by Jack Lynch
“The Army’s got things back under control. I think we’ve broken the back of this thing.”
“That’s good news. How does your own situation look?”
“Not particularly good. I have to fly up to the capitol tomorrow morning.”
“Maybe I can brighten things some for you. I have some information about Carl Slide and the bank. You should talk to one of the vice presidents, a man named Morton. He’s in the hospital. He’s one of the people who were shot today. He probably could give you some information that might make you look pretty good.”
“Are you going to just dangle it like a chunk of meat in front of a dog, or are you going to tell me what it is?”
“I’ll tell you, but in return I need a favor done. The sort of favor you would have to do with the door closed, without a lot of witnesses standing around.”
“Tell me about it.”
I told him about Slide, the girl and Lou and Soft Kenny. I particularly told him about Soft Kenny. Most cops have this thing about people who go around hurting children. Merle Coffey was no different.
“I just want to know where they’re at. Slide knows, but he won’t tell.”
“I’ll see that he tells me.”
“I need it fast. He’s at home.”
“I’ll drive out there right away. Tell me about this other thing.”
I told Coffey what Morton suspected about stolen securities. Coffey agreed it would make an interesting story when he went up to the state capitol in the morning. I gave him my home telephone number and asked him to call me there after he’d visited Slide. He said he would.
When I turned from the phone I found I was the only one still in the room. I went up the hall. Cathy was at the front door. “Where’s Bobbie?”
“She just ran out. Drove off in a Porsche.”
I went back and turned off lights and closed up the house. On the way over to Sausalito I told Cathy how things stood.
“So I can’t take the time to check you into the Pimsler right now. You can crash at my place for the night. I’ll be out working.”
She murmured something about the sort of holiday she’d always wanted to spend in San Francisco.
She found my apartment “quaint.” She fiddled around with the television set while I went into the bathroom for a fast shower and changed into some clothes Armando hadn’t been getting sick all over. When I came back out Cathy had changed from her hospital whites into a pair of Levis and a black turtleneck top. She had a nice figure. I started to tell her about it when Merle Coffey phoned.
“I got what you wanted.”
“Good.”
“I hope so. It wasn’t easy. He’s in the hospital now having his jaw wired back together. At least Lou and Kenny are pretty close to you. They’re holed up in a place belonging to Lou’s brother in the Oakland hills. The address is 1247 Hatten Avenue. The brother and his wife are out of town. I’ve already called the Oakland police and told them roughly what was going on. I figured the faster we got somebody up there the better, and they’d probably get there quicker than you could.”
“I appreciate that, Chief. Good luck on tomorrow.”
“I’m not so worried now. I think a talk with Morton will make quite a difference.”
I still had the .32 automatic Ma Leary had given me, but I wanted a little more whop than that would give. I unlocked the bottom drawer of my desk and got out the first handgun I’d ever bought, back before I even knew I’d be going into this sort of business. It was an old .38 caliber Colt Army revolver, the basic 1892 model that had been modified two years later. It was an old veteran of the Spanish–American War and the Philippine Insurrection, but I kept it cleaned and oiled and it worked just fine.
Cathy asked to go with me. “I could help. If the little girl is hurt.”
“You’re right enough about that. She might need a woman. But only on the condition that you do exactly what I tell you. I don’t want to have to worry about the both of you.”
It was nearly midnight. I went north, curved around by San Quentin and sped across the Richmond–San Rafael bridge. The house we found was in a remote section up near one of the regional parks behind Oakland. It was a large, two-story frame structure with slope-roofed dormers caging upstairs windows. There was a late model Cadillac with Nevada plates parked at the curb in front. Across the street were a couple of Oakland police cars. One was empty. Inside the other an officer was talking on the radio. Another cop lounged against the side with his arms folded. I parked a ways in front of the Cadillac and went over to the officer leaning against the patrol car. I showed him my ID and explained my interest.
“What’s happening?”
“Not much. We went to the door and a guy answered. Dark complexion, thirty-five years old, five feet ten or eleven.”
“His name’s Lou.”
“He wouldn’t tell us that. He wouldn’t tell us anything. He said we must have gotten a crank call. He said there was no little girl there. People downtown are trying to find a judge who’ll give us a search warrant on the basis of the phone call from Sand Valley. It’s not easy. But at least we figure if there is a little girl in there, they won’t do anything to her while we’re camping on their doorstep. We have another man around back to see that nobody leaves that way. Things have been very quiet.”
“When did you get here?”
“About twenty minutes ago.”
“I’d like to look around the place. What’s the name of your man in back?”
“Spence. Tell him Carter said it was okay.”
“Thanks.” I circled the house. On one side was a paved driveway leading back to a closed and padlocked garage. On the other was a narrow strip of lawn and a hedge. Window shades were drawn shut throughout the house. There were lights on downstairs and in one room on the second floor.
Spence was keeping watch from alongside the garage. The back of the house was dark. I explained things and asked what he’d seen so far.
“I came back here before Carter and Bullock went to the front door. Carter came back a couple minutes later to tell me they’d been denied entrance. A little after that someone peered out from that window up there,” he said, pointing. “So they know we’re around the neighborhood.”
“Have you heard anything from inside?”
“Nothing.”
I went back around to the front and crossed the street to the officer named Carter. “Any luck on the warrant?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay. Let me tell you what I think. I think the girl is in there, and while you’re right about their not doing anything to her while you’re here, there’s no way of telling what might have gone on before you arrived. One of the men inside is very psychotic about girls. So whatever might have gone on, I think we ought to get her out of there as soon as possible. The young woman waiting in my car over there is a nurse.”
“Sounds fine with me, but legally…”
“Legally, if you hear a loud ruckus and gunfire and stuff going on inside, you have a right to investigate, right?”
“I think it’s a judgment call we could make.”
“Okay. Then I’ll ask Spence to join you here. That way he won’t be a witness to any illegal entry. I have a big, noisy revolver in my car. I’ll go through the back door. They probably have the girl upstairs. I’ll make a lot of noise and you guys can come through the front.”
“It sounds a little chancy. For you.”
“I know, but I think time is important.”
“Okay, but I’ll create a diversion. Make it easier for you to slip inside.”
“How?”
“I’ll get the guy to move his car. I’ll tell him there is an ordinance banning overnight street parking, and that he’ll have to move the Caddy or we’ll have it towed in.”
“What if the two guys just come out, lock up and drive away?”
“We’ll follow and see somehow that they drive right back.”
“Okay. I’ll wait until I hear th
e car moving.”
I went over to get the Army Colt.
“What is it?” Cathy asked.
“No big deal. I’m just going to make some noises to give the cops an excuse to move in. Just wait here. It’ll be all over soon.”
I went back around behind the house and told Spence what was happening. He looked at me as if I might be a little bit loopy, but went on around to the street. I crept up onto the back porch. The door had a glass pane in it. There was activity around at the front of the house. Somebody was cursing about having to move a car. The door slammed. A few seconds later the Caddy engine started and there was some squealing of rubber on pavement and the car came up the driveway. I wrapped my coat around the gun barrel and poked it through the glass pane.
It made a nice hole. I reached in and undid the latch and went inside quietly. I was in the kitchen. A swinging door from the kitchen led to a carpeted hallway that ran to the front of the house. I walked down it half on tiptoes. At the end of the hallway was the front door and a stairway going up. Off to one side, in the front room, Soft Kenny was peeking out at the edge of the curtain. I held my breath and started up the stairs very quietly. From the upper landing I went to the room at the back with light coming from beneath the door, listened a moment and went on in.
Beverly Jean was sitting on the edge of a bed with her eyes about the size of silver dollars. Her hands and ankles were bound and there was a gag across her mouth. She wore only her underpanties and she was shivering. I made a shushing noise with one finger in front of my lips, took out a pocket knife and cut the cords. She was starting to shake.
“Take it easy, honey,” I whispered. “You’re going to be all right. I’m the man who came to visit you last Sunday, remember?”
She nodded vigorously. I worked on her as gently as I could. “Did they hurt you?”
She shook her head no. I removed the gag and winced. Lipstick was smudged across her mouth.
“I had to kiss one of them a lot,” she said quietly. “He’s kind of strange.”
“I know. Now listen, I want you to be a big, brave girl, and go sit outside on the roof for a few minutes. That way you won’t be hurt. There are policemen outside, and they’ll come help us soon.”
I grabbed a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her. She still was shaking, but there was no helping that. I raised the window. It had a broken sash cord and wouldn’t stay up by itself. I held it as high as it would go and put one leg outside. There wasn’t going to be room for Beverly Jean to come through while I was there, so I climbed all the way out onto the roof. My grasp slipped and the window crashed down. I signaled quickly for Beverly Jean to raise it again. She got it started and once I could get my hand under its edge I jerked it back up, held it there and helped the girl out and up onto the top of the dormer.
“Now just sit there,” I told her. “Somebody will get you in a few minutes.”
I went back through the window, turned out the light and opened the door. Lou and Soft Kenny had heard the window fall. They were coming up the stairs. They both had guns out. I shot into the stairs in front of them. It made enough noise to lift the roof. I ducked back into the bedroom and tried to find the lock. The door didn’t have one. I heard cops pounding on the front door. The bed wasn’t big enough to crawl under. I decided the safest place would be out on the roof with Beverly Jean. I raised the window and had one leg and my head through when Lou and Kenny came crashing through the door and began shooting. I shot back and tried to roll out the window, but it dropped and caught one knee. I felt searing streaks on my legs, but just kept on rolling, only when I hit the roof my legs wouldn’t work right for me any longer. I heard the girl scream above me as I just kept rolling. Then I hit the ground and nothing mattered anymore.
TWENTY-THREE
I came to in my Sausalito apartment. I was in the front room, on the sofa bed somebody had made up. It was daylight outside. My thighs hurt. And my butt. The back of my head felt as if someone had whacked it with a baseball bat. Small pillows were propped beneath my calves and thick bandages swathed my upper legs. Somebody had been burning incense. There was a small mound of white ash in a dish on the countertop between me and the kitchen. Somebody had been into my stash of grass. That also was on the counter.
Cathy Carson came out of the bathroom, brushing her hair. “Hello, there,” she said. “Welcome back.”
She looked great, in tan slacks and matching shirt with a black scarf around her throat.
“What day is it?”
“Thursday. All the heroics were last night. You were lucky you didn’t land on your head.”
“It feels like I did.”
“At least it wasn’t the first part of you to hit the ground. There’s just a slight concussion. At first everybody thought you had a bad fracture, but then it occurred to me you were probably just tired. You put in a pretty sensational day yesterday.”
“How’s Beverly Jean?”
“She’s okay.”
Cathy had set up a card table beside the sofa bed, and now began carrying stuff to it from the kitchen. There was a filled ice bucket, then she brought in bottles from my liquor cabinet.
“The girl’s still a little frightened. I don’t think she quite knows what was going on with that Kenny person. By the time she’s old enough to realize things, maybe the sharp edges of it will have blurred.”
“How many times was I shot?”
“Four. You were very lucky. No chipped bones or damaged arteries. They got you once where you sit down and the rest hit your thighs. They must have been aiming for your you-know-what.”
“I think it was just the way I exposed trying to get out the window. Did I hit them?”
“You slightly wounded the one called Lou. You tore up the stomach of the other one pretty badly. They’re not sure yet how he’ll do. Not that it matters. One of the Oakland officers phoned here a while ago to let you know a fingerprint check showed those two were wanted in four different states for various nasty things. They’re very happy to have them in custody.”
“Any other calls?”
“Several.” As she talked, she did more fussing around. She brought over the phone with the long extension cord from the counter, transferred the makings for funny cigarettes to within my reach and supplied me with sandwich makings. She had annointed herself with a scent that would charm anybody.
“Mr. Barker called. He’s been released from the hospital, and is properly appreciative. He said for you to send him a bill.”
I snorted. “He needn’t worry. Boy, will I send him a bill.”
“And about an hour ago Merle Coffey phoned. He said it looks as if he’ll keep his job. He also said that Bobbie was seen in Sand Valley this morning. She was at the Sky Lodge looking for Carl Slide. When Slide heard about that he got up from his hospital bed and left town. And the state banking commissioner has ordered a temporary closure of the bank while some things are looked into there. You really made some waves.”
I grunted and started to swing out of bed. The pain nearly paralyzed me. I fell back.
“What was that all about?” Cathy asked.
“I want to get up.”
“No way. Not for a few days. Why do you think I’m setting you up like this? I even bought you a bedpan. It’s on the floor beside you. Even when you’re able to get up you’ll probably have to use crutches for a while and walk with your legs spread like a cowboy who’s spent too long on the trail. The only reason they let me ambulance you home from the hospital was because I’m a registered nurse and I told them I would pamper you for a few days. You can’t move much and you won’t be conceiving any babies for a while.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You’re telling me? ‘Come with me to San Francisco,’ he said. ‘For some sun at Stinson beach. Lingering cocktail hours. A little cha-cha-cha in the Venetian Room.’ ”
“Maybe I’ll heal fast. Especially if you pamper me.”
“I’m not going to pamper an
ybody. I came to San Francisco to have a good time, and by God, I’m going to have a good time.”
She went back to the kitchen, picked up my car keys from the table and dropped them into her purse. “I’ll be using your car while I’m here.”
“I guess you will. Have a swell time.”
“I intend to. I’ll check in on you tomorrow or the next day.”
“You’re not even coming home at night?”
“Of course not. I’m going to check into the Pimsler. Have a good rest.”
She went out the door and a minute later I heard my car start and she drove off. I lay there for a while feeling sorry for myself. Then I poured me some bourbon, and then some more, and then I called down to the No Name and asked if there were any chess or gin rummy players around. There weren’t right then, but a little later on a couple of local guys named Milton and Scrubbs came by and we played cards and got a little drunk into the evening, and after they left I watched some television then turned out the light and went back to sleep.
I don’t know what time it was, in the middle of the night, I guess. I never fully woke up. But I had a phone call from Bobbie. She wanted to know what had happened after she left. I told her. I also told her I’d heard that she’d been seen in Sand Valley, and was asking about Slide.
“Yes, but I gave that up, finally. It’s not worth it anymore. I’m all burned out inside.”
“That’s kind of good. I wouldn’t want you to do anything that could be pinned on you. Where are you now?”
“Los Angeles. I’m going down to Mexico for a while. To lie on the beach and think about things. Do you hate me, Pete?”
“No, Bobbie, I don’t hate you. You made a fool of me, but I guess you figured you had your reasons.”
“I was very bitter over what happened to my father. I guess it made me a little irrational.”
“Irrational. Yeah, I guess that’s a good way to describe it.”
“But I’ve put that behind me now. When I think what could have happened to Beverly Jean…”
“If you really feel that way, Bobbie, there might be hope for you yet.”
“I think so too. The reason I had to call, Pete—the things I told you, I wasn’t really fooling that much. I mean, I used you some, but I felt something pretty real for you too. I’d like to try it again some day. When enough time has gone by. When I’m more sure of myself, and know I won’t hurt either one of us.”
