‘I’m all right’
I tilted the flask and let some of the raw spirit trickle down my throat. It wasn’t my idea of a drink, but it was the right stuff to keep out the cold.
‘I think we can go on,’ I said. ‘No point in lying here if they’re not coming over.’ ‘Do you think they’ve gone back to the mine?’ she asked.
‘Maybe. Let’s go and see. He may have decided to go back there and shift the reefers rather than lose any more men. With any luck, the cops will be there to meet him.’
‘Unless he spotted your girl,’ Mac said, getting to his feet.
‘Come on. Let’s get over there.’
I led the way, moving fast, but keeping under cover, taking no risks. The way was downhill. Ahead of us the bushes and shrubs began to thin out, and the face of the bill gradated slowly to the floor of the valley. We had only another fifty yards ahead of us before we reached the flat, open plain of the desert.
We paused and examined the ground before us. The moonlight reflected on the sand. You could have seen any movement a half a mile away.
‘If they’re still in the hills, this is where we get shot in the back,’ Mac muttered. ‘Going to chance it?’
‘Yeah. You two stay here. If nothing happens to me, come on after me.’
‘You’re a sucker for trouble, aren’t you?’ Mac said and gave me a slap on the back.
Mary said in her calm, matter-of-fact voice, ‘I don’t think they’re up there. I think they’ve gone on to the mine.’
I hoped she was right as I slid down the little slope on to the sand. I began to run, zigzagging a little my shoulders hunched, and covering the ground rapidly. Nothing happened. I ran on for a couple of hundred yards, then stopped and turned. Mac and Mary were running after me. I waited for them to catch me up.
* * *
‘They’re at the mine,’ I said. ‘Spread out and keep moving. Drop fiat if there’s any shooting.’ We began to run over the undulating sand towards the mine. Every now and then we paused to get our breath, but I kept them at it. I was worried, thinking of Paula, wondering if she had got through. The silence worried me. If Mifflin had arrived, there should have been shooting. After a while, the sloping edge of the quarry came into sight.
I signaled to the other two to stop, waved them to me.
‘We crawl the rest of the way,’ I said. ‘Barrett may have left a look-out and we don’t want to run into him. You keep in the rear,’ I went on to Mary. ‘Leave this to Mac and me.’
We set off again, moving slowly now, using every scrap of cover, making no noise. Mac suddenly pointed, and I followed the direction of his finger. I could just make out a man’s head, outlined against the horizon, as he knelt in the scrub, looking our way.
Mac put his mouth close to my ear. ‘I’ll take him’ he said. ‘I was a Ranger once. This is right up my alley.’
I nodded and watched him crawl in a circling movement towards the watcher.
Mary slid over the sand and lay by me. She too had seen the head against the horizon.
We waited. Nothing happened, and I began to wonder what Mac was playing at. The watcher suddenly half stood up, looking our way. He made a beautiful target against the sand and the moonlight. Then he gave a sharp cough and dropped face downwards in the sand. Mac waved and disappeared once more behind the sand ridge. I crawled, on, motioning Mary to keep in the rear.
‘He didn’t know anything about it,’ Mac whispered when I joined him. ‘I’m beginning to enjoy this.’ We crawled to the edge of the quarry and looked down. The blazing headlights of the two trucks lit up a scene of tremendous activity. Men were loading the wooden boxes on to the trucks, while others came staggering down the steep path from the tunnel, carrying more boxes. One of the trucks was already loaded and the other was half filled.
Standing in the entrance of the tunnel, waving his men on, and shouting at them to hurry was Barratt.
Mac’s hand lifted and the sight of the .38 grew steady on Barrett’s chest, but I grabbed his wrist.
‘No! My girl must be down there. She couldn’t have got through. I’m going to look for her. If they spot me, start shooting, and get Barratt first.’
He nodded, and I began the slow, dangerous climb down into the quarry. Every now and then I dislodged a shower of stones, and I ducked behind a bush, holding my breath. But the men working below me were far too busy getting the boxes into the truck to be on their guard.
Keeping in the shadow, I reached the bottom of the quarry. There was plenty of cover, and I worked my way silently over the ground towards the trucks.
I could hear Barrett’s voice as be cursed the sweating men, telling them to hurry. I kept on until I reached the loaded truck. On its blind side, I stood up and looked inside the cabin.
Paula was in there, tied hand and foot and gagged. She turned her head and we looked at each other. I opened the cabin door and swung myself up inside.
She looked pale and a little scared, but as soon as I got the gag off she smiled at me.
‘Am I glad to see you,’ she said huskily.
‘That makes two of us,’ I said, cutting the cord that tied her wrists. What happened? Did you walk right into them?’
She nodded, rubbing her wrists while I freed her ankles.
‘He still thinks you’re in the mine,’ she told me. ‘He hasn’t an idea that I’ve been in there. He thought I was trying to find a way in. As soon as they have finished loading, he intends to take me in there and leave me there.’
‘That’s what he thinks. Come on; let’s get up to the top of the quarry. We have friends up there.’
Keeping on the blind side of the truck, we began to edge silently back the way I had come. When we were half-way up the side of the quarry there came a sudden yell behind us that froze us to a standstill. We looked back. Barrett was staring into the tunnel. The three men working by the truck also stared towards the tunnel. The frantic, blood-curdling yell came again. Barrett suddenly fired into the tunnel, shouted and began to run frantically down the path towards the trucks.
‘The rats!’ I said and grabbed Paula’s arm. ‘Up as fast as you can.’
Both Mary and Mac began firing into the quarry as we scrambled up the steep slope. We heard shots and yells below us, but we didn’t look back nor pause until we flung ourselves, sobbing for breath, into the scrub overhanging the edge of the quarry.
Mac came charging round to join us.
‘Rats!’ He was pointing, his fleshy, red face tight with horror. ‘Look at them! Those guys down there haven’t a chance.’
I looked down into the quarry. It was alive with rats. They swarmed round the five men, who bad come together an were shooting at them. I could see Barratt waving his arms and screaming. Three enormous brutes sprang at him and he disappeared beneath a heaving sea of sleek, brown bodies. The other men were dragged down as more rats came rushing down the path from the tunnel, squealing and fighting to get at them.
I caught hold of Paula. ’Let’s get out of here.’ The four of us ran across the sand towards the Highway.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I
It was just after midnight when Mary Jerome, Francon, Paula and myself filed into Brandon’s office. Muffin, red-faced and thoughtful, brought up the rear.
Brandon sat behind his desk and glared at us as we came in. He wasn’t looking his usual immaculate self. Mifflin had hauled him out of bed to hear me repeat my story.
‘Well, sit down,’ Brandon growled, waving his hand to the half-circle of chairs lined up before his desk. He swung around to glare at Mifflin. ‘What did you get?’
‘Two truck loads of reefers and sixteen corpses,’ Muffin told him.
‘Barratt’s dead. Only one member of the gang was alive when we got there, and he’s talked. But it’s Malloy’s story. Do you want him to tell it?’
Brandon favoured me with a heavy scowl as be opened a drawer and took out a cigar box. He selected a cigar without offering the box to anyone and
sat back.
‘That’s what he’s here for,’ he said, pointed a fat finger at Mary Jerome and asked, ‘Who’s this?’
‘Lee Dedrick’s wife,’ I told him.
He started, stared at me.
‘Who?’
‘Lee Dedrick’s wife.’
He swung round on Mary Jerome.
‘That right?’
‘Yes,’ she said in her cold, flat voice.
‘When did you marry him?’
‘About four years ago.’
He put the cigar down, ran well-manicured fingers through his thick white hair.
‘Does that make the Marshland marriage bigamous?’ he asked in a strangled voice.
‘It does,’ I said, enjoying his consternation. ‘Do you want me to begin at the beginning or do you want to ask questions?
He picked up the cigar again, pierced it savagely with the end of a match.
‘Does Mrs. Dedrick — Serena Marshland know about this?’
‘She does now.’
He drew down the corners of his mouth, lifted his fat shoulders in a shrug of resignation and waved his hand.
‘Go ahead, but don’t expect me to believe it’
‘A lot of this is guess-work,’ I said, shifting forward to the edge of my chair. ‘Some of it can be proved; most of it can’t. We do know for certain that Barratt was the boss of a smuggling ring. Lee Dedrick and Lute Ferris were his aides. Dedrick took care of the Paris end and Ferris smuggled the stuff in from Mexico. We have proof of that. We also know Dedrick was married to this girl here’ — I waved to Mary Jerome — ‘who had no ides what his racket was. He deserted her, married Serena Marshland and returned to New York. All he wanted was Serena’s money. Now this is where I start guessing. Souki found out who Dedrick was. Maybe be tried to blackmail. I don’t know. It seems possible he threatened Dedrick who saw his plans to get hold of Serena’s fortune blowing up in his face. He murdered Souki to shut his mouth. To cover the murder and to get as much money out of Serena as he could, he faked his own kidnapping. The idea worked. No one suspected he had killed Souki, and no one suspected he hadn’t been kidnapped. Barratt helped him. He kept under cover in Barratt’s apartment while Barratt collected the ransom and framed Perelli for the kidnapping. It was easy enough. Perelli had an apartment opposite Barratt’s. Barratt hated Perelli. He hid the fishing-rod, some of the ransom money and the gun in Perrelli’s room and tipped the police. They moved in grabbed Perelli.
Brandon glanced over at Muffin and snorted.
‘Know what this sounds like to me?’ He thumped the desk as he glared at me. ‘A typical Malloy pipe-dream. You’re thing to get Perelli out of a jam. Nothing you’ve said yet convince me he didn’t snatch Dedrick. What else have you got?’
‘A reception clerk named Grace Lehmann who work at Barratt’s apartment house saw him with the fishing-rod. tried to blackmail him. Dedrick went to see her and murdered her.’
Brandon gave a scoffing laugh.
‘Who did you say killed her?’
‘Dedrick, the man in the fawn suit. The man Joy Dreadon saw with Grace Lehrnann.’
‘That’s a pretty tale. The Lehmann woman committed suicide. Your only witness is a streetwalker. Do you think I’d take her word? None of your witnesses are worth a damn, anyway.’
I lifted my shoulders.
‘How do you know the man in the fawn suit is Dedrick?’ he demanded.
‘I recognized his voice. He spoke to me over the phone, if you remember, when he staged the faked kidnapping. He has a voice you don’t forget.’
‘Tell that to the jury and see where you get,’ Brandon sneered. ‘All you’ve got is that Barratt ran a smuggling ring. I’ll give you that, but nothing else. The rest of the stuff is a pipe-dream.’
I looked across at Francon, who shook his head.
‘Well, all right, then I guess we can all go to bed,’ I said to Brandon. ‘I didn’t ask to come here, and if you don’t want to believe the story, it’s okay with me.’
‘We’ll go over it again,’ Brandon said, beginning to enjoy himself, ‘and we’ll have it down in writing.’ He nodded to Mifflin, who opened the door and bawled for Sergeant MacGraw.
After a while MacGraw came in, a placid expression on his white, flabby face. He sat down at a table, a pad of paper in front of him and waited.
I went through the story again, covering everything that had happened to date. It took some time. Then Brandon tried to shake me, tried to shale Mary Jerome, and even Paula. He got nowhere.
‘There’s not a scrap of evidence in any of this,’ he said at last. ‘Bring that yarn into court and see what the D.A. does to it.’ He turned to Francon. ‘So far as I’m concerned, Perelli Snatched Dedrick. Nothing this parlour detective has found out makes any difference to me. Any witness he claims to have is either dead or unreliable. If you think Perelli’s alibi with this Lola woman will stand up in court, you’re crazy. Now, get out, the lot of you! You’ve wasted enough of my time already. Bring Dedrick here, and I might believe you, and that’s my final word!’
Outside in the passage the four of us looked at each other.
‘That’s the way it is,’ Francon said. ‘He’s right, Vic. It makes a nice story, but it gets us exactly nowhere in court. We’ve got to find Dedrick.’
Muffin joined us at the end of the passage.
‘Well, come on,’ he growled. ‘Haven’t you people got any beds?’
‘Are you looking for Dedrick?’ I asked.
‘We’re looking for this guy in the fawn suit,’ Muffin carefully. We’ve been looking for him since Lehmann’s killing. You don’t have to pay any attention to Brandon. He knows Grace Lehmann was murdered. He was just sounding off.’
‘If you’re looking for him, why haven’t you found him?’
Muffin’s red face turned purple.
‘If he’s to be found, we’ll find him. Don’t start making cute remarks. If he was still in town, we would have had him by now.’
‘Not if he’s holed up. You haven’t searched every house in town,’ I said. ‘And that’s the only way you will find him.’
Francon was getting bored with this.
‘Well, I guess I’m going to bed. I have a busy day in front of me,’ he said. ‘You have a week before they bring Perelli to trial. Two more days before I quit I’m not going into court with nothing in my hands, Vic. I warned you; and I mean it’
He went off before I could argue with him.
Depressed and tired, Paula, Mary and I went down the steps to the street.
‘Shall I take Mrs. Dedrick to my apartment?’ Paula asked.
‘If you will. We’ll meet tomorrow at the office. Maybe I’ll have an idea by then.’
I got them a taxi and saw them off, then, as I was walking over to the Buick, Muffin joined me.
‘Sorry about this, Vic,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing I can do about it.’
‘I know.’ I leaned against the car and groped for a cigarette. ‘Do you think Dedrick has managed to leave town?’
Muffin shrugged.
‘I don’t know. We have men watching the roads, the airport and the station. He was lucky if be did. He’s either got through the cordon or he’s found a hide-out where no one would think of looking for him. Something like that.’
‘I nodded.’
‘We’ve checked every likely spot,’ Mifflin went on. ‘If he has found a hide-out, it’s a good one.’
I had a sudden idea.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘It’s my bet he’s still in town. Stick around, Tim. I believe I’ve got something. Don’t go to bed yet. Maybe I’ll give you a call. Will you be at home?’
‘That’s where I’m going now,’ Muffin said. What’s the Idea? Where do you think he is?’
I climbed into the Buick and started the engine.
‘Where you wouldn’t dare look for him,’ I said out of the window. ‘Ocean End, brother.’
I engaged gear and drove away fast as he yelled after
me.
II
I turned off the car headlights as I swung the nose of the Buick into the Private road leading to Ocean End.
The most unlikely place, and yet the most obvious for Dedrick to hide out would be Ocean End. If Marshland had left the estate, and Serena was there alone, Dedrick might not have much trouble to persuade her to give him sanctuary, depending on the story be told her.
It was no more than an idea, but although I was aching for my bed, I knew I couldn’t rest until I had put it to a test.
Half-way up the drive, I stopped the car and got out. I reluctantly decided it would be safer to walk the rest of the way.
The main gates were closed. I had heard stories about the various burglar alarms fitted throughout the estate, so I kept away from them. I walked beside the high wall until I came upon a creeper that looked strong enough to take my weight. With a little effort, I reached the top of the wall and surveyed the moonlit garden spread out before me.
I dropped quietly from the wall, landing in the soft soil of a rose bed.
In the distance I could see the house, and I moved cautiously towards it, keeping in the shadows, using every scrap of cover I could find until I reached the terrace.
The ground floor was in darkness, but two of the upper windows showed lights. The time was twenty minutes past two: late enough for anyone to be up.
My rubber-soled shoes made no sound as I mounted the steps that led to the terrace. Above me the light from one of the windows fell directly on the terrace, making a sharp, bright pattern on the white stone. The climb up to the window wasn’t difficult. The window led out on to a balcony, and by standing on the terrace balustrade I swung myself up on to the upper balcony. I hung on with both hands, drew myself up and peered into the uncurtained window.
I could scarcely believe my luck. The man in the fawn suit lay flat on his back on the bed. He had a glass of whisky in one hand and a magazine in the other. A cigarette burned evenly from his thin lips, and he read with frowning concentration.
I had played a hunch, and it had come off. Yet, come to think of it, it wasn’t so much luck as good reasoning. Where else would he have been so safe?
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