1953 - I'll Bury My Dead (13 page)

The man in the brown suit trod on his brake and stopped the car within a yard of Hennessey, who turned his head to stare at the car, seeing only the two wheels and the dusty hood. A thin trickle of blood ran out of his mouth and he felt a terrible pain tearing at his chest.

The man in the brown suit glanced into the driving mirror. He could see the dim length of the alley stretching out behind him. It was empty and silent. He engaged gear and reversed the car, stopping it when it was some twenty to thirty feet from where Hennessey was lying, then he shifted the gear-stick into second, let in the clutch and sent the car forward slowly, leaning out of the window so he could see what he was doing.

Hennessey screamed wildly as the car came toward him. He tried to crawl out of the way, but the effort was too much for him.

The man in the brown suit moved the steering wheel a trifle. He leaned far out of the car. Hennessey looked up into the big amber-coloured eyes that were as indifferent to him and as expressionless as the headlamps of a car. The onside front wheel went over Hennessey’s upturned face. Keeping his course the man in the brown suit felt the rear wheel lift and thud down, and he gave a pleased little nod.

He slightly increased his speed, reached the end of the alley, swung into the main street and headed uptown.

IV

N
ick English paced the floor of his office, his hands clasped behind his back, his chin down, his face hard and frowning.

The time was six minutes after seven. Everyone, including Lois, had gone home, and only he and Ed Leon remained in the office. He had listened to Leon’s report with growing alarm, although he didn’t reveal the fact to Leon.

Leon lolled in an armchair, his long fingers laced around one knee. His hat rested on the back of his head, and he talked in a low voice, marshaling his facts and bringing them out clearly.

‘Well, I guess that’s about all, he wound up. Tomorrow I’m going to call on this Mitchell girl. Maybe she’ll have some facts for me. I don’t know how you feel about Hennessey, Nick, but I gave him a hint he might get some of his money back. He’s been bled for close on five hundred bucks.’

‘I’ll write a check,’ English said, and moved over to the desk. ‘Find out how much the Mitchell girl had to pay. I’ll square her, too.’

‘This could be an expensive business,’ Leon reminded him. ‘Calhoun said some days as many as thirty people called on him.’

‘I just can’t believe it!’ English said, sitting down. ‘Organized blackmail! It was bad enough when we thought he was putting pressure on a couple of his old clients, but thirty people a day! Who’s this fella with the scar?’

‘I don’t know, but I’ll find out if you want me to. From what Hennessey said he was just Roy’s stooge.’

‘I don’t believe that either. Roy hadn’t it in him to organize a racket like this. If anyone was the stooge, he was the one.’

Leon didn’t say anything. He took out a cigarette and lit it carefully, put the match in the bronze ashtray.

‘If this gets out, Ed, I’m sunk,’ English went on. ‘But these people should be found and paid back. This fella with the scar should be put out of business. Maybe he was the one who shot Roy.’

‘I’ve checked on that angle,’ Leon said. ‘Three people went up to the sixth floor around the time Roy was supposed to have shot himself. Two fellas and a girl - the girl was the only one Calhoun was sure had gone to see English. The other two called on the news service agency. I checked on them. The young one was a messenger from the Associated Press. The other fella wanted information about the service these people sell.’

English frowned.

‘Funny time to call for information, wasn’t it?’

‘That’s what I thought, but the manager of the News Service said they never close and people come in at all hours. Still, this guy might be worth checking on. He might have gone first to this News Service and then along to shoot Roy. It would have given him an alibi if Calhoun had reported his presence to Morilli.’

‘Is it likely a killer would have used the elevator?’ English said. ‘I doubt if he or the girl shot Roy. The killer wouldn’t want to be seen. He would slip into the building and walk up the stairs.’

‘Maybe,’ Leon said, ‘but on the other hand, he might be a smooth operator, and anticipate that was what people would think. He might figure he would be unlikely to be suspected if he used the elevator and let Calhoun have a good look at him, so long as he could prove he had been to the News Service.’

‘Yes, that’s a smart bit of reasoning. You’d better see if you can find out something about him. Have you got a description?’

‘Yep, and a good one. He’s around, twenty-seven or eight, and he wore a brown suit and brown hat. He carries a silk handkerchief tucked up his sleeve and he chews gum. But for all that, it won’t be easy to find him.’

‘Think so?’ English said. ‘I think I can give you his name and tell you where he lives right now. If I’m not mistaken, his name’s Roger Sherman and he lives in Crown Court.’

Leon stared at him.

‘A friend of yours?’

English shook his head.

‘No, I haven’t even spoken to him, but I’ve seen him often enough. He has an apartment on the same floor as mine. The description fits him like a glove. What does he do for a living?’

‘I don’t know. Nothing as far as I can see. He’s what used to be known as a dilettante. He’s interested in art and music. You’ll always find him at previews of fashionable galleries, and he has a private box at the Sheldon Hall where he takes in all the important concerts. I might have a talk to him myself. I can’t imagine he even knew Roy, let alone want to shoot him, but he might have seen someone on the landing or heard the shot. Yes, I think you can leave him to me. You talk to this Mitchell girl.’

Leon nodded, slowly got to his feet and stretched.

‘Well, I guess I’ll get along. I want to find somewhere to sleep. The hotel I’m staying at gives me the horrors. The room I’ve got is so small I have to use a folding toothbrush.’

‘What about the girl who called on Roy? You haven’t told me about her yet,’ English said.

‘According to Calhoun, she was good looking enough to be in the movies,’ Leon said, stubbing out his cigarette. He said she was wearing a black and white skullcap, a black suit with wide white lapels, black and white gauntlet gloves, and a charm bracelet.’

English paused in his pacing and looked sharply at Leon.

‘A charm bracelet?’

‘That’s right, a gold chain with little charms hanging from it.’

‘Well, I’ll be double-damned!’ English said under his breath, and he ran his fingers through his hair.

‘Don’t say you know her, too?’

‘I don’t know. I might. I’ll let you know, Ed. Okay, come and see me after you’ve had a talk with this Mitchell girl. Here, wait a minute, let me write a check for Hennessey. Cash it yourself and give him the money, and don’t let him know where it comes from.’

‘I’ll do just that thing.’

Leon waited until English had written the check, slipped it into his pocket and made for the door.

‘I guess I’ll go back to the office and see if I can find out where those microphone wires lead to,’ he said. ‘If I make a startling discovery I’ll phone you. Where will you be?’

‘Phone me at my apartment after midnight,’ English said, glancing at his watch. ‘Or maybe you’d better leave it until tomorrow morning.’

‘I’ll do that,’ Leon said. ‘So long for now.’

When he had gone, English turned off the lights, put on his overcoat and went down to where Chuck was waiting with the car.

‘Miss Clair’s apartment,’ English said curtly.

‘Want the evening paper, boss?’ Chuck asked, offering it.

‘Thanks,’ English returned, got into the car and turned on the reading lamp. He read through the paper as Chuck drove toward Riverside Drive. A small paragraph caught his eye. He read it, frowning, read it again, then said, ‘Get me to a telephone quickly, Chuck.’

‘One just ahead,’ Chuck said, swung over to the curb and pulled up outside a drug store.

English got out of the car and hurried across the sidewalk to a row of phone booths. He called the Alert Agency.

Leon answered.

‘I’ve only just this second got in,’ he said, startled to hear English’s voice so soon.

‘That old fella you were telling me about, was his name Joe Hennessey?’

‘That’s right. Why?’

‘27 Eastern Street?’

‘Yep.’

‘He’s dead. It’s in the paper. He was killed by a hit-and-run driver in an alley that’s barred to traffic.’

‘For crying out loud!’

‘Listen, Ed, I don’t like the sound of this. It may be a coincidence, but I don’t think so. It seems to me you two were seen together, and someone decided Hennessey talked too much. I want you to go right away and get hold of the Mitchell girl. The same guy might have heard Hennessey telling you about her. Get hold of her and bring her to my apartment. Keep her there until I get back. I won’t be much longer than a couple of hours.’

‘Okay, I’ll do that right away,’ Leon said. ‘Where can I call you if anything goes wrong?’

‘I’ll be with Miss Clair,’ English said, and gave Leon Julie’s number. ‘Get after her right away,’ and he hung up.

Ten minutes later he was letting himself into Julie’s apartment, which he found in darkness. He stood in the lobby, frowning.

‘Julie?’

There was no answer, and taking off his hat and coat, he went into the sitting room. He crossed over to the bedroom, pushed open the door and turned on the tights.

He stood looking around the room, then walked across to the big built-in wardrobe, opened the double doors and glanced in. Among the many frocks, suits and coats hanging in an orderly line, he spotted the black suit with the wide white lapels. Above it on a shelf were a pair of black and white gauntlet gloves and a small black and white hat.

He closed the doors, stroked his jaw thoughtfully and returned to the sitting room. He stirred the fire, went over to the cellarette and poured himself a whisky and soda. Then he sat down before the fire, lit a cigarette and waited, his eyes brooding and cold. Some ten minutes later, he heard Julie come in.

‘Oh, Nick!’ she said as she opened the sitting room door. ‘Have you been waiting long? I had a rehearsal, and there was some dope who couldn’t get anything right. I’m so sorry I’m late.’

English got up and kissed her, smiling at her.

‘That’s all right. I was a little early, come to that. How are you, Julie? You’re looking pretty good.’

‘I’m fine, but tired,’ Julie said, taking off her camelhair coat and sinking into an armchair. ‘I’m dying for a drink. Would you get me a martini?’

He began to mix the martini, shooting a searching glance at her from time to time. He thought she looked tired, and the usual sparkle in her eyes was missing.

‘What’s been happening to you?’ she asked, leaning back and closing her eyes. ‘Have you had a good day?

‘Oh, all right,’ English said, and came over and gave her the martini. ‘I hope that’s not too dry.’

‘It’s perfect,’ Julie said. She drank half the martini, sighed and put down the glass. ‘What are you doing tonight?’

‘I’m afraid I have a date in about an hour,’ English said. ‘Something important. Sorry, Julie.’

‘Oh, well, never mind. I don’t have to be at the club until ten-thirty. I’ll take a bath and a snooze. I don’t feel like having dinner. I’ll have something when I get back.’

English gave her a cigarette, lit it for her, and then moved slowly over to the fire.

‘Julie, why did you go and see Roy the night he died?’ he asked quietly.

He saw her stiffen and go as white as a fresh fall of snow. She looked at him, her eyes opening wide, and it startled him to see the utter fear in her eyes.

‘Now look, Julie,’ he went on, ‘you mustn’t ever be scared of me. I know you went there, and I want to know why, but that doesn’t mean you have to be frightened.’

‘No, I - I suppose not,’ Julie said huskily, and made an effort to control herself. How much did he know? she asked herself, her mind cold with panic. Did he know about Harry? Was this only the opening gambit? ‘You startled me, Nick. I didn’t think anyone knew about that.’

He smiled.

‘No one does except me. Was Roy blackmailing you?’

For a moment Julie thought she was going to faint. Her heart seemed to turn over, and she felt sick.

‘I found out this afternoon that Roy had been blackmailing a number of people,’ English went on. ‘You were seen going up to the sixth floor, and I recognized the description of that suit - the magpie one I like so much. I wondered if you, too, were paying Roy money.’

Was that all he knew? she wondered, her tongue touching her dry lips.

‘Yes, he was blackmailing me,’ she said, and her mind darted about trying to think of a reason he would believe.

‘For God’s sake!’ English exclaimed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? I would have broken his neck!’

‘I didn’t want to tell you. I was too ashamed of myself.’

‘But, my dear girl, you needn’t have told me why he was blackmailing you. I don’t want you to tell me now. All I’m interested in is the fact he was blackmailing you.’

Julie went limp, He didn’t know! The relief was so great she wanted to cry.

‘He’s been blackmailing me for the past six months,’ she said. ‘I had to go to his office and pay him two hundred dollars every week.’

‘You should have told me,’ English said, his face hard. ‘The little rat! I know he was a weakling and a louse, but I never realized he had sunk as low as that. Julie, for goodness’ sake, don’t hide things like that from me again. I could have fixed Roy in a moment.’

‘I couldn’t tell you,’ Julie said. ‘But I want to tell you now.’

She realized she had to tell him some story. If she didn’t, sooner or later he would become suspicious of her. He might even have her watched. She wasn’t deceiving herself that his present sympathetic attitude would last. She knew him too well for that. She remembered sharing a room with a girl years ago in Boston. She remembered what had happened to the girl and, unable to think of a convincing story, she decided to borrow from the girl’s experience.