The stubborn old fool, Carmody was thinking, as he got ready to leave. He’d been sure he had a strangle hold on happiness and eternal bliss. Everything was settled, all problems were solved in advance by his trust in God.
I’d like to see him handle this problem, he thought bitterly. The old man would tell Eddie not to worry, to make a novena and do what he thought was right. That would be great except for the fact that Ackerman and Beaumonte didn’t believe in novenas. Prayers were a waste of breath in their league. The old man couldn’t save Eddie with a lifetime on his knees. But I’ll save him, Carmody thought. Without prayers. That’s my kind of work.
The Empire was a quiet, respectable apartment hotel in the Northeast section of the city. Carmody got there at two-thirty, parked on the dark, tree-lined street and walked into the tiled lobby. He found her name printed in ink on a white card and rang the bell. There was a speaking tube beside the row of cards. She answered the third ring.
“Yes? Who is it?”
“This is Mike Carmody. I want to see you.”
She hesitated a moment, then said coldly, “It’s a bit late, don’t you think?”
“Wait a minute. What’s wrong with a friendly chat?”
“You don’t see anything wrong with coming up here at two-thirty in the morning?”
“People will talk, eh?” he said dryly. “Well, that’s okay. I don’t mind.”
“Please, Mike, you’re dead wrong about me,” she said, her voice changing.
“Save all that,” he said. “This concerns Eddie. Now press the buzzer before I get mad.”
“Is this how you get what you want?” she said. “By kicking people around?”
“Press that buzzer,” Carmody said. “I’m not kidding, bright eyes. Your virtue, such as it is, won’t get a workout Open up, damn it.”
There was a short pause. Then the lock clicked sharply. Smiling slightly, he opened the door and walked down a short carpeted hallway to the elevator.
She was waiting for him at the doorway of her apartment, her small head lifted defiantly. She wore a blue silk robe and a ribbon held her hair back from the slim line of her throat. Without make-up her face was pale, but her steady blue eyes were bright and unafraid.
Carmody walked toward her, still smiling slightly. She would play this on a very high level, he guessed. All poise and dignity. She created an illusion of strength and dignity, but Carmody wasn’t impressed. He had worked too long as a cop to be impressed by externals. Underneath that thin crust of confidence he knew there was nothing but guilt. What else could there be?
Smiling down at her, he said, “Thanks for letting me come up.”
“I had no choice,” she said shortly.
“That’s a dull way to look at it.”
She turned into her apartment and he followed her and tossed his hat into a chair. The living room was impersonal but comfortable; a TV set stood in one corner and a studio couch, made up now with sheets and blankets, was pulled out a few inches from the opposite wall. There were chairs, lamps, a coffee table with copies of Variety and Billboard on it, and a tall breakfront in which he saw shelves of dishes.
“Cosy,” he said, nodding.
“You said you wanted to talk about Eddie.”
“We’ll get to him in a minute.”
She shrugged lightly. “We’ll do it your way, of course.”
“That’s right,” he said.
“It’s been a long day,” she said. Her expression changed then, relieved by a tentative little smile. “Don’t you have any soft spots? I’d be grateful if you’d make this brief and let me go to bed.” She tilted her small head to one side. “How about it, Mike?”
“I’m covered with soft spots,” Carmody said. “Sit down and be comfortable. This won’t take long.”
She moved to a chair and sat down slowly. The limp wasn’t obvious; it was only suggested by the careful way she held her body — as if she were crossing a floor on which she had once taken a bad fall.
“What do you want?” she asked him.
Carmody sat down on a footstool in front of her, his big hands only a few inches from the folds of her robe. “Don’t you want to guess?” he said.
“I expected you to be subtle about it,” she said evenly, but a touch of color had come into her cheeks. “Flowers maybe, and a few kind words. But you’ve made this pretty cheap. Was that what you wanted?” Then she shook her head quickly and tried to soften his eyes with a smile. “You’re wrong about me, Mike. What do I have to do to prove it?”
“Relax,” Carmody said. “I’m here about Eddie. Listen now: he had the bad luck to identify a murderer last month, and the guy is important. Has he told you anything about this?”
“No.”
“Well, Eddie stumbled on a shooting. The murderer got away, but was picked up on his description. At the trial next month Eddie can send him to the chair. But that can’t happen. Eddie’s got to refuse to make the identification. Unless he agrees to that he’s in bad trouble. Do you understand this?”
“Yes, I think so,” she said slowly. The color had receded from her cheeks. “It’s always the same, isn’t it? Important people can’t be bothered going to jail.” She studied him with a fresh awareness. “And you’re a friend of the important people?”
“One of their best friends,” Carmody said. “But Eddie’s my brother and I don’t want him hurt. That’s why I need your help.”
“What can I do?”
“To start with, answer my questions. I know he’s crazy about you. But how do you feel about him?”
“I like him a lot. He’s good-natured, gentle, he’s straight and dependable, and—”
“Okay, okay,” Carmody said, cutting across her words impatiently. “I don’t want a litany. Do you love the guy?”
“Not yet.”
Carmody looked at her in silence, trying to keep a check on his temper. Who in hell was she to dilly-dally with his brother? To play the shy maiden with an honest guy like Eddie?
“What’re you waiting for?” he asked her coldly. “Butterflies in your stomach and stars in your eyes?”
“What right have you got to be sarcastic about it?” she said, leaning forward tensely. “It’s none of your business. You don’t have any authority to barge in here and grill me about Eddie. I’m not a suspect in one of your cases.”
“Now listen to me, bright eyes,” Carmody said, standing suddenly, and forcing her back into the chair with the threat of his size and power. “I know who you are and what league you played in. As Eddie’s brother that gives me plenty of rights.” Staring down at her he saw the fear in her eyes, the guilt that lay beneath her crust of angry innocence.
“You were Danny Nimo’s girl, right?” he said coldly.
“That’s right.”
“That’s right. Is that all you’ve got to say?”
“What else is there to say?”
“Where’s the rest of it? Didn’t he hold the mortgage on the family estate? Wasn’t he trying to lure your sister into the white slave racket? Where’s the cute story of how you got mixed up with him?”
“There’s no cute story,” she said in a low voice. “No estate, no lily-pure sister. I liked him, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” Carmody felt a thrust of anger snap his control. He caught her thin arms and jerked her to a standing position. “You had to have a reason,” he said, his voice rising dangerously. “What was it?”
“Let me go. Take your hands off me,” she cried, struggling impotently against the iron strength in his hands.
“Did you tell that to Danny Nimo? Did you tell him to take his hands off you?”
She was beginning to cry, her breath coming in rapid gasps. “Damn you, damn you,” she sobbed. “Why are you doing this to me?” Carmody shifted his grip and held her effortlessly against him with one arm. “Cut it out, bright eyes,” he said. “There’s no need for a big act. I know you, baby, we’re the same kind of people, the same kind of dirt.” Wi
th his free hand he forced her head back until their eyes met and held in a straining silence. “Now look,” he said softly, “I’m going to use you to save Eddie. You’ll do what I say, understand?”
“Let me go,” she whispered.
“When you understand me, bright eyes.” He studied her pale, frightened face, hating her pretence of maidenly fear and virtue. She acted as if his touch would contaminate her innocence. What gave her the right to that pose? He kissed her then deliberately and cruelly, forcing his mouth over hers and pulling her slim struggling body against his chest. For a moment he held her that way, locked tight against his big hard frame, knowing nothing but violence and anger and bitterness. And then, slowly, reluctantly, there was something else; her lips parted under his and the anger in him was replaced by a wild urgency. Carmody fought against its overwhelming demand and pushed her roughly away from him. They stared at each other, their breathing loud and rapid in the silence. “Does that prove it, bright eyes?” he said thickly. “Does that prove we’re the same kind of people?”
She twisted her arms free and began to pound her small fists against his chest. “You can’t say that, you can’t say that,” she cried at him.
Carmody took her arms and put her down in the chair. “Take it easy,” he said, still breathing hard. “It’s a little late to start fighting for your honor.”
She turned away, avoiding his eyes, and struck the arm of the chair with the flat of her hand. “You pig, you animal,” she said in a trembling voice. Tears started in her eyes and ran down her pale cheeks. “Why did you do this? Have I ever hurt you? Am I so dirty you think you can wipe your feet on me?”
“Take it easy,” he said again, running both hands through his hair. Her tears made him angry and uncomfortable. He hadn’t meant to hurt her; in spite of his deep cynicism about people, he had held on to an old-fashioned idea that women should be treated gently. He waited until she got herself under control. Then he said, “You think I’m a heel. Well, okay. But if I’m rough it’s because this is no Maypole dance we’re in.” He realized that he was apologizing obliquely to her and this puzzled him. “Look, I don’t care if you and Eddie get married,” he said. “That’s none of my business. Maybe it will work out great. But you can’t marry a body in a morgue.”
“Will they kill him? Are they that important?”
“Yes, they’re that important,” he said. “So let’s get serious. Supposing you told Eddie you needed money, a lot of it. Would he try to get it for you?”
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head slowly.
“We may have to find out,” he said. Glancing down at her slim legs, Carmody lit a cigarette and frowned thoughtfully. Then he said, “Supposing you told him you needed eight or ten thousand dollars for an operation? A spinal operation, or a series of them, to keep you out of a wheel chair. It ties in with your accident logically enough. How about it? Would he try to raise the dough for you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know,” she said. “But I couldn’t tell him that. I couldn’t ask him to turn himself into a liar and a thief.”
Carmody took a long drag on his cigarette, and watched her with narrowed eyes. “We can all do things we think we can’t,” he said quietly. “Does he know about Nimo?” When she refused to meet his eyes, he said, “I didn’t think so. Would you like him to find out about that? And what happened here tonight?”
She shook her head wearily. “Don’t tell him about that. He thinks everything of you. And of me. No, don’t tell him, Mike.”
“We’ve made a deal then,” Carmody said. “I’ll see him tomorrow and make one more pitch at him. If I can’t wake him up, then it’s your turn. You’ll have to put the pressure on him for money. And the only way he can get it is by co-operating with me.”
“He won’t do it,” she said. “He’s too straight to do it.”
Carmody looked at her appraisingly. “Don’t worry about that. He can bend a little to keep you out of a wheel chair. Will you be here tomorrow afternoon?”
“I can be.”
“I’ll call you.” Carmody paused to light a cigarette. “You’ve got everything straight now?”
“Yes. Won’t you go?” she said in a low voice. “Won’t you please leave me alone?”
“Okay, okay, I’m going,” Carmody said. He pulled the door shut behind him and strode along the corridor to the elevator. A noise stopped him; he turned, listening again for the sound. It had been a small helpless cry, distinct and lonely, like that of someone in pain. But the silence of the building settled around him and he heard nothing but his own even breathing and the beat of his heart.
4
The phone woke Carmody the next morning at nine-thirty, it was Lieutenant Wilson. “What happened to you last night?” he demanded.
Carmody raised himself on one elbow, completely alert; Wilson’s tone warned him of trouble. “I told you, I was working on that Fairmount Park murder.”
“Did you make any progress?”
“I’ve got a lead.” Carmody frowned slightly; he didn’t like lying to Wilson. They had gone through the police academy together and had been good friends for several years. Wilson was a straight, efficient cop, a family man with kids in school and a home in the new development at Spring Hill. He was everything that citizens expected their police officers to be, intelligent, fair and honest. Carmody wondered occasionally why Wilson still liked him; they were on opposite sides of the fence, and Wilson normally had no use for cops who drifted toward the easy buck.
“You got a lead, eh?” Wilson said. “Well, supposing you get in here and tell me about it. I’ll give it to someone to run down.”
“What’s the big hurry?”
“Damn it, Mike, do I have to send you an engraved invitation when I want to talk to you? Get in here.”
“Okay,” Carmody said, glancing at the alarm clock. He intended to see Eddie as soon as possible, and then, if necessary, Karen. “I’ll be in at four o’clock,” he said. “That’s when my shift goes on.”
“I want to see you now, right away,” Wilson said.
“Okay, okay,” Carmody said. He wasn’t going in so there was no point in arguing about it. “How did that Wagner Hotel job turn out?”
“You struck gold, you lucky ape,” Wilson said in an easier voice. “It was the bellhop, Ernie. Seems he brought a bottle up and found both Degget and the girl out cold. He was going through Degget’s wallet when the girl woke and began to yell copper. He tried to talk her into a split, but she was too drunk to be sensible. Anyway, he got scared and shot her. He’s put it all down on paper, so that winds that one up.”
“The poor damn fool,” Carmody said. “Why did he shoot her? You’d think a bellhop, of all people, would be smart enough to keep away from the big rap.”
“He’s not smart,” Wilson said. “He’s been in and out of trouble since he was a kid.”
“This will be his last then,” Carmody said. “How about the girl?”
“We got in touch with her mother. She’s flying in to claim the body.”
“It’s a senseless mess all around,” Carmody said. He glanced at his watch. “Well, get my name right for the papers.”
“You’re all right when you work at it,” Wilson said. “I’ll see you pretty soon, eh?”
“Sure.” Carmody ordered his breakfast sent up, then showered, shaved and dressed. Eddie had worked twelve to eight and would still be asleep. Carmody decided to give him a few hours; he might be in a better mood if he had some rest. After coffee and orange juice he left his suite and drove across the city to the Midtown Club where he played three furious games of handball with a trainer. It was a punishing workout; the trainer had once been a semifinalist in the Nationals and he gave nothing away. Carmody was satisfied to win one of the three games and make a close fight of the other two. He baked out in the steam room afterwards and took an alcohol rub. Sitting in the dressing room later, a towel across his wide shoulders, he looked critically at himself in t
he mirror, noting the flat tight muscles of his stomach and the deep powerful arch of his chest. In good shape, he thought. The handball hadn’t even winded him. Carmody’s own strength and stamina had always surprised him slightly; his body simply ran on and on, meeting any demand he put on it, always more than equal to the occasion.
That’s one thing I owe the old man, he thought; the indestructible constitution.
It was twelve-thirty when he left the club. He stopped at the Bervoort for cold roast beef with salad, then drank a bottle of cold beer and lit his first cigarette of the day. Relaxed and at ease, he sat for a few minutes at the table, savoring the fragrant smoke and the clean, toned-up feeling of his body.
Now he was ready for Eddie. This time he was sure of himself, charged with hard confidence.
The day was superb, clear and bright with sun. Carmody put the top of the convertible down before starting for the Northeast. He took the Parkway Drive, following the shining bend of the river, and enjoying the clean feel of the wind and sun against his face. Turning off at Summitt Road, he wound into the Northeast, driving through quiet residential streets where children played on the lawns, with their mothers coming to the porches occasionally to see that they weren’t in trouble. This was Carmody’s background; he had lived in this neighborhood until he was twenty-seven, increasingly bored by the middle-class monotony of the people, increasingly annoyed by the sharp but worried eye the old man kept on him. Our break was inevitable, he thought, turning into Eddie’s block. We just split on the big things. But why couldn’t people be reasonable about these disagreements? The old man was a fool, not because of what he believed but because he was so blindly insistent that he was right. You could argue with him up to a point; but beyond that there was no sympathy or compromise. Well, it’s all over and done with now, Carmody thought, as he went up the wooden stairs of the old frame house and banged the old-fashioned brass knocker.
Rogue Cop Page 5
