SSC (1950) Six Deadly Dames

by Frederick Nebel

  “I guess he had a right to, since he owns the house and the property I went after.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Hell knows. I picked up the job in-well-Kansas City. He was on his way West-South. I was to take the stuff and put it in a safe deposit vault, send him the key and receipt. I was paid three hundred bucks in advance-”

  “Ah, he's lyin'; that guy's lyin',” Charlie snarled.

  “Shut up,” the tall man said.

  “That wiper of yours sure has a nasty disposition.” Donahue said, with a nod towards Charlie.

  The tall man said: “Never mind him. Why the hell did Edgecomb send you into his own house? Couldn't you've gone to his caretaker?”

  “He didn't even want the caretaker to know. Listen. I'm a private cop and when I pick up a three-hundred-dollar job as easy as this looked, cripes, I don't ask too many questions. He said the house might be watched. He warned me. Now what a swell spot I'm in when I report that the stuff wasn't there. You guys have got me all wrong. I've got no grudge against you-none of you, except maybe Charlie, and he smells, or maybe he's just kind of meshuga-”

  “Ixnay on them wisecracks,” Charlie snarled, massaging his gun.

  The tall man had calmed down considerably. He plucked thoughtfully at his lip, looking around at his men.

  Pete said: “It's somethin' phony somewhere, I'll bet. I'll bet my shirt there's somethin' phony. I'll bet you anything there is.”

  Donahue chimed in: “You said it, Pete. There certainly is. When Edgecomb sends me to his own house to get something, and it isn't there-” He threw up his hands. “Well, every little thing isn't strictly on the up and up. Look at the hole I'm in. Listen, if I thought”-he jabbed a forefinger rigidly into space-“if I thought I was going to get mixed up in a scatter like this I'd never have taken the job. Not me.” He waved his hands alongside his ears. “No, sir-not this baby!”

  Charlie snarled: “Ah, this guy's just tryin' to talk himself out o' the hot grease! Let me take him for a walk in the woods.”

  “You,” Donahue said sagely, “had better spare the rod.”

  “And spoil the kid, eh?”

  “No. And save yourself from the hot seat, torpedo.”

  “Sh!” the tall man said.

  There were running footsteps racing down a stairway. A man burst into the room.

  “Jeeze, there's a car parked down the street-just parked. It looks like cops-”

  “All the shades down?” cut in the tall man.

  “Sure.”

  Charlie growled: “I'll get the Tommy guns-”

  “You wait a minute!” snapped the tall man. “Those plates were changed, weren't they?”

  “Sure,” Pete said quickly. “Changed them as soon as we got back.”

  “What d' you do with the others?”

  “Chucked them down the well.”

  “Okey.” The tall man listened intently for a split-moment. “Now get this. No shooting. If it's the cops, let 'em in. Spread some cards on the table, and a bottle. Look contented, everybody.”

  He spun on Donahue. “You-you'll sit at the table with the boys. Take your overcoat off. And hold your tongue.”

  “Now you wait a minute,” Donahue clipped crisply.

  “None of that stuff. You're in a tough spot. So am I. I'll play my part providing I walk out with the cops when they leave. I'll walk to their car, wait till they go, and then go with them.”

  “Nix on that!” Charlie barked. “This guy-”

  “I'm not talking to you, you heel. I'm talking to your boss.”

  “You'll wait till they're gone,” the tall man said.

  “Nothing doing,” Donahue flung back hotly. “You can't shoot me now. You can't start a fight. They'd hear it. I walk out with the cops. I tell them nothing. Take that-or leave it.”

  “My-!” groaned Charlie.

  The tall man muttered: “Okey.”

  “Jeeze, you gonna let this guy-”

  “Shut up, Charlie! It's the only out.”

  Pete said: “Somebody knocking.”

  “Answer it,” the tall man said. “You other guys-inside. Quick! I'll do the talking.” His black feverish eyes glittered on Donahue. Donahue smiled.

  “Two-time,” the tall man muttered, “and I'll fog your guts.”

  “How about a little stud,” Donahue recommended.

  IV

  THEY SAT AT A ROUND table in a big room, holding cards, looking contented or bored. Donahue was considering a pair of aces showing, with a third in the hole, and the chunky blond was dealing. A bottle and glasses were on the table, and cigarette smoke writhed and slithered beneath the chandelier.

  Pete yelled down the hallway from the front door: “It's just Sergeant Uhl and a couple o' boys.”

  “Pair of aces bets,” said the blond.

  “Pair of aces bets two blues,” said Donahue.

  A small man in a gray velour hat appeared unostentatiously in the doorway and regarded the gathering with mild blue eyes. He had a white mustache, gently inquisitive eyebrows. Two big men, younger, bulked behind him, hands in pockets significantly. The small man had his fingers loosely locked behind his back.

  “Oh, hello there, Sergeant!” greeted the tall thin man, leaning back, saluting.

  “Hello, Shadd,” Uhl said softly. “I just thought I'd drop around and see who was living here. It's a nice night out.”

  “So they tell me.”

  Uhl looked slowly around the table. “Just a friendly little gathering.”

  “Won't you have a drink?”

  “I never touch it, Shadd. My liver can't stand it any more. This is a nice quiet place you have. Sort of off the beaten paths. It used to be a farm here, didn't it?”

  “Believe it was-at one time.”

  “Yes, yes,” Uhl drawled, “it is a very nice place.”

  “You don't get out this way much, do you, Sergeant?”

  “No, I don't, Shadd. And I like the country, too. So does my wife, Ella.... Now, Charlie, take your hand out of your pocket. I'm not going to hurt you.”

  “I was fishin' for a match,” Charlie blurted.

  Shadd, the tall man, slid a black look towards Charlie.

  Uhl went on drawling monotonously: “We're only on a tail. A man named Jansen was killed a little while ago down on Lindell Boulevard and we thought-no offense, Shadd-we just thought you might know something about it.”

  “Gosh, Sarge, I'm sorry-we don't,” Shadd said.

  “A man in the house next door heard the shots and ran out in time to see a black sedan draw up. Two men jumped in the sedan and it headed west. It had Oklahoma pads. I noticed outside that you've got Missouri pads, but it was a sedan like yours. I noticed your engine's warm.”

  “I just came in a little while ago,” Shadd said. “Did the car come out this way?”

  “The man next door called Headquarters and the dispatcher flashed a description of the car to all outlying districts. The car was supposed to have come in this direction.”

  Donahue said: “Say, before Shadd and the boys came back, I heard a car go by. I looked out the window and I swear it was doing better than sixty. It was a big sedan. I couldn't tell whether it was black or dark blue.”

  “I guess they're heading west,” Uhl said sadly. Then: “Well, we'll get along, Shadd. I'm glad to find you liking it out here. It's healthier than in the city... you know, Shadd?” Uhl almost winked; he smiled gently, said: “Well, we'll be going then. Come on, boys.”

  Donahue stood up. “You heading back for the city, Sergeant?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mind giving me a lift?' “Only too glad to.”

  Donahue shrugged into his raglan, smiling around the table. He could almost feel the current of suspicion, of brooding fear, that pulsed in the men. “I'll be seeing you, boys,” he said lightly. He rolled out with the plain-clothes men into the windy darkness. They crossed a grubby lawn, passing between two huge oaks, and reached the gravel highway. A man was
waiting by a big touring car, the red end of a cigarette incarnadining his nose.

  “You can ride in the back,” Uhl told Donahue kindly. One of the detectives climbed in front beside the chauffeur, and Uhl joined Donahue and the other detective in the rear. Uhl stowed away two Thompson sub-machine guns in a compartment back of the front seat; they had been lying on the floor. The driver turned the car about and the big machine roared back towards the city. Donahue took in landmarks carefully.

  “He was killed in the basement,” Uhl said wearily. “Shot once in the chest, once in the head. He was an old man. The Edgecomb place. Edgecomb went West-or South-for a couple of months. You know him, of course: he's a brilliant lawyer.” He turned towards Donahue in the dark windy tonneau. “You're a stranger here, aren't you?”

  “Yes, kind of.”

  “H'm, I thought so.... Not too fast, Eddie. Some bad curves along here.”

  Donahue got off at Olive Street and Twelfth Boulevard. He walked rapidly to the Apollo and entered a deserted lobby. He stopped at the desk to ask if any telegrams had arrived; there had not; he ascended beside a sleepy elevator boy and went directly to his room. He took off hat and raglan, felt gingerly of the bump on his head, winced, swore softly, and took a long shot of Scotch straight. For a moment he paced up and down with long heavy strides, slamming fist into palm slowly, time and time again.

  Then he went down the hall and knocked at Herron's door. It opened almost immediately, and he walked in. Herron closed the door, locked it. He was still dressed; anxiety and eagerness showed in his face.

  “You didn't get it-”

  “I got it,” clipped Donahue, “but I had to plant it out back of the house. And what a sweet mess I piled into! Bodyguard? Hell!” He dropped to a chair and related briefly what had happened.

  “And Jansen was killed!” exclaimed Herron.

  “So Uhl says. And let me tell you that Uhl is a pretty foxy dick. One of those quiet guys. But he's got a head on his shoulders.”

  Herron blinked. “And Shadd! Shadd is the one! Shadd and his rats! They were waiting, eh? They didn't believe that I had left town. And poor Jansen-It's outrageous, Mr. Donahue! Why didn't you tell Uhl?”

  Donahue scowled. “I made a bargain with Shadd. Uhl's no dumb bunny. He'll get them.”

  “But a bargain with Shadd-”

  “Was a bargain,” broke in Donahue. “Those guys might have socked and planted me away before Uhl and his men came in. Don't you worry about my end of it. I'll get that black box. One bad thing-Shadd knows where I'm staying. They frisked me and I had the hotel key in my pocket,”

  “That is bad, Mr. Donahue, that is bad.”

  “I'll admit it's not rosy, but what the hell. Those guys would have a swell job on their hands trying to crash this hotel.”

  Herron made a sweeping gesture. “Don't think that we are through with them yet! Evidently Uhl hasn't a shred of evidence. It was just blind luck that brought him to that house in the country. They will still try to get that evidence. Even now they may be watching the hotel, watching what move you will make next.”

  Donahue scoffed. “Don't you believe it. They'll lay low for a couple of days at least. They'll think that I might have squealed. They'll watch their tricks for a while. It's almost certain they were keeping an eye on your house, and it's just as certain that if you'd gone out there you wouldn't be alive now to tell about it.”

  “Believe me, Mr. Donahue, I am very grateful.”

  “You can let that slide. You paid for that service. And I'm thanking my stars I got off with only a crack on the conk. Just rest at ease. Temporarily you're out of danger. As a matter of fact, you can go out, make your official appearance, and do what you please. The time would be ripe right now to plant Shadd and his guns. You say you've got a lot of important data. In a pinch, I can swear that I heard them say they'd changed license plates. And I can swear they entered your house.”

  Herron's eyes danced brightly, reflectively. “By Godfrey, perhaps you're right! Indeed I think you are right, Mr. Donahue!”

  “I planted the box behind the shrubbery by that rear wall. I can go out just before dawn and get it.”

  Herron shook his head. “That would be too dangerous, Mr. Donahue, leave it there. I think it will be safe. In the morning, after I have had some sleep I shall decide on a course of action. And remember, I am depending on you to stand by me.”

  Donahue stood up. “Naturally. And I think I'll hit the hay myself.”..

  Herron grasped his hand. “You have practically saved my life, Mr. Donahue. I am deeply grateful. Let us have breakfast at-say-ten tomorrow morning, in here. Eh?”

  “Only omit the grapefruit,” Donahue said.

  V

  AT NINE-THIRTY Donahue awoke, yawned, swung out of bed and took a cold shower. He shaved and dressed, took a look out of the window and saw the inevitable pall of smoke and fog hanging over the city, in the streets.

  Whistling, feeling bright and chipper, he went down the hall and rapped on 804. The door opened and a Negro maid looked out.

  “Mr. Herron in?” Donahue said.

  “Ah's just cleanin' up, suh. Party checked out o' heah.”

  “Checked out?”

  “Yassuh.”

  “Thank you.”

  Donahue retraced his steps down the hall, not whistling, and looking very dark and somber. He swung into his room, closed the door, and stood with feet spread, arms jammed against hips. He nibbled tightly at his lower lip. His eyes became round and hard, staring fixedly at the carpet.

  He chopped off a short oath, put on hat and raglan, went downstairs and out into the street. He called the hotel from a cigar store at the corner. Asked for Mr. Herron. Mr. Herron had checked out at seven that morning. Donahue hung up savagely, went out lighting a cigarette, knew that cigarettes didn't agree with him before breakfast, and snapped it away. He entered a lunch-room and ordered tomato juice, poached eggs on toast and coffee. He ate vigorously but with no great appetite. Finished, he roamed the streets, walking swiftly, seemingly with purpose but actually without it. In that manner, he was surprised to find himself at length in front of the Apollo, and entered.

  He was striding across the lobby when Uhl rose placidly from a divan and laid down a rumpled copy of the Globe-Democrat.

  “Good morning, Donahue,” he said, smiling.

  Donahue stopped short, his scalp contracting, a scowl starting on his-forehead. But on second thought he grinned, said: “Oh, hello, Sergeant.”

  Uhl was alone, his hat in his hand, his white hair thick and bushy. “I would like to have a few words with you-in your room.”

  “Sure thing. Come on.”

  When they were in Donahue's room, Uhl seemed oddly embarrassed for a moment, turning his hat round and round in his neat white hands.

  “Sit down,” Donahue urged.

  “Yes-thanks.”

  Uhl sat down and said: “I'm sorry you didn't tell me last night that you were an Interstate operative. I think pretty highly of your agency.”

  Donahue started. If Uhl's knowing he was a guest at the Apollo had startled Donahue, this second revelation was a distinct shock. But Donahue appeared to take it like an old campaigner. He even chuckled.

  “Take it from me, Sergeant, the only thing I was worrying about last night-or this morning, rather-was getting away with my guts intact. I wouldn't fool you a bit.”

  Uhl nodded understandingly, then went on: “I hope your head is better, too.”

  “You know things, don't you, Sergeant?”

  “Through no fault of mine, Donahue. I suppose you were surprised to find your client gone this morning.”

  Donahue sat down suddenly on the bed. “I like you, Uhl.”

  “Thank you. Can you spare the time to go out to Edgecomb's house with me to show me where the black box is?”

  “A command in the form of a question, eh?”

  “Well”-Uhl smiled modestly-“you know how it is.”

  Uhl had his own
flivver downstairs, which he drove himself. Donahue sat beside him on the way out. When they drew up before the towered house on Lindell Boulevard a policeman came towards them. Uhl told him to stay by the car.

  Donahue led the way into the grounds behind the house, through the arbor.

  “I always wanted a garden like this,” Uhl remarked dreamily. “But it costs money.”

  “I was born in a hotel,” Donahue said.

  He reached the shrubbery, no indecision in his movements. He searched for a couple of minutes, his face falling. Finally he stood up and faced Uhl, shrugged and shook his head.

  “It's gone.”

  Uhl looked suddenly sad. “No, is it?”

  “It's gone. I planted it right there, alongside that vine that comes down the wall.”

  “Pshaw,” Uhl drawled.

  Donahue began thrashing through the shrubbery, inspired by anger more than by a belief that he would find the box. Finally he stopped and came back towards Uhl wearing a brown scowl.

  “What's the lowdown, Sergeant?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, how is it you know so much about what happened last night? Did you go out to that place in the country again and make a pinch?”

  “No,” Uhl said. “I didn't do anything. Your client called me up this morning. Mr. Edgecomb called me up and explained in detail. He said something had happened that made him leave the hotel abruptly. He called from a West End public booth and told me that I should communicate with him tonight or tomorrow morning at the Rex Hotel, in Kansas City.”

  “Why the devil did he do that?”

  He explained his hiding incognito in the Apollo and asked me to keep it a secret. He was a lot concerned over you and asked me if I would look you up and go out with you to get the box. He said you would swear that Shadd and his mob had beaten you up, taken the key and gone back to the house to look for certain important papers. I've heard a lot about Edgecomb. He's an honest lawyer. He was supposed to have left by car for Hot Springs some days ago because this mob was out to take his life. And by the way, he left an envelope with the clerk at the Apollo for you. A little gift, I suppose.”

  Donahue was searching Uhl's face intently. “Edgecomb's got a good reputation here, hasn't he?”