“I tell you I didn’t do it!” Ken caught hold of Parker’s arm. “You’ve got to believe me!”
Parker shook him off and backed away.
“It doesn’t matter a damn if I believe you or not. That’s for the police to decide. Sooner or later they’ll catch up with you. They have your description. They’ll find you before long, and when they do, you’ve got to keep quiet about me. Do you understand?”
“Oh, shut up about yourself!” Ken said, suddenly furious. “All you think about is yourself. What about me?”
“This is your mess, not mine!” Parker exclaimed.
“Is it? You are responsible. It was you who kept insinuating I should have a night out. All right, I was a damned fool to listen to your dirty suggestions, and a bigger fool to act on them. But if it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t…” Ken stopped, realizing what he was saying; then, seeing Parker’s horrified expression, he couldn’t contain himself any longer. “Yes, I admit it! I was with her last night! I was in her apartment, but I didn’t kill her! She went into her bedroom and left me in the sitting-room…” “Stop it!” Parker shouted, his face twitching. “You don’t know what you are saying. I won’t listen. You’re trying to make me an accessory by telling me this. I won’t listen I Keep me out of it! That’s all I’m asking. This is your affair. It’s nothing to do with me. All I ask you is not to tell them I gave you her telephone number!”
Ken stared at Parker’s white, twitching face, and he suddenly gained courage from Parker’s fear.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll keep you out of it. But don’t forget you are morally responsible. It was entirely due to you I went to her place. It is you who got me into this mess. Don’t forget it. Now get out!”
Parker needed no encouragement. He hurried into the hall, opened the front door and went down the path at a shambling trot.
Moving to the window, Ken watched him go.
Well, at least he’ll keep his mouth shut, he thought. He’s even more frightened than I am.
But the pressure was on now. He thought with sinking heart of the shape of his future. There was Sweeting to watch out for. There was the blonde to be avoided, and now, every day, he would have to work side by side with Parker who knew he had been with Fay and who believed he had killed her. Sooner or later Ann would be back; then a new nightmare would begin for him.
He stared blindly out of the window, his fears pressing in on him. There seemed no way out, and his new-found courage deserted him.
He did something he hadn’t done since he was a child. He went into his bedroom, and, kneeling down by the bed, he tried to pray.
III
Lieutenant Harry Adams walked down the dark alley that led to the entrance of the Blue Rose nightclub, his thin shoulders hunched against the rain.
He rang the bell and when the judas window slid back, he said, “I want Sam.”
Joe, the doorman, stared at him, hesitated, then opened the door.
“I’ll get him, Lieutenant,” he said.
Adams lit a cigarette and looked around the ornate lobby. The hat-check girl started towards him, suddenly recognized who he was and stopped abruptly as if she had seen a snake in her path. She went quickly into the Ladies’ room.
Adams was used to this kind of reception. It mildly amused him.
A red-head in a low-cut evening dress, wearing emerald green diamondshaped frame glasses, came out of the Ladies’ room, looked at him, began a professional smile which slipped off her heavily made-up lips as she caught Adams’ frozen stare.
She moved hurriedly down the stairs to the restaurant, brushing past Sam Darcy as he came up.
“Evening, Lieutenant,” Darcy said, his eyes wary. “We don’t often see you here. Anything I can do, or are you here for a little relaxation?”
“I’m on duty, Sam,” Adams said, looking the big negro over. He scarcely came up to the diamond in Darcy’s shirtfront, but the negro’s vastness didn’t appear to impress him. “I want to talk to you. Let’s go somewhere private.”
“Okay,” Darcy said reluctantly. “Come into my office.”
He led the way down the passage and through a door into a big, luxuriously furnished room with a desk by the curtained windows.
Claudette, Darcy’s wife, was counting a stack of money on the desk. Her great eyes opened wide when she saw Adams, and she looked anxiously at her husband.
“Run along, honey,” Darcy said. “The Lieutenant and I have got business.”
She gave Adams a scared look, hurriedly pushed the money into a drawer and went out, closing the door behind her.
Adams sat down.
“Drink, Lieutenant?”
“I’m on duty, Sam.”
Darcy made himself a small whisky and soda and sat down behind his desk.
“Anything wrong?”
“Not unless you have a guilty conscience,” Adams said, staring down at his small feet. “It’s about Fay Carson.”
Darcy had already guessed that was why Adams had called. He waited, not saying anything.
“Donovan been here yet?” Adams asked.
“Yes. He was here a couple of hours ago.”
Adams nodded.
“If you see him again, don’t tell him we’ve talked. I’m working on this independently. This could be a political jam, and it may need careful handling.”
Darcy had already realized that as soon as he heard Fay had been murdered, but he didn’t say so.
“That’s okay, Lieutenant.”
“I’ve always been pretty easy with you, Sam,” Adams went on. “There have been times when I could have made things hot for you. There was that time the dame made an exhibition of herself. Most clubs would have been shut down after a scene like that. Then there was that shooting back in December. I guess you have had a little service from me. This might be a good time to show your appreciation.”
“Anything I can do, Lieutenant, I’ll do,” Darcy said quietly.
Adams flicked ash on to the floor.
“I want to crack this one fast. I don’t think Donovan will get very far.” His cold blue eyes met Sam’s. “He might get a break; stumble on something, but I doubt it. He needn’t have any help from you.”
“He hasn’t got it up to now,” Darcy said.
“Lindsay Burt could be the new political boss in a few months, certainly in a year,” Adams went on. “This present set-up is on the skids. You, and to some extent me, have to look ahead. Bun could shut you down, Sam, once he got into office. This dive isn’t as sweet-smelling as it could be. But if you were helpful, he might feel he owed you something. He might leave you alone.”
“I understand, Lieutenant.”
“Right.” Adams stubbed out his cigarette, lit another and dropped the match into the ash bowl. “Did you see this Carson girl last night?”
“Yes.”
“Who was she with?”
“A tall, dark, good-looking guy in a grey suit.”
Adams nodded.
“That’s the guy. Ever seen him before?”
“No.”
“Did she say who he was?”
“No.”
“Was he a friend or a client?”
“I don’t know. They seemed to be getting along fine together. I’ve never known her to bring a client here before.”
“So he could have been a friend?”
“I don’t know, Lieutenant. She didn’t introduce him to me, and I think she would have if he was a friend. I just don’t know.”
“Did he look like a guy who’d stab a girl with an ice-pick?”
Darcy shook his head.
“He certainly didn’t. I liked the look of him.”
“Maybe,” Adams said, grimacing, “but it points to him. He was seen leaving her apartment about the time she died. But why should he kill her? What was she like, Sam? Would she try to blackmail a guy?”
“No.” Darcy was emphatic. “She wasn’t that kind of a girl at all, Lieutenant. Maybe she did g
o off the rails, but not to that extent. Blackmail is out.”
Adams lifted his shoulders.
“Then why did he kill her? Think he was a nut?”
“He didn’t look one. You can usually tell them. I was surprised to see him with Fay. He didn’t look the type to be with her.”
Adams brooded for a long moment.
“You’ve known Fay for some time, haven’t you?”
“I’ve known her for about four years.”
“Got any ideas who killed her if this guy didn’t?”
Darcy shifted in his chair. He reached for his whisky, drank a little of it and sat back, nursing the glass in his enormous black hand.
“I wouldn’t say this to anyone, Lieutenant, but since you’ve asked me, I have an idea,” he said slowly. “It could be a wrong one.”
“Never mind how wrong it is,” Adams said. “What is it?”
“About a year ago, Fay and Johnny Dorman were always around together. He found out she was on the racket, and he beat her up. I caught him at it and stopped him. He might have killed her if I hadn’t come along. He was in a pretty bad state. I had all I could do to handle him. I got his sister to come over. Fay was badly damaged. He had beaten her with a poker.
Johnny’s sister got him into a home. He was there for about a year. He came out yesterday, cured. A guy I know saw him at the Paradise Club last night. He overheard Johnny asking Louie where he could find Fay. I thought maybe he was going to start trouble. I called her apartment, but couldn’t get an answer.” He looked hard at Adams. “It’s my bet Johnny found her.”
Adams sat motionless, staring down at his hands.
Johnny Dorman! He remembered him well: a fair, slim, good-looking boy who used to haunt the pool rooms on 66m Street.
“Did you tell Donovan this?”
Darcy shook his head.
“He didn’t ask me for ideas.”
Adams rubbed his jaw.
“Dorman: why, yes, that makes sense. Okay, I’ll have him picked up. No harm in finding out where he was at the time of her death.”
“You may not know it, Lieutenant,” Darcy said quietly, “but Dorman’s sister is going to marry Sean O’Brien.”
Adams stubbed out his cigarette. His face remained expressionless.
“I didn’t know.” He stood up. “That could make the set-up tricky. Thanks for the information. Keep this close to your chest. I don’t want anyone to know.”
“No one will,” Darcy said. “The guy who told me and Louie are the only two who know besides you and me, and I can take care of them.”
Adams began to move slowly about the room.
“This is going to be damned tricky,” he said. “If O’Brien finds out I want to talk to Johnny I could get blocked off. You don’t know where Johnny is, do you?”
Darcy shook his head.
“Any ideas?”
“He might be holed up with his sister. She thought a lot of him in the old days.”
Adams grimaced.
“That makes it worse. Yeah, he could be with her. Can you check for me, Sam? I’ll have to keep out of sight on this. Will you see if you can find him for me?”
Darcy hesitated.
“It’ll pay dividends,” Adams went on, watching him. “I’m in with Burt. I’ll see you don’t do it for nothing.”
“Okay,” Darcy said. “I’ll pass the word around. I can’t promise anything. But don’t get the wrong idea, Lieutenant. He probably never went near Fay last night.”
“Oh, sure. All I want is ten minutes with him. Find him fast, Sam. This is urgent.”
Once more out in the drenching rain, Adams walked down the alley to his car. He got in and lit a cigarette. He sat staring emptily at the lighted dashboard, his brain busy.
So Dorman’s sister was going to marry O’Brien. If Dorman had killed Fay, O’Brien could be in a hell of a spot.
Adams inhaled smoke deeply, and let it drift down his thin nostrils.
There were two ways of playing this hand, he thought. There was the long-term or the short-term policy. He could get in with O’Brien if he went to him, but it would be better to be patient and go to Burt. Before he could do either of them he had to prove Johnny Dorman did it.
He trod on the starter and the engine woke into life.
This could be big enough not only to unseat Motley, it’s big enough to unseat O’Brien, he thought. This is the chance I’ve been waiting for, and brother! I’ve got to handle it right!
He engaged gear and drove fast to headquarters.
CHAPTER IV
I
Sean O’Brien drove his big Cadillac along a lonely stretch of the river bank. The dirt road was pot-holed and dusty. No traffic came that way since the canning factory had closed down. The few remaining sheds and the broken-down jetty made a convenient place to leave a car and board the motorboat out to Tux’s cruiser.
He drove his car into the rickety lean-to shed, cut the engine and got out of the car. He walked down to the jetty where the motorboat was waiting.
Willow Point, an ancient, rusty, eighty-foot cruiser, lay at anchor, half a mile from the mud flats. Ostensibly used by Tux to fish from when he happened to be in the mood for fishing, it also provided a convenient and safe hide-out for any of Tux’s friends who were in trouble.
O’Brien climbed into the motorboat, nodded to the mulatto who sat in the stern and settled himself into the bucket seat.
The mulatto cast off, shoved the nose of the boat clear of the jetty, men started the engine and headed across the muddy estuary towards Willow Point.
Tux was leaning on the rail as the motorboat came alongside. He was thick-set, immensely powerful and swarthy. His washed-out blue eyes moved continuously and restlessly. His hard, brutal face was fleshy, and he badly needed a shave. He wore an open-necked black shirt, dirty white trousers and a yachting cap set jauntily over his right eye.
He was the only survivor of O’Brien’s drug-trafficking days: a dangerous man with a knife or a gun. O’Brien found him invaluable. He paid him well, and he had never known Tux to fall down on any job, no matter how hard or dangerous.
Tux lifted a languid finger to his cap as O’Brien climbed on board.
“Where is he?” O’Brien asked.
“Below,” Tux told him, and jerked his thumb to the companion ladder. Seated on an empty box, guarding the way down, was a big negro, naked to the waist, who grinned sheepishly at O’Brien, then got up and moved away from the door.
“What happened?” O’Brien asked.
“A little trouble,” Tux returned indifferently. He had spent all his life dealing with trouble. “I had to tap him, but we got away without being seen. He tried to get rough as we were bringing him over, so Solly had to tap him again.”
“Is he hurt?” O’Brien said sharply.
“Just a tap,” Tux said, shrugging. He was an expert at tapping people. He knew just where and how hard to hit them. “Nothing to it. Want to talk to him, boss?”
“Yes.”
Tux led the way below deck, along a passage to a cabin. He took a key from his pocket, unlocked the door and shoved it open. He walked in and O’Brien followed him.
Johnny Dorman lay on the bunk, one long leg hanging over the side. He opened his eyes as O’Brien came to stand at his side.
O’Brien looked at him, his face expressionless.
Johnny was uncannily like his sister, but without her strength of character. He had the same well-shaped nose and the green eyes, and his thick hair was the same shade as Gilda’s.
A good-looking weakling, O’Brien thought. My luck she has to have a punk like this for a brother.
“Hello, Johnny,” he said.
Johnny didn’t move. He stared up at O’Brien, his green eyes watchful.
“What’s the idea, Sean?” he asked. “Gilda’s going to love this when I tell her.”
O’Brien pulled up a straight-back chair and sat down. He waved to Tux, who went out, shutting the door behind hi
m. Then he took out a gold cigarette-case and offered it to Johnny.
After a moment’s hesitation, Johnny took a cigarette and accepted a light.
“We won’t talk about Gilda just yet,” O’Brien said, “We’ll talk about you. How are you, Johnny?”
“Before that nigger knocked me around I was fine,” Johnny said. “You don’t imagine you’re going to get away with this, do you?”
“I get away with most things,” O’Brien returned. “I hear the doctors have given you a clean bill of health.”
“So what? They would have given it to me before only they wanted to make as much out of me as they could,” Johnny said with a sneer. “They’re all alike. All they think about is what they can get out of me.”
“I was under the impression your sister was paying the bills,” O’Brien said quietly. “Nice of you to show so much interest.”
Johnny laughed.
“That cat won’t jump,” he added. “Gilda’s got all the money she wants at the moment; I haven’t. If she had to go into a nuthouse, I’d take care of her. Besides, she’s going to marry you, isn’t she? She’ll have millions. It’s not too much to expect her to pay my doctor’s bills, is it?”
O’Brien had to make an effort to control his temper.
“You’re a nasty little rat, aren’t you, Johnny?” he said. “I’m damned glad you’re not my brother.”
“But I’m going to be your brother-in-law,” Johnny jeered. “That is if Gilda will take you after what you’ve done to me. You must have been crazy to pull a stunt like this, but maybe I-won’t say anything about it. It’ll cost you ten grand for me to keep my mouth shut. I don’t suppose you’ll find any trouble in raising ten grand, will you?”
“No trouble at all,” O’Brien said mildly. “But you’re not getting anything out of me. I’m surprised you haven’t asked why you’re here.”
Into the deep green eyes came an uneasy expression.
“Well, okay: why am I here?”
“Obviously because the cure hasn’t worked. You are still a mental case, Johnny.”
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