“Depends really, this case may have spread her wings and flew away already. So who knows the case goes when she, wishes.”
“Okay, Ben’ tomorrow meet Jack at his precinct. As of tomorrow you will be detached to the Homicide and be Jacks driver if needed. Morgan ditch the uniform understand.” Costner ordered.
“Yes Cap’” replied the Patrol-man.
“Oh and Ben if you have any problems putting an arm on this crut’, do me a favour.” Morgan nodded “Just plug the bastard.” Costner added as a parting comment “Shoot him a bunch of times, empty your clip if you follow. Make it really hurt, after all he’ll feel nothing except a few seconds of pain if he got the chair anyway. Way I see it he gets the chair, he’ll have got off easy...”
At the back of the precinct Jack leant against his Plymouth, and while smoking his pipe filled Morgan in, on everything him and Peggy knew up to that point. Taking a folded newspaper from his satchel Morgan, unfolded it. “That kid who found your thigh, it say this morning got hit in a drive-by killing by the Sands Fun Fair, the reporter says the kid’s body was found draped over a carousel horse. But I guess that was before his folks sold his tale, to all the papers. Poor kid being killed for nothing like that, but we did warn him and his folks to keep quiet, but some people are just hard of hearing.”
“They can’t print much.” Jack Malone added “especially if we don’t know much more ourselves, Morgan. Anyway got a question for you. What you got on a house in your old beat, number 971, I’m thinking tomorrow we go take a look, out that way.”
Patrol-man Morgan craned his neck “nine seven one? Yeah I know the place it’s an old red brick house. Back onto a small Industrial Estate, if I remember rightly there’s an Import business of some sort there. Anyway nine seven one, isn’t that special to be honest. Just a four or five buck a week furnished rooming house. But it’s not apartments you just pay and stay.”
“So, Ben you got a bead on who runs it?”
Benjamin thought it over for a moment “Let’s see—oh yeah’ an old blind dodo named Henderson as yo know. Him and his wife. They got one in the nine sixties too— you know operate them as a pair. He’s a total pushover really, and stewed more than half the time, its his ball and chain you have to look out for she’s a pit-bull without the looks.”
“Really— interesting so Morgan you hear of a shmuck named Bell, Ashford Bell in that part of town?”
“What he look like the Bell character?”
“Dark, about thirty-five years old. That all we got to work on, may have facial hair of sorts. My guess is he fancies himself as a Dapper-Dan or Casanova type. I imagine or plays the snappy dresser to the skirts,” Jack replied as Morgan laughed at the brief description.
“For some reason lieutenant I can’t finger him. Maybe he just moved here. They keep coming and going in a joint like this.”
“Isn’t that the truth, anyway see you tomorrow Benny-boy.”
“Night, sir” Morgan said wavering his superior off for the night.
Jack got in his tired Plymouth, putting the key in the ignition bringing his old four-wheeled workhorse to life. Its fatigued splutter as it idled was a perfect fit for his own mood. It had been one hell of a day, especially after speaking to that creeper Johnson. He’d made Jack feel dirty. That had phased him more than Costner's little gift. I’d rather deal with ten dead bodies, than go near that tub of lard again, he thought slightly repulsed. The drive through the Liberty was a tough slog, tensions were taut, to breaking. This sea of home time traffic was vile. Jack’s mood not helped by the fact that a Model A clipped his little car’s back end, with a crunch.
Before it pulled ahead of him turning left, without stopping into another stream of traffic. Finally an hour later he made it to the quiet streets of Ocean View. By way of his favourite liquor store for a fresh bottle of Seagram’s his favourite tipple, after a long day. Ocean View was an odd sort of area , especially when it didn’t allow any of the residence to actually see the ocean, it was proud to boast about. Being that it was too far inland to even get a whiff of a sea breeze on a hot day. Instead to be greeted by the foul whiff of a landfill on the edge of the city. But like his apartment it was all he could afford on a Lieutenant’s salary, and there were always worse places he could be living he often told himself.
It took him a while to find a place to park with it being a Friday, and everyone wanted to be home with the families. He drove past a sea of vehicles that had pitched up along the roadside, a rather garish pink Grumman Delivery Van, held together by rust and peeling paint, had broken down outside his usual parking spot, much to Jacks annoyance. His neighbour had promised to shift that heap weeks ago. Maybe I should run him up for it, that would show him? with a cruel chuckle. It had forced Jack to drive ten minutes out of his way to find a free space to park up. Finally settling on one under a wilting palm tree, turning the key and pulling it out, his little car purred a pained relief as it finally came to a rest. It was a short walk to his small apartment, as he rounded the street corner he could see his old front gate and heard his slippers, pipe and two strong fingers with ice and a dash of Vermouth calling him home. Passing the pink rust heap he kicked it as a mischievous smile crept onto his face, knocking off a piece the vans body work leaving a nice hole, Oh well he thought serves him right. Hopping his front gate was when he saw ‘it’ on his front door, stuck fast in the doors peep hole. A bowie knife, with a photograph and an envelope both stabbed by the blade through the middle. Carefully teasing out the knife he pocketed it. He took the envelope opening it, taking out it’s contents It was a threat plain and simple, which read;
LEAVE CONTENTMENT ALONE.
FORGET DANVER’S AND THE OTHERS.
DROP THE CASE.
WE ARE THE HOUSE OF GAME YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
The envelope and paper, felt heavy and expensive. The threat was typed not handwritten the ink seemed new as if it was a new ribbon. All this meant one thing—money! This House of Games had been on every precincts watch list for as long as he’d been on the force. But nothing ever stuck. Every case no matter how harsh the crime, seemed to just disappear in the system. That alone added fuel to the rumour mill, and this criminal organization soon became an urban legend an infamous spectre laying in wait, among the cities shadows. But maybe now he, Lieutenant Jack Malone could squash this undeserved legend and bring them down. Looking at the threat again all Malone could think of was NO he wasn’t going to drop anything.
Then he looked at the photo, it was of him leaving Peggy’s. It it had been taken recently, going by the dress she wore. It was one he’d surprised her with last Wednesday, when he took her to the Cotton Club. Jack’s heart sank when he saw the big red ‘X’ drawn over his girl. They’d crossed a line now. He couldn’t rest he had to act!
Letting himself in felt slightly uneasy, drawing his service revolver Jack swept the house room by room. After he’d searched the small apartment, only then did he breathe easy. It was clear, he was safe now. He sighed in relief. Sitting on the couch, he lit his pipe choosing not to have a drink, he needed a clear head, needed to think. Why was that organization after him? Did that creep Johnson have something to do with the threat? He hated having more questions than answers. Jack hated not knowing. But then again he didn’t know a single detective in the force that did, it must be an eternal cop thing he pondered taking another long draw of smoke. More importantly how did they know where he and Peggy lived? Did they know more? Peggy. He had to get to her. Running to his bedroom he packed a single change of clothes. Then a spare piece and a box of ammo from his lock bock in his closet, then as quickly as he could ran back to his car. He had to see Peggy now more than ever. He couldn’t bring himself to think what the House of Games would and probably could do to his lover. Time was of the essence, putting the police light on his little car’s roof. He hit the light and switched on the siren. He would get there as quick as he could.
The quickest way to Peggy’s home in the foothills was
the Highway. At this time of day with the siren blaring Jack could really gun the little engine. Open her up and be there, he hoped in twenty minutes, fifteen if he had luck on his side. Hitting the Highway was as Jack had hoped, empty! Pressing down on the accelerator the little car pulled forward, glancing at the speedometer, he watched the little red needle push past sixty, seventy all the way to the little car’s max at fifty-miles an hour. Slowing only a little when he saw the silhouette of the foothills breaking out the over the horizon. Cutting the lights and siren Jack drove another mile and a half, into Sunset View, the one part of this city, Jack wasn’t overly fond of. Mainly because it was money that spoke and ran things in this high rollers district, full of tycoons and the like. But he put up with looks he got and the snobs that lived here, for Peggy. A dame who loved him, for well him. He would never let anything happen to her, he’d rather die first.
Twenty minutes later he was pulling into the drive, of Peggy’s up-scale apartment complex in this hills. As he waited for the apartments gate man to pass him through. He wondered, Could I really see myself living here? He rubbed his hand over his unshaven face, maybe he thought. Maybe I could. As the elaborate iron gates swung open Jack drove into this wealthy snapshot of sound living. Parking up against, he got out and spotted it he’d missed the curb and parked his front wheel, in a pristine Rhododendron patch Nuts he smirked Oh well they could afford it, these folks could afford anything. Jack thought finally with a dark humours touch. Grabbing his overcoat from the back seat, he locked the little Plymouth and walked to the perfect primrose pink front door, of the Venus that was his woman. Ringing the doorbell a minute later Jack saw her kimono wearing angel, opening the door. “What took you honey?” she asked her man taking his coat and ushering him in.
“Pour me a drink, I’ll sing you chapter and verse.” Jack said as he pecked her on the lips.
Chapter Five
“So what’s the play Costner?” Commissioner Jordan asked sharply. Captain Costner, shrugged in the muster room in the Twenty Fourth precinct. In Jordan’s hand was the M.E.’s report on the Ross Kirby killing, the night before.
“Nothing at all” Costner replied, with a flip of his dirty hand. “Homicide have wanted to haul Kirby in for years. He was a killer, one of the few killers who choose to use neither a gun or knife. No this nut used a drill or well anything from out of his toolbox, you know hammers, screwdrivers… well the imagination boggles. From what we know he’s been, or well was working at Monroe and Locke, a reptile importer from what we know. Over on and around Portland Street. But I have to say sir, there’s something queer going on there. As far as I’m concerned sir, just let it go!”
“You mean – drop the case entirely?”
“Yes sir” Costner leaned forward “This Viper’s really doing our job for us even if were not really allowed to officially like him for it. He’s been cleaning up Bombay too. We’ve had excellent reports of this guy from the U.K.’s Scotland Yard. From what we know of his activities, he and another one of his type were the ones who foiled the German renegades.”
“I remember that” Jordan added, Costner grimaced “We owe him a good turn don’t we. Commissioner—. But I haven’t a clue who or what this Viper character is. But I do know that he always gets the job done, does what we can’t. Because he goes outside the law. He saved me a lot of hassle dealing with Kirby. Also sir, I have a hunch that the important business was what brought him to Liberty after all Kirby did work there. So why not let him have this one, just leave it be.”
“Okay I’m sold” said the Commissioner “Drop it, make the report say death by natural causes. I don’t know, have fun with it I’m sure you can think of something.”
“yes, sir” replied the Captain, with a satisfied grin. At that moment there was a knock at the door. A police clerk looked in. “Mr Rogers to see you, sir.”
“send him in.”
The door opened and a pale-burned man entered “Happy to have you Rogers, what can I do for someone of the B.J.D.” Jordan exclaimed rising and shaking hands with a genuine admiration for the man in front of him. “Meet Captain Costner, Rogers here is one of the best detectives the Brits every attached to the Bombay Justice Department. He’s a real gem over there from what I hear.”
“I know commissioner” Costner said “Bleated thanks by the way for helping out the Rena case a few months back to, especially when our scumbag ended up near your back garden.”
“To be honest Captain Costner I didn’t do much” he replied “frankly you should be thanking the Viper, fellow. Whoever he is?” Rogers said with a sly smile that he hid under a yawn. “Sorry” he said “the jet lag” he laughed, the other men sharing a chuckle with him.
“It’s a coincidence that” Jordan chuckled “we were just talking about him, your Bombay-an Avenger seems to have slithered to Liberty. I assume you read the Kirby mess. The Commissioners called off the investigation our end to” Costner remarked, eyeing the pale- brown man keenly. Rogers nodded emotionless “good call I think.”
“So what brings you here anyway? Costner queried. “Bombay wired me, saying that now my case had finished, I was to hang back and assist if needed on any other cases I maybe able to help on, especially seeing as our last case overlapped, plus I'm on a bit of a personal fact finding mission on another case that you maybe able to help on.”
Roger’s sat down and pulled an odd looking greenish cigarette holder from his shirt pocket, along with a packet of Gold flake cigarette’s a popular brand in Bombay. Slowly he drew out a cigarette and inserted it into the holder, lighting it.
“This case you maybe able to help a fellow on” he began “for the last month there have been odd robberies popping up all over India’s East Coast. Emeralds and the like, that are beyond a rational amount to price up or value. They seem to be all stolen by hired dacoits, oh’ sorry I mean hired crooks. But the worst was a recent theft of something called the Dragon’s Eye owned by the Rajah Milki II.”
“I read about that.” put in the Commissioner.
“Anyway all these rare stones are being exported somehow from India” Roger continued “Somehow it’s being done under the wire, straight out under the wire— out past the customs official’s. More oddly there being smuggled right here to Liberty, past the scrutiny of your revenue people.”
“I picked up the case. It was no rookie job, I figured it had to be an international outfit of some sort. All carefully planned and pulled off. A jewel ring or at least an organization of some sort that I managed to infiltrate and later track to London. That put me onto Ross Kirby and then your glorious city. But last night Kirby was scratched—by two of his own men.”
“But, how do they get them here past customs?” The captain wondered “They are pro’s after all, those customs boys.” “That they are” Rogers mumbled “But do the custom’s boys cut open bellies of pythons to look for stolen jewels.” Both the captain and commissioner looked at Rogers dumbfounded.
“Good God!” Costner cried sharply. “Smuggling by snakes. You mean that Locke-Monroe reptile outfit is a player of some sort?”
“Got it in one, they import nothing but pythons. But for all they bring in, not a single one is sold. The snakes just disappear. That was the first thing I looked into when there names cropped up, that’s when my suspicious began to grow.”
“You see” Rogers explained “It’s simple when you look at it. They are stolen to order I assume in India. Then wrapped the stolen goods tight, and then the helpless pythons are made to swallow them with food. Just before they are boxed and shipped out. Since a big snake like that takes about a fortnight give or take a day, to digest the food before throwing off waste. Making the seven day trip to London then to here in time. When they get here they were killed by Kirby I assume and the packages retrieved.”
“Amazing!” breathed Jordan “We’ll arrest them at once!”
“No!” Rogers voice was clear and firm “you mustn't arrest those things. Instead help me get the evide
nce on the Dragon’s Eye— I have a simple plan.”
She rose elegantly from a plush chaise loungé, and let Liberties early morning sun bathe her in warmth through a small stained window. Perfectly manicured nails of luscious red patted her silken sun touched hair. Straightening the jade and gold stitched kimono that she wore. She laughed nervously, her perfectly shaped lips framed white teeth, like that of a silver screen heroine. Stepping closer to Jack’s side she began to feel slightly at ease. The grizzled detective could see an inferno of interest and curiosity burning brightly behind her enchanting brown eyes. He laid a rough hand, on her soft shoulder, Jack Malone the normally on his guard, always about the job, brooding police Lieutenant always let his guard down, let his vulnerabilities show show when he was around Peggy. He couldn’t help but grin when he was with her. He was medium build and height, slender and possessed more than his fare share of dry wit and magnetism, or so he was told anyway. Since leaving the army he had a solid reputation for being one of the best cops in all of Central City and in that lawless, dark and gritty city that was saying something. He’d made a name for himself there and gained a rank to, just like his farther before him. Hear though in Liberty Jack felt like dirt despite all he’d accomplished since moving up here, the dirt these rich types scraped from their boot. Even if he was still an officer of the law. It was another thing he hated about this city. The dogma. To them if you weren’t born here, nothing you did or what position you gained, would ever make them truly accept you. Thankfully Peggy was different, she seemed to see the world as it was, and she knew life was getting harder. She saw it on her beat with the P.W.B. She saw this city rip dreams down then break their spirits to just for kicks. All done behind this cities fake smile and glamour. But that was how the world was these days. As if the world somehow knew that this house of cards was going to come crashing down around everyone, and soon. It was hard and you had to find your place in it, before that happened. Unlike other Liberty socialites never judged or criticized Jacks place in it.
The Queen and The Viper Page 4
