Shake a Crooked Town

by Dan J. Marlowe

  “You won’t be gone long?” she queried with her first hint of timidity.

  “I’ll be right back,” he promised. “Scout’s honor.”

  Clear gray eyes looked up at him trustingly. “You should do something about your face. I have a hankie in my ‘jamas. Would you like to borrow it?”

  “I’ve got one, thanks,” Johnny said hastily, and groped for it. “Quiet like a mouse for you now—right?”

  “Comme la souris,” she echoed sturdily. Johnny grinned, patted the taffy-colored halo, dabbed at the deeper of his welling facial cuts with the handkerchief, and left the lobby for the corridor and the door of 2-A.

  “Who is it?” he heard in answer to his knock.

  “Killain.”

  The door opened three inches on a chain latch. Johnny looked in over it at Jessie Burger in a housecoat and dark glasses. “Dear God!” she exclaimed at the sight of him. The chain rattled loosely and the door opened wide. “Come in. Quickly.”

  “You afraid of snow blindness?” Johnny asked as he stepped inside and she closed the door behind him. The chain latch was immediately restored. On a hunch he turned her around and removed the dark glasses. She ducked her head but not before he saw two savage-looking black eyes. The left side of her face was swollen. “Kratz?” he asked her.

  “S-Savino.” Her face crumpled and she started to cry. “Everything you s-said about them is true. He t-talked his way in here last night and beat me up because I hadn’t s-stopped seeing you. They’re th-thugs, all of them. Jim, too. I h-hate them. Ask me anything. I’ll tell you the whole awful s-story.”

  “Micheline?” he asked quietly.

  “Jim has her little girl at his apartment so that he can control her. After the first telephone call from New York Jim knew he was in trouble. He forced the maid with whom Micheline had left the little girl to bring her to his place. He flew to New York and found Micheline at the Taft and made her call the maid and dismiss her. He threatened to keep her separated from her daughter if she didn’t do what he said. He was desperate. He’d built up—”

  Johnny held up a hand. “I get most of the picture, but where’s Micheline?”

  “I don’t know where she’s been staying. Jim wouldn’t let her stay at her own apartment. She comes to see her daughter every day.”

  “I’ve got the kid outside,” Johnny said casually, watching her face.

  It was seconds before she reacted. “The daughter? You have her with you? Outside where? Here?” The words tumbled out over each other. “Is that why you look like this? I thought they’d jumped you—for God’s sake, bring her in before Kratz or Savino happen along!” She flushed at his steady regard. “Listen, I may be no damn good, but on this you can trust me, I hope!”

  “Be right back,” he said, and let himself out the door. He approached the silent chair in the lobby and watched apprehensive gray eyes brighten as he bent down and picked her up in her blanket cocoon. “Everything’s copacetic, sugar-foot,” he told her, hoisting her aloft.

  “Is my mother here?” she asked eagerly.

  “I’m goin’ to get her just as soon as we get you tucked in the sack.” Johnny ducked so the girl wouldn’t bump her head as he carried her into the apartment. Jessamyn, her dark glasses restored, slapped the chain latch back on the door. “Genevieve, this is a friend of ours, Miss Jessie.” He handed the blanketed small figure to Jessamyn.

  “Let’s go in my room, dear,” the librarian said. Genevieve nodded shy acquiesence. On the way, Jessamyn looked over her shoulder at Johnny. “I’ve called a doctor in the next building about your face. He’ll be right over. You can let him in.”

  “First I got to—” Johnny began, and paused at a rap at the door.

  “There he is now.” Jessamyn disappeared into the bedroom. Johnny admitted the doctor and reluctantly submitted to his ministrations. He gave the accompanying questions short shrift. Jessamyn reappeared during the application of the last of five stitches distributed two, two, and one in three different locations. The doctor took his disapproving departure and Johnny sat up on the couch that had served as an operating table.

  “I’m goin’ back to Daddario’s,” he said, reaching for his undershirt. He worked it on gently over his head.

  “Your ear looks horrible,” Jessamyn said with a little shudder. The import of his words reached her. “Jim’s? You can’t go back there! Kratz—”

  “I saw Kratz. We split a hair or two. To make sure of gettin’ the kid out of there I had to leave without talkin’ to Daddario. He’s the only one can tell me where Micheline is.” Johnny stood up. His face felt as if it were on fire and his body ached. He looked at Jessamyn. “Tell me somethin’. Why would Riley offer me a thousand to find Micheline?”

  “Riley? Jack Riley offered you—” She shook her head when she saw that he was serious. “I just don’t know. I’m not surprised Jim didn’t let him know, but why would Jack want to know?”

  “He was in New York the day Thompson was killed,” Johnny suggested, watching her.

  “Riley hires his troublemakers. Or he always has.”

  Johnny grunted. “I don’t see how he could’ve knifed Thompson, anyway. None of those people should’ve been able to get within forty rods of Thompson, let alone close enough to shiv him.”

  “You sound so—casual about it,” she protested.

  He looked at his watch, paying her no attention. “Riley’s money should be up with Rudy by now if he was levelin’. What’s the name of that tavern that fronts for the gamblin’ joint?”

  “The Gamecock.”

  “I’ll look it up in the book. I’d like to know.”

  “The number is Edison 7-9490.”

  “Thanks.” He paused on his way to the phone. “How the hell would you know that off-hand?”

  She refused to look at him. “I keep the books for that place. Both operations. The license is in my mother’s name.” Her voice was low. “In the beginning it seemed all right because Jim and I were going to be married. Afterward—well, I just couldn’t say ‘no’ to the money.”

  “Not many can,” Johnny said. He went to the phone and dialed. “Rudy,” he said, and waited. “Rudy? Someone leave a thousand with you this mornin’ for—”

  “Got it right here,” the gambler’s bass interrupted. “An’ lissen, Killain. No names, but I just had a guy here broadcastin’ he’s goin’ to lay you out in lavender when he catches up to you. Slim, dark job.”

  Savino, Johnny thought. “It’d make my day complete to have him try it,” he said grimly. “Thanks, Rudy.” He replaced the phone and looked at Jessamyn. “When did this town go wrong?”

  “About four years ago.” She said it tiredly. “It started just in a small way with Dick Lowell and Jim Daddario milking the gamblers. Carl Thompson managed it for them. Gradually it got bigger. Dick had needed money because of Dorothy Trent. Then he needed a lot of money. They set out to organize everything and in the process Jim saw that with Dick in trouble he could take over the whole thing for himself—”

  “An’ because Thompson wouldn’t go along with the idea of derailin’ Lowell, Daddario had to get rid of him. Haven’t you asked yourself if he didn’t have to finish the job down in New York?”

  “I’ve been afraid to.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “I’d be an accessory, wouldn’t I?” He couldn’t see her eyes behind the dark glasses but he could hear the tears in her voice. “I never thought there c-could be anything like murder—”

  “We don’t know that he did it. Yet.” Johnny moved to the door. “Lock this thing behind me an’ don’t open it for anyone but me, understand?” He nodded at the bedroom. “Don’t let me down.”

  “What do you think I am?” she flared, and subsided at once. “All right—I had it coming.” She sounded beaten down to her knees. “I promise nothing will happen to her. You can believe it or not.”

  “If I didn’t believe it I wouldn’t leave her here. I’ll be back just as quick as I can make it.”

/>   “Don’t—” He closed the door from the outside upon whatever she had been about to say.

  He had to walk three blocks before he caught a cab. The cold wind bored at his stitched face. He speculated on the chance of Savino’s going back to Jessamyn’s. It didn’t seem likely. It should be the safest place in town for the child right now. If he hurried.

  • • •

  The blonde in the lobby of Daddario’s apartment remembered him. Her eyes widened. “The police are looking for you,” she said before she thought, and reached for a switch. Johnny stepped forward and caught her hand in his. “Let’s you ‘n me take a little ride upstairs,” he suggested.

  “No!” She couldn’t take her eyes from his face.

  He maneuvered her out from behind the switchboard and up the three carpeted steps to the penthouse elevator. “Daddario up there?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” she whispered, shrinking into a corner. Johnny pushed the button and the elevator started up. “You let me out of here!” she cried in sudden panic. “You’ve got no right—”

  “Who else?” His hard voice cut across hers. “Who else is up there?” he repeated when she stared at him blankly.

  “Only Mrs. Thompson.”

  “Only Mrs. Thompson,” Johnny said. He rolled the irony on his tongue. He grinned at the shivering blond girl. “Well, now—who else do we need?” He felt rejuvenated.

  The elevator came to its non-jarring stop and the doors slid open noiselessly. With her eyes on Johnny she didn’t see the room come into view behind her. At the hoarse masculine scream practically in her ear she leaped convulsively, her face saffron. She fainted in mid-air; Johnny had to lunge to catch her and lower her to the floor of the elevator cab.

  He started out into the room and a woman’s voice froze him. “That’s to show you I’m not fooling, Jim. Where is she?” Johnny thought he had never heard a feminine voice so metallically hard. He rushed off the elevator. In the corner of the room Jim Daddario cowered away from Micheline Thompson standing in front of him threatening him with a needle-like stiletto. His hands and arms sought to protect his face and neck, but a bright red line on his throat oozed down onto his white shirt. Neither of them noticed Johnny.

  “I’ll ask you once more, Jim,” Micheline Thompson grated in the strange-sounding voice. Her face was like chalk. “Where is she?”

  “I told you I don’t know!” the politician babbled. “She was gone when they brought me to. I didn’t see—don’t!” he screamed, and half fell trying to get away from the sudden movement of her arm. He slammed heavily into the wall, his mouth wide open and his eyes staring as the stiletto cut him again. “I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t know!” he yelled.

  “He honest-to-God doesn’t, Micheline,” Johnny said.

  At the first syllable she whirled, catlike, the stiletto extended. She had to re-focus her eyes to take him in. Her arm dropped to her side as she recognized him. “He said you’d been here,” she said dully. “I didn’t believe him.” Behind her, Jim Daddario slumped floorward, easing himself down with his hands on the wall.

  “Genevieve’s safe,” Johnny said quietly. “I took—”

  She came toward him with a rush. “Where? Take me to her!”

  “Easy,” Johnny soothed her. “She’s safe.” He glanced at the man on the floor. “What do we do with him?”

  “You’re not just saying she’s safe?” she pleaded. “You didn’t tell me when you knew Carl was—” She failed to complete the sentence.

  “I’ll take you right to her,” Johnny assured her.

  “What happened to your face?” she began, and turned at a sound from the elevator. The blonde telephone operator wobbled uncertainly into the room. “Why, Esther!” Micheline exclaimed in surprise.

  “I brought her up with me to keep her from makin’ a call,” Johnny explained.

  “I thought he was going to k-kill you,” Esther said to Micheline in a dry voice. “He looked so—terrible.”

  “Esther called me this morning and said all hell had broken loose here,” Micheline said to Johnny. “I didn’t trust Jim and I’d arranged with Esther to keep me posted.”

  “I thought she was workin’ for him,” Johnny said with another look at the blonde who was staring in fascination at Daddario. He pointed with a thumb. “Did he kill Carl?”

  “No!” Daddario blurted from the floor. He sat up, but made no move to get to his feet.

  Johnny looked at Micheline. “He didn’t do it himself,” she said. “He was never out of my sight after he trapped me at the Taft. Which is to say I was never out of his.”

  “I figured that knife job for Savino,” Johnny said. “All except—” He frowned and shook his head. “Well, what do we do? In this town we don’t call the police to come an’ get him.”

  “Esther,” Micheline said. The telephone operator started. “Take the elevator down and go back to work. Keep everyone away that you can. If anyone persists, ring us here when they start up.” The girl nodded and departed. Micheline looked at Daddario and raised the stiletto she had concealed in a fold of her skirt while the blonde was in the room. The politician shrank away as she bent down over him. His lips made a bubbling sound as he tried to say something. She wiped the stiletto on his shirt and straightened up with a smile on her face. It was quite a smile, Johnny thought. “Tie him up,” she said. “Until I see my daughter unharmed I want to know where he is. For a week I have promised myself—”

  “Yeah. Sure. I’ll tie him.” Johnny strode into a bedroom and stripped off the bedding. He tore a sheet into long strips and went back into the other room. “Is there any other way down from here?” he asked Micheline.

  “We can walk down a flight and get the regular elevator.”

  “Okay.” He reached in his pocket and tossed a heavy-bladed knife to Micheline. “Pull the penthouse elevator back up here. Pry open the little door you’ll see head-high at the front an’ take out the fuses. That’ll leave it hung at this floor. I’ll gag this monkey an’ that’ll leave him incommunicado here till we’re ready to come back an’ rack him up.” He prodded the politician with his toe. “Stretch out there, buster, an’ make it easy on yourself.”

  He knelt and went to work.

  Micheline returned and handed Johnny his knife. She stared down at his packaging job, her mouth a thin line. “I hoped you would turn stubborn when he had me call you and you tried to speak to me in French. I had nowhere to turn. With Genevieve in his hands I was—frantic.”

  “How’d he find you in New York?” Johnny asked, ramming a yard of sheet into Daddario’s mouth.

  “Dick Lowell’s brother Toby called him from Washington and wanted to know why Carl was in your hotel room with some wild story. The girl in Dick’s office was on Jim’s private payroll and she at once called Jim. That was the first news either of them had had of Carl since he’d disappeared from Jefferson. Jim had Dick Lowell under control but he was deathly afraid that Toby Lowell would appear on the scene here before he could consolidate his new position. Jim, Kratz, and Savino flew to New York. Kratz hung around your hotel until he saw Carl and followed him back to the room we had at the Taft. When Carl went out, Daddario moved in on me. Then I learned he actually had Genevieve in his apartment, and I didn’t know what do do. I was sure he’d stop at nothing to protect his political position.”

  “He’s at the end of the line now,” Johnny said, rising to his feet. “Call your girl an’ have her get us a cab.” He waited till she returned. “All set? Let’s go.”

  She led the way to an exit sign and a flight of stairs beyond a door. On the landing she turned to look at him. “How did you come to force your way in here this morning?”

  “I just found out for the first time you had a kid. It all of a sudden made sense to me that Daddario could push you around. I didn’t expect to find the little girl; I was just gonna bounce Daddario around till he told me where she was.” On the stairs he thought of something else. “How did Daddario find
out Carl was dead?”

  “I’m not sure. I think now that he knew it before he had me call you at the Duarte. Savino had come in shortly before and there had been an intense conversation that sounded almost like a quarrel. Then they all put their heads together and Jim came over to me and told me to make the call to you.”

  “Yeah,” Johnny grunted. He held the door for her and she walked quickly to the elevator and pushed the button. “They didn’t know what your husband had told me. I didn’t let on to them, though, so I’m damned if I can see why they were spooked so bad they tried inside an hour to get me twice—” He thought about it on the way down in the elevator. In the lobby he stopped at the blond girl’s little switchboard booth. “If anything pops around here, call us at Edison 7-9490.”

  “Surely.” She wrote it down. “I hope you find everything all right. Your cab’s outside.”

  He was silent in the cab on the way over to Jessamyn’s, adding and subtracting in his mind. Beside him Micheline rode with her hands in her lap and he could see the whitened knuckles. It must have been a hell of a week for her. His thoughts returned to New York. “Was Riley at the Manhattan?” he asked her abruptly.

  She looked surprised. “No. When I saw him he was—”

  “Did he know that you saw him?” he pressed her.

  “Of course. Why?”

  “Nothin’, I guess,” he said vaguely. “For a minute there I just had a feelin’—ahh, I don’t know. He’s been hustlin’ me to find you for him an’ I can’t figure out why.”

  “For him?”

  Johnny nodded. “The only thing I could figure was that he was plannin’ to throw the switch on Daddario, but where would he get the nerve?” He looked out the window as the cab turned the corner. “Here we are.”

  He could feel the tension in her as she waited for him to pay off the driver. She walked quickly beside him through the lobby and down to the door of 2-A. She stood with her hands knitted in the strap of her bag as Johnny identified himself to Jessamyn. When the door opened Jessamyn took one look at her face and pointed silently to the bedroom. Micheline flew to it and opened the door. “Hi, mommy,” they heard a drowsy young voice say. “Don’t you think it’s lots nicer here?” They had a single glimpse of Micheline’s radiant face before the door closed.