1964 - The Soft Centre

by James Hadley Chase

  While the girl was stammering this out, Val scarcely listened. Her sharp mind was busy.

  She suddenly saw how it could be possible for her to begin to find out the mystery behind Sue Parnell's death. The idea that had flashed into her mind sent her blood racing excitedly through her body.

  'Let's go over there and have a coffee,' she said. She led the way across the street and into a cafeteria that was almost empty. She ordered two coffees while Mary Sherrek sat clutching her shabby bag, staring at Val with wide, expectant eyes.

  'You really mean you will give me an interview, Mrs. Burnett?' she said. 'It would save my life. Honest. They are ready to throw me out. If I ...'

  'How long have you been working for this newspaper?' Val asked.

  Mary Sherrek looked startled.

  'About six months. I got a diploma through a Correspondence College. But I don't think I'm really much good. I just haven't ...'

  'But have you a press card?'

  'Oh yes. I couldn't go around without a press card, but it doesn't mean much. It just gets you into places.'

  'Could I see it, please?'

  'Of course.'

  The girl took the Press card from her bag and offered it to Val who studied it for a brief moment. It merely stated that Mary Sherrek represented the Miami Sun, and she should be granted facilities to assist her in her work. There was a depressing photograph of the girl stuck on the card which was signed by Chief of Police Terrell.

  Val put the card on the table.

  'Do you want to go home, Mary?'

  The girl's eyes opened wide.

  'I can't go home. My folk live in New York. I just haven't the money to get there. No, I can't go home,'

  'If you had the money, would you go?'

  'Oh yes. I hate it here. Yes, I'd go, but Mrs. Burnett, I should be asking you the questions. You don't want to be bothered with my troubles.'

  'I want your press card,' Val said quietly. 'I will give you two hundred dollars for it. With that money, you can get home. Will you sell me your press card?'

  The girl stared at her as if she thought she had gone out of her mind.

  'You can't want my press card! But why? I don't understand.'

  Val opened her bag and took from it two one hundred dollar bills.

  'Never mind why I want it ... I want it. Here's the money. Can I take the card?'

  Mary Sherrek stared at the two bills. She drew in a deep breath.

  'You really mean it?'

  'Here is the money,' Val said, trying to control her impatience. She pushed the money across the table and picked up the card. This she put in her bag. 'Now go home. I get these odd whims. I like to help people. Good luck ...'

  She got to her feet as the girl continued to stare at the two bills on the table. Then she walked quickly from the cafeteria.

  A passing taxi stopped at her signal. As she got into the cab, she looked back. The girl was coming out of the cafeteria, looking bewildered, but happy.

  Val gave the driver the address of her hotel. As the cab moved off, she took the Press card from her bag and studied it. Back at the hotel, she had a spare passport photograph of herself.

  This she could easily stick on the card. Armed with this authority, she now had a remote chance of finding out more about Sue Parnell's murder.

  ***

  Homer Hare strode into Terrell's office like a fat Avenging Angel. He met Terrell and Beigler's bleak stares with a stare even more bleak.

  'Where's my son-in-law?' he demanded, coming to rest before Terrell's desk. 'If you've so much as laid a finger on him, I'm going to my attorney. Where is he?'

  Terrell slapped the briefcase lying on his desk.

  'Who gave you this money?' he demanded in his cop voice.

  'I'll answer questions when you answer mine!' Hare rumbled. 'Don't you think you can scare me! I know my rights! Where's Karsh?'

  'He'll be along,' Terrell said. 'Where did you get this money from?'

  'That's my business.' Hare lowered his bulk into a chair. 'I want him right here and now! Unless you produce him, I'm not talking.'

  Terrell nodded to Beigler who left the office. Terrell and Hare regarded each other.

  'I didn't think you were this much of a fool,' Terrell said. 'You've been in your racket now for over thirty years. You've done pretty well. You haven't been entirely honest, but you've kept within the line. Blackmail isn't a pretty thing, Hare. I'd have thought you'd have been smart enough to resist that temptation.'

  Hare glared at him.

  'I haven't an idea what you're talking about.' he said. 'You be careful! Blackmail! You're lucky there are no witnesses!'

  The door opened and Beigler came in, shoving Karsh before him. Karsh had a black eye and was sweating and shaking.

  Terrell stared at him in apparent astonishment. 'What happened to him then? How did he get that shiner?'

  Beigler shook his head sadly.

  'I guess he's born clumsy. He fell over his feet and took a toss down the stairs. But he's all right now, aren't you, Shamus?'

  Karsh shied away from him. He held his hand to his eye and groaned.

  'Sit him down,' Terrell said. ‘He looks in need of a rest.'

  Beigler slammed a chair behind Karsh's knees and he sat down violently.

  'Are you all right, Sammy?' Hare asked, staring at him.

  'Do I look all right?' Karsh snarled, mopping his eye with his handkerchief.

  'Hare!' Terrell barked, 'Where did you get this money from?'

  Hare leaned against the chair back making it creak. 'It's a retainer. An important client. No business of yours.'

  'I happen to know who your client is,' Terrell said. 'This a retainer? Twenty thousand dollars? Come on, spill it, what's it all about?'

  Hare smiled calmly.

  'You must ask my client,' he said. 'I was paid this amount for services to be rendered. It's not police business strictly private business. If you do know who my client is, then ask my client.'

  He got to his feet and picked up the briefcase.

  'One little thing, Chief, if you know who my client is, you'll also know you'll have to watch your step very carefully. My client draws lots of water in this town. You could be on the retired list if you play the wrong card. Come on, Sammy. They can't hold us. Let's go.'

  'Just a moment,' Terrell said, his hands in fists on the desk. 'You're having a run, Hare, but it won't last. From now on, I'm out to get you.'

  Hare winked.

  'You try. You won't get me. I'm strictly honest.'

  'And another thing,' Terrell said. 'I have the numbers of those bills. You spend one of them and you'll be in trouble.'

  'Think so? You talk to my client,' Hare said and stumped out of the office, followed by Karsh.

  Terrell and Beigler exchanged glances.

  'Well, I didn't play that one too smart,' Terrell said, frowning. 'I thought he just might crack.'

  'Hare? Crack?' Beigler snorted. 'So what do we do now?'

  Terrell reached for the telephone.

  'Get me the Spanish Bay hotel. I want to talk to Mrs. Val Burnett,' he said to the police operator.

  A few minutes later, the operator told him Mrs. Burnett was out.

  Replacing the receiver, Terrell shrugged.

  'I'll leave this to you, Joe.' he said. 'I want to talk to her as soon as she gets back to the hotel, but let's handle it carefully. Don't let's make a thing of it.'

  'What can Hare have on her ... a woman like that?' Beigler said, scowling. 'Twenty thousand! What's she been up to that he's managed to throw that size hook into her?'

  'That's what I want to find out,' Terrell said.

  He looked at the papers on his desk.

  'We seem to be getting nowhere fast with the Parnell killing. What are you doing about it. Joe?'

  Exasperated, Beigler began to explain when the telephone bell rang.

  Terrell listened to the excited voice coming over the line and Beigler saw his face harden.
/>
  'We'll be right over,' he said. 'Don't touch anything,' and he hung up. He stared at Beigler.

  'Spike Calder's been found in a cellar room in his Club. Been dead some time.'

  Beigler groaned.

  'What's the matter with this town? Okay, I'm on my way.'

  'Could be Lincoln again,' Terrell said. 'He and Calder knew each other. Calder was stabbed. Could be where Jacko and Lincoln have been hiding out.'

  Beigler nodded and ran from the office.

  ***

  Joan Parnell sprawled in the big shabby armchair, a black cat on her lap, a glass of gin and water in her hand. She stared glassily at Val who sat on the edge of her chair, a newly bought notebook in her lap, a fountain pen in her hand.

  She had been careful to put on a simple grey dress. She wore no stockings and she had removed the varnish from her nails. As an afterthought she had slightly disarranged her usually immaculate hair, but even with these touches, she felt she didn't really look much like a reporter from the Miami Sun.

  She realised with relief that Joan Parnell was so drunk, she need not have taken any care.

  The sight of this handsome woman, her face white, her eyes peering as if to focus her properly, her hand unsteady as she held her glass upset Val.

  'The Miami Sun?' Joan said thickly. 'That's just a rag. What do you want?'

  'It's about your sister,' Val said, speaking slowly and quietly. 'My Editor thinks you aren't getting much help from the police. He has taken an interest in the case. The police don't seem to be getting anywhere and he thought if you could give me some information, we might spotlight the case and get the police to take more interest.'

  'Do you imagine I need the help of a rag like the Miami Sun?' Joan said. 'I'll tell you something: I knew the police wouldn't do a thing. I'll tell you why: my sister was a whore. The police couldn't care less about whores. I'll tell you what I've done. I've gone to the best detective agency in this rotten town and I have paid them good money to find out who killed my sister. Tell that to your Editor!'

  'Would that be Hare's Investigating Agency?'

  'Who else? I said the best, didn't I? And when they find the man who killed my sister, that fool Terrell is going to look damned small!'

  Val's mind moved swiftly. It became obvious to her that Hare was now double-crossing this woman so he could blackmail Val herself. He had found out something that the police knew nothing about and instead of telling this woman, he had come to her with this blackmail proposition.

  'Have you heard from the Agency yet?' Val asked.

  'Not yet. I'm giving them a little time. I'll hear ... they're smart.'

  'I see.' Vat pretended to write something in her notebook. 'But perhaps you have your own idea who killed your sister, Miss Parnell? This, of course, would be off the record.'

  'There is one bastard who could have done it,' Joan said, brushing the cat off her lap and sitting upright. 'That's Lee Hardy. He threw her out and is shacked up with a pug faced bitch who calls herself Gina Lang. I'll tell you something: Sue wouldn't stand for any man throwing her out. It's my bet she made trouble for that heel and he's fixed her. I told that fool Terrell, but he wouldn't listen. You go and talk to Hardy. You can tell him from me, I think he did it! Now get out of here!'

  'Where do I find him?' Val asked, writing the name in her book.

  'Oh, in the phone book,' Joan said impatiently and got unsteadily to her feet. 'You tell your Editor I'm going to find the man who killed my sister! I can do without the help of his rotten rag!'

  As Val got into the waking taxi and told the driver to take her to the nearest drug store, Lee Hardy sat in his office counting the money he had finally raised for Jacko and Moe's get away stake. He had had considerable difficulty in raising five thousand dollars. His bank account was overdrawn and the manager had flatly refused him further credit. He had had to go around to several of his bookmaker pals and talk them into advancing sums until the sums totalled five thousand dollars.

  ***

  He put the money in a briefcase and telling his girl he wouldn't be back until the following morning, he left the office. It was a few minutes after midday when he reached his apartment.

  He had been worrying about leaving Gina alone with these two thugs. He didn't trust them even after the payoff. He had borrowed an automatic from one of his friends and this he now carried in his hip pocket. He felt a lot more sure of himself now he had the gun.

  If Jacko and Moe managed to leave town, they all might escape this rap, he was thinking as he paid off the taxi driver, but the chances of them getting clear wasn't so good. The police were now alerted. Jacko was as easy to recognise as an elephant.

  Hardy knew he was in serious trouble. If the police caught these two, they would sing.

  They would implicate him the moment the cuffs were on their wrists. If he was to get out of this jam, he would have to silence them both. As the elevator took him up to his penthouse, he decided he would have to alert the police the moment Jacko and Moe left. He would get Gina to do this. He would kill them both before they reached the Street. He would then fire Jacko's gun two or three times into his front door to prove to the police these two turned on him and had tried to kill him. Terrell wouldn't be able to prove otherwise. The fact Gina had called the police should get him out of this jam.

  The elevator came to a sighing stop on the top floor of the apartment block. The doors swung open. As Hardy stepped out into the wide corridor, he saw a tall, slimly built girl move through the open doorway of his penthouse: the door opened by Gina.

  Hardy walked quickly across the corridor, catching Gina's eye. He was in time to hear the slim girl say, 'I am Mary Sherrek. I am from the Miami Sun. Could I see Mr. Hardy?'

  Gina, her face tense, said, 'He's right behind you. I'm sure he'd love to talk to you.'

  The girl turned. Hardy was struck by her beauty, but immediately became uneasy by the expression in her eyes. The steady, searching look threw him off balance.

  He switched on his charm as he entered the penthouse and closed the door. Gina moved into the lounge.

  'The Miami Sun?' Hardy said, his voice a shade too hearty. 'Why, sure. I read it every day. What do you want? But come on in.'

  He entered the lounge and looked questioningly at Gina. She gave a slight nod, indicating that Jacko and Moe were in Hardy's bedroom, He was quick to see the door was ajar.

  Val looked around the lounge. There was a highly charged atmosphere that scared her. Both this girl, wearing lounging pyjamas, and this big man, seemed very much on edge.

  'Sit down, sit down, sit down,' Hardy said waving to a chair. 'Just what's on your mind, Miss.., what did you say your name is?'

  'Sherrek,' Val said, sitting down, clutching her notebook and trying to control the thumping of her heart.

  'Well, Miss Sherrek, I'm pretty busy. Just what is it?' Hardy said. He put the briefcase containing the five thousand dollars on the settee. 'How about a drink?'

  'No, thank you.'

  'Get me a drink, Pekie,' Hardy said. 'I have a thirst that would slay a camel. Now what is it?' he went on to Val as Gina moved to the cocktail cabinet.

  Val really wasn't sure how to handle this situation. She knew it could be dangerous. She knew there was something going on in the penthouse that these two didn't want her to know about. She had seen Gina's nod to a door leading from the lounge. She was sure it was some signal to Hardy.

  'I'm covering the Parnell murder,' she said. 'I understand you were a friend of Miss Parnell. I wonder if you could tell me about her ... give me something of her background and whether you have any ideas who could have murdered her.'

  Hardy sat down. His face became granite hard and his eyes vicious.

  'I'm not talking about her,' he said. 'She's dead now. I know nothing about who killed her or why she was killed.'

  Gina came across the room, swinging her neat hips carrying a large glass of whisky and ice. As she offered Hardy the glass, she said spitefully, 'S
he was just an old, old flame that flickered out ... a nobody ... a tart.'

  Val scarcely heard what she was saying. She was staring with rooted concentration, feeling a chill crawling up her spine, at the heavy gold bracelet around Gina's slim wrist. From the bracelet hung a cluster of five miniature gold elephants.

  chapter ten

  The police search for Jacko and Moe had been intensified. Every officer that Terrell could spare was now thrown into the hunt. Somewhat late in the day, road blocks were set up.

  Officers Tom Lepski and Bill Williams were told to go to Lee Hardy's penthouse.

  Beigler said, 'You won't find those two hoods there, but they might have been there. Get rough with that pug-faced girl. She might have seen something. Put pressure on Hardy. He could have staked them to get rid of them. Check his bank. See if he has made a big withdrawal yesterday or today.'

  'We'll go to the bank first,' Lepski said to Williams as they got into their car. 'I'd like to have a few facts to ram down Hardy's throat.'

  Williams, a tall, youngish man who spent most of his time in the fingerprint department was resentful that he should have been taken from his safe desk and teamed with a crazy man like Lepski. He was sure Lepski could lead him into trouble. The thought of suddenly being confronted by two such vicious thugs as Jacko and Moe scared him. It was all very well for Lepski who had had years of experience handling thugs. He was unmarried and as reckless as a madman. Williams up to now had managed to keep clear of violence. Besides, his wife was expecting their third baby. What would happen to her if he got killed?

  Lepski, wiry, tough, his sun-tanned face lined and his clear blue eyes alert, drove the police car swiftly to the Commercial and South Banking Corporation where he knew Hardy banked.

  'What's the matter with you?' he demanded, as he weaved the car expertly through the heavy traffic. 'You look like you swallowed a bee.'