Who Has Wilma Lathrop?

by Keene, Day

“None at all,” Charlie said. “We’ve done fine so far.” He finished tying Lathrop’s hands. “How about tying up Wilma?”

  Pete shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. We got her where we want her now. She’s so in love with the guy she blubs every time she thinks of him getting hurt.”

  “Oh, God,” Wilma sobbed. “Oh, God.”

  “You can do your praying to-night,” Pete said. “In whatever tourist court we hole up in. And whenever you lose interest in what you’re doing, whichever one of us is standing guard on Lathrop will find some way of bringing back your wandering attention.”

  It was too dark for Lathrop to see Vladimir’s face but his voice sounded as if he was crying. “I didn’t know it would be like this, Wilma,” he said. “They told me all they wanted was the diamonds.”

  “How about Lathrop’s car?” Charlie asked.

  Pete thought a moment. “We’ll leave it where it is. The cops can figure out how it got in the alley. All finding it will do will be to intensify the hunt for him. And by the time they decide he isn’t in town, we ought to be past Des Moines. All right. All of you. Let’s go. And one peep out of any of you and you get it right in the yard.”

  Charlie jammed the barrel of his gun into Lathrop’s back. “You heard what the man said. Down the walk and out to the alley.”

  The yard was choked with the blackness of pre-dawn. The morning seemed even colder than it had when they had entered the basement. Lathrop walked with his body touching Wilma’s. “Don’t be frightened,” he consoled her. “Please. Everything is going to be all right.”

  “Listen to who’s talking,” Charlie jeered. He started down the walk and stopped as a bright white light illuminated it. Momentarily confused, thinking his partner had switched on his flashlight, the gunman glanced over his shoulder. “Turn that damn thing off.”

  “I wish I could,” Pete said softly.

  A second, a third, a fourth, a fifth, a sixth, a seventh spotlight, some white, some red, blinked on and bathed the snow-covered back yard with light. Then from somewhere in the darkness behind the battery of lights, Detective Harris called, “If you boys are smart, you’ll drop your guns. But you can have it either way you want it.”

  Vladimir sobbed, “Lathrop wasn’t kidding. He did bring the cops with him. A whole army of them.”

  Pete cursed under his breath. “The schoolteaching son-of-a-bitch. That’s why he stopped to light that cigarette on the porch, to tip them the play was moving over here.”

  Lathrop said, quietly, “Another honour student.”

  Harris called again. “I’m going to count to three. One — ”

  “We’ve had it,” Charlie called. “We’re dead.”

  Both he and Pete dropped their guns and raised their hands. Frantic with fear, Vladimir snatched one of the guns from the walk and ran back towards the house. “They’re not going to take me. They’re not going to lock me up.”

  Still another spotlight winked on, this one coming from the front of the house, shining down the areaway between the two buildings.

  “Hold it right there, Stanislawow,” Lieutenant Jezierna called.

  Blinded by the light, the blond youth fired at the voice and Lathrop pushed Wilma to the ground and covered her with his body as a sub-machine gun began to chatter, the ricocheting lead screaming off the brick walls.

  From where Lathrop lay it looked as if Vladimir was trying to climb the beam of light pinpointing him. His knees churned in one spot. He reached as high as he could with his left hand. Then a dozen bullets thudded into his body and he slid down the beam of light to the walk.

  In the silence that followed, Detective Harris called, “Are you all right, Lathrop?”

  Lathrop lay a moment cushioned by the soft body under his, his cheek pressed to Wilma’s. Then he turned his face towards the voice. “Yes, I’m all right,” he said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  MORNING AS seen from the frosted windows of the big room housing Homicide on the fourth floor of 1121 South State Street was cold and grey and veined with red. North and south and east and west, the city was awakening. In the residential districts bearded, sleepy-eyed men were shaking furnaces and moving up the thermostat of their oil burners or pounding on cold radiators to attract the janitor’s attention. Normally attractive housewives wearing shapeless kimonos, their hair done up in curlers, were opening packages of Krispy Krunchies or frying eggs and bacon as they yawned at the recorded music played by their favourite disc jockey or listened to the Marshall Field Musical Clock, pausing from time to time in the homely tasks of morning to inquire, petulantly, of their husbands and children whether they wanted to be late for work or school.

  On South State and North Clark and West Madison Streets, the last all-night bar had emptied. The youngest B-girl had gone home, alone or escorted. The drunks had been picked from the doorways, the neon signs turned off. The last card had been dealt. The last pair of dice had rolled.

  The El trains and street-cars and buses were sprinkled with home-bound night workers, some reading their favourite morning paper, more merely huddled in apathy. In hospitals throughout the city the dying died and, the crisis passed, the sick who were to live began a new lease on life as a hundred mellow church bells tolled those of their faith to early morning mass. This was the hour of the day when the pulse of the city beat slowest. But here in this one tall building dedicated to the preservation and enforcement of the law, time, as such, had no meaning. The mechanical pulse of the machine beat as strongly at six o’clock in the morning as it did at noon. Facts were poured into various hoppers and depending on the slots from which they emerged the people whom they concerned went home to their families, were held for further investigation, or were booked to stand trial for the crime or crimes of which they were accused.

  Lathrop returned his attention from the brightening dawn to the faces of the two girls seated in the office. Harris had allowed Wilma, under guard, to go upstairs and dress in her own clothes before they’d been brought to the Bureau. She’d put on a simple grey wool dress that went well with the squirrel coat he’d bought her. Her slim legs were sheathed in sheer nylon. She was wearing high-heeled suede shoes. But there had been nothing she could do about her face. Both of her cheeks were still puffed. With all, she had a certain poise, a certain innate beauty.

  Her sister Vilna was another matter. Seated next to a buxom matron, pleased by the excitement and proximity of so many men, the simple-minded girl’s eyes moved from one man to another like the eyes of a five-year-old viewing a case of penny candy. From time to time the matron had to hold her hands. The matron’s comment was always the same. “Now, be a good girl, Vilna.”

  Lathrop’s eyes continued around the circle. Pete Gina and Charles Burke, so identified by the police, were sitting in straight-back chairs, their left and right wrists respectively manacled together and an officer stood back of each of their chairs.

  Two of the men in the group in the office were unknown to Lathrop. His lean face lined with fatigue but his eyes still piercing, Detective Harris addressed the older of the two men. “You are Attorney Carl A. Ramsey?”

  “That is correct,” the lawyer said.

  “With offices in the New York Life Insurance Building on LaSalle Street.”

  “That is also correct.”

  “Mrs. Lathrop worked for you? As your secretary?”

  “Some months ago. For a period of two months. Only I knew her as Wilma Stanis. And, frankly, I was disappointed when she left me to marry Lathrop.”

  Harris waved the statement aside as immaterial to the interrogation. “A few minutes ago, Mrs. Lathrop made a statement. She said that shortly after she entered your employment she asked you a hypothetical question concerning the best way to return stolen property. Do you remember the conversation?”

  “Very well.”

  “What was your advice?”

  “That there was only one way to return stolen property, which was to go to the police and make
a truthful declaration as to how the property came into one’s possession.”

  “Regardless of any possible penalty attached?”

  “Regardless of any possible penalty attached.”

  “At the time had you any idea that Mrs. Lathrop was referring to herself?”

  “No. At the time I considered her a very sweet and capable and ethical young woman.” The attorney thought a moment, added, “I still do. There come times in all of our lives when we face making a decision that is almost impossible to make. And from what I have gleaned of the case, Mrs. Lathrop was faced with just such a decision. If she returned the diamonds as, obviously, she wanted to do, she laid herself open to being charged with a murder she says she did not commit. The diamonds, as she puts it, were her insurance. As long as they were in her possession and Gina and Burke wanted them, neither man stood to gain a thing by transferring their guilt to her.”

  Harris held up his hand. “Please. This neither a hearing nor a trial. It is merely a routine interrogation.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ramsey said.

  “Now as to last night. Did you witness the second attack on Mr. Lathrop? The one that took place in front of your residence?”

  “No. I did not. I was watching a television programme. But from what I have since learned my next-door neighbour did see and report the affair to the Oak Park Police.”

  Harris glanced at his memo pad. “We have a record of that call. Thank you. Thank you very much for being so co-operative so early in the morning, counsellor.”

  Ramsey stood up. “Not at all.”

  Lathrop liked the attorney’s looks, the manner in which he conducted himself. He asked Harris, “Might I say something?”

  “Of course,” Harris said.

  Lathrop addressed the attorney. “Would you mind staying and representing Mrs. Lathrop? I was on my way to ask you to act for me when Gina and Burke caught up with me last night.”

  Ramsey sat back in his chair. “I will be pleased to represent Mrs. Lathrop.”

  Harris wasn’t as pleased. “That is your privilege and hers, counsellor. But try to remember this is just an interrogation.”

  “I’ll try,” Ramsey promised.

  Harris looked at Burke and Gina. “You boys ready to talk?”

  Pete Gina simulated surprise. “About what? We haven’t done anything.”

  Harris checked the items on his pad. “Except conspired to compound a crime. Two charges of assault and battery. Felonious assault on the person of a female. One count of attempted murder. One count of kidnapping. Then there is Mrs. Lathrop’s statement that you boys killed Raoul Contini and Frenchy Schaeffer.”

  “It’s her word against ours.”

  “Then there is Nielsen. You boys have been quite busy since you hit town, haven’t you?”

  Burke said, smugly, “Vladimir killed the janitor.”

  “But you were there?”

  “Y-yeah.”

  “Then whether your statement is true or not, if you were present at the scene of the crime, under Illinois law you are equally guilty.”

  “Shut up, Charlie,” Gina said. He looked at Attorney Ramsey. “How about you representing us, too?”

  “No, thank you,” Ramsey said. “I fear there might be conflicting interests.”

  Harris addressed the other man whom Lathrop didn’t know. “Would you identify yourself?”

  “I am Lieutenant O’Brien of the New York Police.”

  “Detailed to what department?”

  “To Homicide. But on this trip I am also representing the Robbery Detail.”

  “Have you examined the packet of unset diamonds that were found in the pocket of Charles Burke?”

  “I have. And the weight and number of stones correspond exactly with the list given me before I left New York of the stones taken from a Mr. Evan Murray of 221 Sutton Place.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Harris said. He drank from the container of cold coffee on his desk. “How do you feel, Mrs. Lathrop?” he asked over the lip of the container.

  “I’m all right,” Wilma said.

  “Do you think you can add a few details to what you have already told us?”

  Wilma looked at Lathrop, then away. “Of course. God knows I haven’t much to be proud of, but I didn’t kill either Raoul or Frenchy. Gina and Burke killed them in an attempt to highjack the diamonds they got in the Sutton Place job.”

  “Were you present at this robbery?”

  “No. I didn’t even know they’d pulled the job until they came back to the apartment.”

  Harris looked at the New York officer.

  “That checks with what I have,” Lieutenant Kelly said. “We have it listed as a two-man job.”

  Her voice barely audible, Wilma continued, “The only reason I kept the stones was because I was afraid. I was in the apartment, in another room, when Gina and Burke killed Raoul and Frenchy. And when I heard the shots I snatched up the packet and ran down the fire escape because I knew that as long as I had the diamonds Gina and Burke wouldn’t dare kill me or attempt to pin the murders they’d committed on me.”

  “You knew them?”

  “As friends of Raoul’s.” Her mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “Using the term loosely.”

  “You came directly to Chicago?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And got a job with Attorney Ramsey?”

  “The first week I was here. I’d studied typing and shorthand during my one year in high school and I knew enough to get by.”

  “In other words you used his office as a hide-out.”

  “Yes and no. I was terribly afraid, but what had happened in the apartment showed me where I was heading. And I wanted to get out of the rackets. I thought maybe Attorney Ramsey could return the stones for me. Then I met and fell in love with Jim and I was afraid to do anything about them.” Wilma tried hard not to cry and failed. “I was happy for the first time in my life and I didn’t want Jim to find out what I’d been.”

  Harris sorted through the papers on his clip board until he found Wilma’s file card. “I’ve seen a lot worse records. With the exception of a fine for shilling for a gambling house none of the charges against you were proven. How old were you when you quit high school and left home, Mrs. Lathrop?”

  “I was fifteen.”

  “And you’ve made your own living ever since?”

  “Except for the few months I was married to Raoul.”

  “How did you make your living?”

  “As a waitress. Running the dice game in various taverns. I even tried being an entertainer. But I wasn’t much of a singer.”

  “Why did you leave home?”

  Wilma took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Well, as you know,” she looked at her feeble-minded sister, “a very unnatural situation existed. There was nothing I could do about it. But when Val tried to induce me to stay, I hit him on the head with a lamp and got out. I was afraid to stay.”

  “And when did you see your brother again?”

  “Not for a number of years. Twice he dropped into taverns where I was working.” Wilma ran her fingers through her hair. “Then I didn’t see him again until after I had returned from New York and was married to Jim. Val showed up at the flat one day and I almost died. He said he’d seen me on the street and followed me.”

  “What did he want?” Harris asked.

  “He wanted money.”

  “You gave it to him?”

  “I had to.”

  “Why?”

  “He said if I didn’t he’d tell Jim I’d been in the rackets.” Wilma pleated her grey wool skirt. “Then I didn’t want Jim to know I had such a family.”

  “How long did this situation continue?”

  “For about two months.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Val wanted more money than I could squeeze out of my household account without Jim becoming suspicious. And when I couldn’t give it to him, I learned, later, he contacted Gina and Burke and
promised to finger me for a cut of the Sutton Place diamonds.”

  Harris laid his clip board aside. “Which brings us up to the night you ‘disappeared’. Had Gina and Burke contacted you before Mr. Lathrop came home with his story of what had happened in the Juvenile Court parking lot?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How?”

  “By telephone.”

  Attorney Ramsey interposed, “As your attorney, Mrs. Lathrop, I think it only fair for me to warn you that you don’t have to answer any question you don’t want to.”

  Wilma made a futile gesture with her hands. “I’ve nothing to be proud of, but neither have I anything to hide.” She used the clean handkerchief Lathrop offered her to wipe her eyes. “I made Jim as good a wife as I could under the circumstances. I tried to act like I thought a schoolteacher’s wife might act. But when Gina and Burke phoned I knew that time was running out on me so I tried to have everything nice for our last meal together and I was so nervous that everything went wrong. Then when Jim told me about what had happened in the parking lot I knew it was our last night together and I tried to prove to him how much I really loved him so he would have that memory at least.”

  Harris allowed her to cry for a few minutes, then resumed the interrogation. “Just what did happen that last night?”

  Wilma fought for control of her emotions. “Well, after Jim had gone to sleep I dressed and took the money, meaning to take a plane to somewhere, get out of his life before I hurt him any more than I had.”

  “And then?”

  “I found the money was just sucker bait. Gina and Burke had reasoned I would react just as I did and they were waiting in the basement.”

  “With your brother, Vladimir?”

  “No. Vladimir wasn’t there. Just the two of them.”

  “Go on.”

  “They took me into the boiler room and searched me.” Both her voice and her eyes turned hard.

  “Why didn’t you call out?”

  The life left Wilma’s voice. “I didn’t want Jim to find out what I’d been. Besides, they threatened to kill Jim if I yelled.”

  “And then?”

  “Nielsen made a late tour of his fires to make certain they were ready for morning and he came into the boiler room while Gina was examining me. And he tried to defend me and they beat him over the head with their blackjacks. And when he was dead they put him in a crate in the front of the basement.”