had a brief word with Hess.
'See if you can get anything more out of Henekey.' he said. 'Keep the boys searching for the knife. Check all gas stations to see if any car stopped between one and three this morning for gas. It's pretty hopeless, but we might have a little luck. At that time, there isn't much traffic. Talk to everyone here. Get their names and addresses. We'll have to check them all ... could be a sex killer is among them, but I doubt it. I'll be back at headquarters in a couple of hours. Call me if you get anything. Take your time. This one isn't going to be cracked in five minutes.'
Joining Beigler, Terrell got into the police car, letting Beigler drive. They reached Le Jeune road just after half-past two, having stopped for a few minutes at a cafe for a sandwich and a cup of coffee.
Joan Parnell had a neat brick and plaster bungalow that stood in a row of similar bungalows. There was a tiny garden full of roses, a path that led to the front door over which climbed a flourishing Paul's Scarlet.
Leaving the car, the two men walked up the path and Beigler dug his thumb into the bell push. There was a brief delay while Terrell looked uneasily up and down the long, empty road. This distressing business of breaking the news of violent death always worried him, but it was something he never pushed on to any of his men.
The door opened abruptly and a woman regarded them. She was dark, slim, around forty with a mannish haircut and her gaunt features revealed a strength of character Terrell had seldom seen in a woman's face. She wore an open neck sports shirt and blue slacks. A cigarette dangled from her thin lips and a faint aroma of gin hung over her.
'Mrs. Parnell?' Terrell asked, lifting his hat.
'Miss Parnell?' the woman said and looked sharply at him. 'You're the police, aren't you? What is it?'
'Terrell, Chief of Police,' Terrell said. 'Sergeant Beigler. Could we come in?'
She gave both men another searching stare, then turned and led the way into a small lounge, comfortably furnished, but well used. There were books everywhere, and on the table stood a bottle of Gordon's gin, a jug full of iced water and a used glass.
The woman went over to the table, poured a big shot of gin into a glass, added a little water before saying, 'Well? What it is?'
'You are a relation of Sue Parnell?' Terrell asked.
She took a long thirsty drink, then hunched her shoulders. 'So that's it ... I might have guessed. Yes, she's my sister.' She looked hard at Terrell, then her mouth tightened. 'Is she dead?'
Terrell drew in a breath of relief.
'I'm afraid she is, Miss Parnell.'
To his surprise, she asked, 'Murdered?'
'Yes.'
Joan Parnell stubbed out her cigarette. She covered her eyes with her hand for a brief moment, then she stiffened, reached for the glass and finished the drink. She lit another cigarette and then walked across to a big lounging chair and sank into it.
'Sit down,' she said. 'Where did it happen?'
'The Park Motel at Ojus,' Terrell said, sitting down near her. Beigler took a seat at the table and opened his notebook.
'I've continually warned her,' the woman said in a cold, flat voice, 'but that doesn't help, does it. Do you know who did it?'
'Not yet,' Terrell said. 'I'm hoping you could help me.'
'It could be anyone. My sister led the kind of life that must eventually end in violence.' Joan Parnell made an angry gesture. 'People have got to work out their own destinies. She wouldn't listen to me. Well, now she's dead.'
'Will you tell me about her?' Terrell asked.
'You've guessed, haven't you? She was a harlot. That's all there is to it.'
'We found an address book among her possessions,' Terrell said. 'It contains some two hundred names. I take it, these men were her clients?'
Joan Parnell shrugged.
'How do I know? All I do know is she made a lot of money and spent a lot of money. We didn't meet very often.'
'It's just possible,' Terrell said, 'that the dead woman might not be your sister. I'd be glad if you'd come with us and identify her.'
Joan Parnell grimaced.
'I hate the sight of death. Oh, well, I'll come.'
It was while they were driving to the City morgue that Terrell asked, 'Did your sister have any particular boyfriend?' He was watching Joan and saw her hesitate.
'If you mean did she have a pimp, then she didn't,' she said finally. 'There was a man she lived with for a couple of years. She was crazy about him until he walked out on her. I had warned her about him, she wouldn't listen, she never listened to me. I knew he would drop her in time.'
'Who is he?'
'Lee Hardy; he's some kind of bookmaker.'
Terrell and Beigler exchanged glances.
Terrell asked, 'How long ago was it since he dropped her?'
'About three months. He got himself another woman. Sue went on a bender when he threw her out. She didn't sober up for three weeks.'
'Would he have any reason to murder her?'
'Not unless she made a nuisance of herself. He is a man who could do anything... anything rotten.'
Terrell absorbed this. He was still thinking about it when the car arrived at the morgue. Minutes later, they were standing behind the sheet-covered body. Beigler hovered in the background.
Carefully, Terrell turned down the sheet to reveal Sue Parnell's dead face. He looked questioningly at Joan who had lost colour.
'That's my sister,' she said, her voice suddenly harsh. Before Terrell could prevent her, she caught hold of the sheet and flicked it off the naked and mutilated body. She stood as if turned to stone as Beigler hurried forward to help Terrell recover the body.
'So that's it!' she exclaimed. 'I had an idea you were keeping something from me!' She turned to Terrell, her eyes blazing with fury that startled him. 'You listen to me! You find this killer! If you don't, then I will! No man is going to get away with doing that to my sister! All right, she wasn't much, but you don't do that to any woman and get away with it no matter how low she is!' She turned and ran with unsteady steps out of the morgue.
'Go after her and take her home,' Terrell said. 'We'll talk to her again later.'
Beigler hurried after Joan. He was
in time to see her get into a passing taxi. As the cab moved away, he caught a glimpse of her white gaunt face and her glittering eyes.
He went thankfully back to Terrell who was locking the door of the morgue.
'She's gone ... took a taxi,' Beigler said.
'Let's see if Hess has anything to report, then we'll talk to Hardy.'
The two men walked over to where the police car was parked.
***
Val and her father drove back to the Spanish Bay hotel. She was tense and unhappy. She felt her father's sympathy had switched away from her while she had been with Chris and she braced herself, knowing what was coming.
It wasn't until they were back in the hotel suite that Travers said in a quietly modulated voice, 'Val ... I think you should pack right away and come back with me. I have to catch the five o'clock plane. Will you hurry? We can talk on the plane.'
'I'm staying here, Daddy. What should I do in New York with Chris out here?'
Her father restrained an impatient gesture.
'I've talked to Gustave,' he said. 'He says there is a chance of Chris eventually recovering, and I want you to grasp this as it is very important—in the meantime this odd blackout Chris has had makes it necessary for him to be under restraint. As he is willing to be a voluntary patient, he need not be certified, but if he shows signs of wanting to leave the sanatorium, he would have to be.'
'That's all the more reason why I should stay here and see him every day,' Val said steadily.
'I don't think Gustave wants you to see him every day, Val.'
'He can't stop me.'
Travers stared down at his well-shaped hands, frowning.
'Well, Vat, I suppose I'll have to tell you. Chris could become violent.'
Val got to her feet and walked to the window. She stood with her back to her father. There was a long painful silence, then Travers said, 'Come on, darling, get packed. Time's running out.'
She turned. The determination in her eyes dismayed him.
'Did Dr. Gustave tell you that?'
'About him becoming violent? Oh, yes. If you insist on seeing Chris, you won't be able to see him alone.'
'I don't understand. I've always seen him alone. Is this something new then?'
'I'm afraid so. This blackout is a warning signal. With the kind of brain injuries he has, it seems that if he has another blackout he could easily turn on anyone who is intimate with him. It's one of these odd quirks that I don't actually understand. Gustave said there would just possibly be homicidal tendencies. You couldn't stay with him or visit him without a nurse in attendance. You don't want to visit him under those conditions, do you?'
'I am going to visit him under any circumstances,' Val said. 'I am staying here.'
'Poor Val. You do love him, don't you?'
'Yes, I love him. If I were in his place, I'd hope so much that he wouldn't desert me. Let's not talk about it. I am staying, Daddy.'
Travers got to his feet.
'Then I'll get off. I can catch an earlier plane. Keep in touch with me. I don't know what you'll do down here on your own. I don't know if you'd like one of your friends to come down and join you, but I suppose you'll manage as you always seem to manage.'
'I'll be all right. I'd much sooner be on my own.'
'You are never alone, Val. You have me.' He looked hopefully at her. 'You have, haven't you?'
'Yes, I have you,' she said.
From the expression on her face, and from the tone of her voice, he realised bitterly that the hope he had had of replacing Chris, of getting her to return to his big, lonely house, of taking up their lives together once more was just bitter dust.
Lee Hardy was no stranger to the police. They knew him to be an unscrupulous gambler who ran a minor Wire Service, who managed to make a deal of money and who was shrewd enough to operate just within the Law.
Terrell and Beigler called at his two-room office on N.W. 17th Avenue. The pert blonde who handled the battery of telephones and ran the office when Hardy was on the race track told them that Hardy had just that moment left for home.
The two police officers went out into the hot street, climbed into the police car and drove fast to Bay Shore Drive where Hardy had a four-room penthouse overlooking the Biscayne Bay.
Hardy came to the door himself. He was a tall, powerfully built hunk of beef, dark, tanned, with staring blue eyes, a dimple in his chin and would obviously be devastating to most women.
He met the hard, cold stare of the policemen with an expansive, flashing smile. He had on a red and gold patterned dressing gown over his tanned, hairy nakedness. His feet were thrust into heelless slippers of soft red leather.
'Chief! Well, what a surprise! Come on in. You've never visited my humble sty before, have you? Come on in ... and you too, Sergeant.'
The two men walked into a vast lounge, expensively furnished with a terrace overlooking the bay. Down one side of the room, protected by a glass screen, orchids of every colour and description grew in long, colourful ropes. The decor of the room was of white and lemon yellow.
Reclining on a vast settee of yellow and white stripes was a beautifully built girl whose jet-black hair reached to her golden tanned shoulders. She had on a white wrap, pulled off her shoulders and that fell away from her legs, revealing naked, tanned thighs.
Staring at her, Beigler guessed she would be around twenty-three or four. She had one of those faces that made you think of a Pekinese dog ... attractive, but very complex.
'This is Gina Lang.' Hardy said. 'She takes care of my blood pressure.' He gave his flashing smile. To the girl, he said, 'Stay right where you are, Pekie. These gentlemen are from police headquarters. Chief Terrell and Sergeant Beigler.'
The girl eyed the two police officers, and then squirmed a little further down on the settee. She reached out a small, well-shaped hand for a glass full of lime juice and gin. She then looked pointedly away.
'Well, gentlemen,' Hardy said. 'What will you drink?'
'You know a woman named Sue Parnell?' Terrell asked in his cop voice.
For a brief second, Hardy's smile slipped, but it was back immediately although both Terrell and Beigler had seen the question had come as a shock.
'Sue Parnell? Well, now ... should I know her?' Gina turned her head to stare at Hardy. Her black eyes were uncomfortably searching.
'Don't stall,' Terrell snapped. 'Do you know her?'
'Why, yes ... an old, old flame that flickered out,' Hardy said. 'You didn't say what you would drink.'
'She was murdered last night,' Terrell said.
Hardy's smile slid off his face the way water leaves a sink.
'Murdered? Sue? For God's sake! Who did it?'
Neither Terrell nor Beigler were impressed with this act. They knew Hardy to be one of the trickiest punters on the Coast.
'Where were you last night?' Terrell asked as Beigler sat down and took out his notebook.
'You don't think I killed her, do you?' Hardy exclaimed, staring at Terrell.
'I'll ask the questions. Come on, Hardy, you're wasting time.'
'Where was I last night?' Hardy said and moved to the settee. He sat down, close to Gina's naked feet. 'Why ... I was right here ... wasn't I, Pekie?'
Gina sipped her drink. She looked at Hardy thoughtfully while Hardy stared back at her, the muscles of his neck tense.
'Were you?' She spoke with an exaggerated drawl. 'Last night? How should I remember what you did last night?'
'Just think a moment,' Hardy said, and Terrell saw he was controlling his temper with difficulty.
'Let me remind you: we ran off that movie I made when we were down at Key West. That was around eight o'clock. I then spent an hour editing it while you listened to that new L.P. I bought you. Then we ran the movie through again. That was a little after ten o'clock. Then we played five hands of Gin and you beat me ... remember? Then we went to bed.'
Gina looked at Terrell, then at Beigler, then back at Hardy.
'The only thing I remember is that we went to bed,' she said. 'Going to bed with you is always an experience.'
Hardy drew in a long, deep breath. He made a helpless gesture towards Terrell.
'Pekie, this is important.' There was a rasp in his voice. 'Don't go vague on me. These gentlemen want to know where I was last night. I haven't any other witnesses but you. I was with you from half-past seven until this morning that's right, isn't it?'
Again the long, uncomfortable pause, then Gina said, 'Yes, that's right, you were. I remember now distinctly.'
Hardy turned to Terrell.
'So I was here. What happened to Sue for God's sake?'
Terrell stared at Hardy. This was an alibi he disliked most...one he couldn't check.
'Did you have any telephone calls last night?'
'No.'
'Did you go out to eat?'
'No ... Gina fixed the meal here.'
'Did anyone call on you?'
'No.'
'So I have only this woman's word and yours?'
'I hope it's enough.'
Terrell turned to Gina.
'If this man has had anything to do with the murder and you have lied about him being here last night, you can be charged as an accessory after the fact... carries quite a rap. Want to change your mind?'
Gina sipped her drink before saying, 'I'm not in the habit of lying.'
'Well, you have been warned,' Terrell said. He nodded to Beigler and the two men walked out of the apartment.
When the front door closed behind them, Hardy said, 'Thank you, Pekie, that was damn well done.'
'Wasn't it?' she said and reached for a cigarette. While she lit it, he went over to the cocktail cabinet and made himself a stiff whisky. As he came back and sank into a lounging chair near her, she went on, 'Just who is Sue Parnell?'
'Nobody,' Hardy said and switched on his flashing smile. 'A tart if you're all that interested. Just nobody.'
She stared at him.
'I see. Where actually were you last night, Lee?'
He made an uneasy movement.
'Pekie ... I told you. I was out with the boys.'
'Then why didn't you tell that cop?'
'He would have checked. A couple of the boys are in trouble. They wouldn't want to talk to Terrell.'
1964 - The Soft Centre Page 4
