The Flower-Covered Corpse

by Michael Avallone

  She smirked at Crown and her castanet collection clicked.

  "You heard that, Toddy? Sounds just like one of those fifteen headshrinkers I saw in one year. Before I met Louis. He understood, he loved me. He wasn't a wise bastard like you, Ed, who thinks he knows all the answers."

  "Sorry. I don't know anything really. Back to Louis, please."

  "Since you're interested, I caught my old man in the sack with the upstairs maid. She was French. I was about fifteen at the time. It's hard to live in a house where you know and your old lady doesn't. So I cut out. I wasn't interested—but, hell. That's another story. The old boy died last year. The Big C. It's old news."

  I would have liked to tell her that misunderstanding daughters were too and that one slip from a pedestal doesn't count for a lifetime disgrace but I skipped it. I was more interested in Louis La Rosa's flight from the Temple Kreshna-Rukka.

  "Ten days ago. Friday," I reminded her.

  "Yeah. Louis suddenly talked to me about Life and Death and the Great Unknown. He threw in Karma, Nirvana and the whole book. And that's the last I saw of him. He walked out of the Temple and—well, it's in the afternoon papers. Ain't it?"

  I shook my head. "You're saying he dropped out of sight, taking nothing with him—and you know of no threat or bad business he might have been involved with—and that"s all?"

  "That's all, Ed. Over and out."

  Tod Crown murmured from the windows.

  "It was like the passing of the sun from the land. Just like that. He was here—and now he was gone."

  "Crap," I said.

  He shuddered at the insult and Truth Ruth raised herself on her angular elbows. The baubles, bangles and beads jangled angrily.

  "You really have a mouth on you, fuzz. Maybe we are being too friendly—"

  "Oh, I've got no complaints about this amiable chat we're having. Except you're both treating me like I just got my licence to listen. You want to hear me out before you throw me out for mocking the memory of the Great Man?"

  "Go ahead, Sister," Crown said softly. "Let him talk. He's nobody's fool."

  "Spit it out, Ed," she rasped. "Just remember you're talking about the man I love."

  I put my glass down and reached for a cigarette from a golden box on the table between us.

  "Cut it out. Don't fox me with patter. Like you did yesterday. You sounded like a psalm singer then and today you talk like a clip-joint hostess. Okay. I'll spell it out. Crap. C-R-A-P. And I'll tell you why. A. La Rosa is down at the morgue and you people love him so much nobody's gone down for a look or even put in a claim for the remains. That's enough love to so strange a man, isn't it? B. Augie French sent two goons to Memo Morgan's today asking him about ten pounds of heroin that seem to have been misplaced. Why did French do that? Because Memo was talking to me and Crown here in Downey's last night. Don't tell me that has nothing to do with Louis La Rosa or that you two birds, the closest to La Rosa in the flock, didn't know all his business and everything about him. I could go on for another hour. And if you two even dare to tell me you don't know who or what Augie French is I will spit. Right in your eyes before I take off. So what's it going to be? Straight talk or forked tongues like in those bad movie westerns?"

  I got results.

  That kind of talk always does.

  Sister Truth Ruth jerked the duelling pistol from her pocket and aimed it across the room at me. Tod Crown stirred at the french windows and spread the palms of his hands. Oddly, they were just as dark on the inside as the outside. That is unusual.

  I had beat Ruth to the draw. By about two seconds, because I was ready for a bum play. My gun cleared the holster in the fastest gun tradition.

  So there we sat, .45 to a duelling pistol and Tod Crown was lost in the middle. High and dry with no gun by the windows.

  "A word of advice," I said evenly. "Even if you fired first, Sister, this thing would go off. Ever see what a .45 slug can do to a face? Grand Canyon, lady. Just as big and just as empty. Think it over before you flip your wig."

  She hesitated. She had to. Her green eyes were staring into the bore of the .45. The duelling pistol lowered.

  "My, yes," Tod Crown said loudly. A light chuckle caressed the words. "The Noon man is a caution. As I told you, Sister Ruth and you wouldn't listen. Now I'm afraid you are going to have to deal him in. A three-way split. There's just no other alternative unless you wish the walls of the Temple to come crashing down around all our ears."

  "Say it, you black bastard," she snarled at him. "Go ahead and damn you—say it!"

  "I," Brother Tod Crown said, "told you so."

  Directly facing me was the peculiar canvas with the blood red owl looking down. While Ruth and Crown dissolved some specific anger between them, the owl's wise old eyes seemed to provide the answer to that sixty-four thousand dollar question.

  Who got Louis?

  From where I sat it looked like another of those murders that was all in the family.

  Chapter Eleven

  FREAK-OUT ON FIFTY-FIFTH

  □ It was such a nice place, that apartment. All that distinctive furniture, the classy oils, the deep thick rug, the french windows. There was beauty in the way the cold sunlight touched the interior of the room. Pale gold filtered. The red owl was a big, lovely bird, for all his questioning air. And yet, it was a room full of lies and deceits and curious human beings. Tod Crown and Sister Truth Ruth were not my idea of solid citizens. I wondered how long I would be able to talk to them without walking out of the apartment.

  No matter how I sliced them or rationalized for their shortcomings, we were just not on the same planet. I knew that even as I let my .45 dangle. But I didn't harness it. I figured I needed a gun to parlay with them. Very better safe than sorry.

  "All right," I said. "He told you so. Now who's going to tell me?"

  Truth Ruth's pink tongue was out again but this time it was wetting her lower lip. Her green eyes darted. She looked a little frightened and still angry with Crown. But Brother Toddy was past worrying about her disapproval. For once, he matched the business suit he was wearing.

  "Brother, this is a big pie. Maybe a million dollars' worth. It can be shared. But only if you keep your head and use good sense. Don't go holy on us and we'll cut you in. The younger generation isn't worth saving. What the hell do you care what they do with their lives?"

  "Go on. Tell him," Ruth blurted. "Don't tie ribbons on it. I think he'll understand. Jesus, you're a bag of wind, Toddy."

  That didn't ruffle him. I nodded to show him I was listening. He stood framed against the windows, a dark shadow. The teeth in his head gleamed.

  "All right Louis believed in youth. The new order of things. He was anti-war, anti-establishment, hated computers and insisted that love was the answer. I buy that. To a point. It was harmless enough and as the Sister indicated, very profitable. But there came a time when Augie French and his syndicate saw what a good thing the Temple was and asked to buy in. Mr. French was very explicit about his intentions. He saw that Louis would be the perfect intermediary for dope traffic. There were thousands of young bloods and their friends and relations who would want to take LSD, marijuana and heroin. Mr. French had the sources and the supply. He wanted a solid market. The Temple Kreshna-Rukka was most emphatically it, as far as he could see."

  He paused and cleared his throat. Ruth snorted, shaking her head. The jewellery market on her body tinkled and jangled as she stirred impatiently.

  "Never mind her. Go on."

  Tod Crown sighed.

  "Knowing the gangster mind and appreciating a good dollar, I argued with Louis that it was inevitable. There was nothing that could be done. If we defied French, there would be reprisals. Riots, bombs in the Temple. Rough stuff all the way. The police were out of the question. La Rosa hated official law as much as he hated all forms of authority. The Sister was sensible too. She saw it the way I did. But Louis had to be convinced."

  "Was he?"

  "We thought he was u
ntil the night he disappeared. That was the day when we began our first—ah—arrangement with Augie French. He delivered ten pounds of heroin to the Temple. This could be broken down from its powder form into a considerable fortune and distributed among dealers and distributors. Mr. French was to provide the experts who could package the amounts. But before they showed up, Louis disappeared and so did the ten pounds of heroin."

  "How was the horse delivered?"

  "You'll appreciate the situation, Brother Edward. Louis had arranged a private screening of All Quiet On The Western Front. He had always felt it was the very finest of the American anti-war movies. The Sister here, with her wealth, was able to purchase a print through her affluence and Hollywood contacts. Louis invited the flock to a private screening at the Temple. It has a large auditorium suitable for such a purpose. The film comes in about eight reels. These as you know come in metal cans. There were more than eight cans that night. Need I say more?"

  "Smart," I agreed. "No one would question that, not knowing the length of the film or whether you were showing other films or short subjects. Then what happened?"

  For a rare moment, his bland ebony face reflected fury.

  "What would you suppose? Mr. French, or rather his goons, hit the ceiling, promised Ruth and me cement overcoats if we didn't produce our Guru and the missing loot. We didn't have a prayer. We didn't know where Louis had gone or what he was thinking. Or what he would do."

  "So you got a little desperate and not being able to report to the Law, you investigated in private. Like Memo Morgan."

  "Exactly. With his rep and his knowledge, I thought he might know something. He does get around. But—you recall how he took off when I mentioned La Rosa's name?"

  "Yeah. That bothered me too. And that brought me into the picture and you began to think of finding La Rosa in terms of a private cop."

  Truth Ruth sniffed. "Not such a hot idea. You're a pain in my ass, Ed. When Crown brought you to the Temple after that blow-up at the Gardens, I didn't like it at all. How the hell did we know you weren't working for French or something? Especially you being on deck when somebody dynamited the club? One of Louis' clubs."

  "That doesn't make sense, Ruth," I said. "Not if you think it out."

  Crown shrugged. "Not necessarily. It is also the gangster intellect to remind one what they can do if you cross them. Bombing the club is pure Mafia logic. A hint to myself and the Sister to get a move on in locating Louis."

  "Maybe so. You followed me to the club then?"

  "Yes. When the explosion occurred, I saw my chance. You were out on your feet. I left the woman because she only would have got in the way."

  "Thanks for that much." I looked at them both. "If you're telling me straight, then I'm supposed to believe that French sent his two goons to Morgan for the same reason. Thinking he just might know something about the Guru and the heroin. That it?"

  "You're the fuzz," Ruth sneered. "You want a map and a compass and directions?"

  "You're such a doll, Ruth. You know that? Tell me, do either of you know a Chinese girl named Olan Wing? She's an actress currently working off-Broadway."

  "Who is she?" Ruth laughed. "Another of your liberal lays? Don't you go for white girls at all?"

  "No," Crown said. "I don't know her. Never heard the name. It's not a name you would forget."

  "You wouldn't forget her if you saw her either. She's a dish whether you take one from A or B. She seems to be Memo Morgan's girl friend."

  "Morgan?" Ruth echoed. "Who'd want to sleep with that wreck? How the hell can he stud at his age?"

  I skipped an obvious answer to that. The twig calling the tree old. Tod Crown was staring at me, waiting. I knew he wanted an answer of some kind.

  "Well," I said.

  "Well," he agreed. "Do you come in with us or don't you?"

  "What do you want me to do?"

  "Find Louis' murderer who must obviously also have the missing heroin. Turn that over to us. We'll give you one third of all the cash we realize on the transaction, and Mr. French does not have to know of your connection in the enterprise. Agreed, Sister?" He flung that at his skinny colleague. She sprawled back on the floor, her long, stick-like legs stabbing the rug.

  "Sure, sure. Who cares? Bring the Army, the Navy and the Marines into this. The show's a flop anyway. Without Louis, the Temple will fold."

  "No," Crown said with steel in his voice. "There will be a new Guru. The flock is there, waiting. It would be a shame to let them down. They are children. They need a leader."

  She didn't change her position but her head shot up. The green eyes glittered.

  "Don't tell me, Emperor Jones. You want to be king of the hill. Jeeziz, a two-bit boogie from Harlem. And you want to be Boss. I'll tell you the truth, Toddy baby. You couldn't fit one of Louis's shoes if you parked both feet in them."

  Tod Crown was moving deftly into his new role. The martyr's look crossed his face and he smiled easily. Nothing but Christian charity shone from his great dark face. The ivory teeth gleamed.

  "We shall see what we shall see," he said softly. "I'm waiting for your answer, Brother Edward."

  "One more question. No, make that two."

  "Certainly."

  "There's a small red owl tattooed on Louis La Rosa's chest. Maybe a couple of inches from his right nipple. The owl is dripping about two drops of blood. Know anything about that? Either of you? That's my first question."

  Ruth Truth's eyes had gone to the owl in oils on the wall behind her chair.

  "That thing? Sure. Louis painted it. He said the owl was the wisest bird in the world because he lived on rats. The doohickey on his chest he always had. I saw it the first night he laid me." She chuckled viciously. "Man, he had the beat when he concentrated on it. Trouble was, he got less and less interested. So damn wrapped up in the crusade. And then he got all fat and ugly and smelly. What's so awful special about the tattoo?"

  Tod Crown murmured. "So you saw the body at the morgue? I imagined you would have. Your police friend, the Captain. Yes. The owl is a reminder of Louis' war service. He had the tattoo done in New York to cover the scar left by a shrapnel wound. He told me that once. Beyond that—it can have no special significance."

  Ruth sniffed again. "One question down, fuzz. What's the other one?"

  "My P.I. card was planted on the body. You two and dear young Joe Violets are the only three who could possibly have stolen it from my wallet."

  "Please, Brother," Crown protested. "That would be like saying I killed the greatest friend I ever had."

  "Don't look at me either," Ruth jeered. "If you wanta know, ask Joe."

  "I will when I get the chance." I got to my feet, still holding the .45. "Well, it's time I got back to the office. Don't think it hasn't been fun, because it hasn't."

  Crown took a step towards me.

  "The proposition, Brother."

  "No dice, Crown. I'm sorry but there's absolutely one word in the entire English language that puts me off. And you said the magic word."

  "I see," he said. "Dope. You will not touch anything that involves dope, is that it? I suspected as much."

  "Check and double-check. You can tell me all about how cigarettes are slowly giving me cancer and the evils of alcohol but I absolutely draw the line when it comes to getting drugs into the hands of anybody. Let alone teenagers. Include me out."

  Truth Ruth got up from the floor, accompanied by her private band section. Utter contempt shone from the green eyes. Her skinny hands waved at me.

  "You really are something, fuzz. You know that?"

  "Sure." I backed towards the short foyer that led out of the room. "I'm something special."

  "Yeah," she rasped, "and you really think we're going to let you dance out of here with what you know when the first thing you'll do is blow the whistle on us? You got another think coming if you're thinking that crazy."

  "As Bennett Cerf used to say—"

  "Brother Noon," Tod Crown begged.


  "Try and stop me." I edged towards the foyer, covering them both with the Colt. Ruth had called the turn. What does a good citizen do when he hears that ten pounds of heroin are missing? Heroin intended for the sick, misunderstood, angry young misfits of the city? He runs and tells his cop pal, that's what.

  Ruth understood the truth about that. Even if she was the biggest liar who weighed less than one hundred pounds. She was overcharged every time she stepped on a penny weight scale.

  Crown stopped begging and the Sister's green eyes narrowed. I saw the change in their attitudes in time but too late to do anything constructive about it.

  The next voice I heard was the singing, slashing, whining sound you get when some animal tamer in the Madison Square Garden arena cowers a big lion about ready to jump down his gullet.

  I felt rather than saw the whip.

  It darted in a flickering, flailing murderous snap from across the hall behind me. Biting, agonizing leather bit around my gun wrist, winding rapidly, binding like a snake. The .45 flopped from my fingers. The whip tugged. I was pulled down to one knee and tried not to cry out. The pain was intense and electrifying, like having a thousand volts suddenly shoot yearningly up your arm to reach your shoulder.

  The whip tugged loose and slithered back across the rug and I'd had it. I stood there, trying not to go blind with the spring of tears to my eyes, still on one knee.

  Tod Crown didn't move. Truth Ruth laughed. Her broomstick laugh. The sort of mad, cacophonic giggle that Phyllis Diller does on TV for comedy's sake.

  Only this wasn't funny.

  I staggered erect, squeezing my fist to restore some feeling. I heard Joe Violets' voice before I saw him. It came from the foyer and it was filled with sarcasm, high glee and plain old fancy hell.

  "She's my girl, fuzz. And nobody points a gun at her. Turn around now so I can get another crack at you. For openers, I think I'll take out your right eye."

  "Get him, baby," Ruth giggled. "Make him dance."

  I didn't turn but the whip lashed out again.

  It sang across the room, splitting the restful atmosphere of the fancy apartment. A flying, zinging, vicious zzzzttt of sound.