Lady, Here's Your Wreath (10 page)

     I turned on my side and swam over to her fast.
     “H'yah, baby,” I said. “You all right?”
     “Some guy's goin' to pay for this,” she said furiously, “you see if he don't.”
     I had a little grin to myself in the darkness. This dame's temper couldn't be put out even with water.
     “Suppose we go home?” I said, swimming along at her side. “I guess we've done enough for one night.”
     Together we swam quietly to the lights on the waterfront.
     

     
     IT WAS TRICKY work smuggling Blondie into my apartment. If she didn't mind getting herself talked about, I did.
     We certainly had all the luck. After swimming around for a little while, we made the waterfront. A docker nearly had a fit when we climbed up the side of the wharf right at his feet. Once he'd got over the shock of seeing Blondie in her wet undies, he extended a helping hand. He took us along to his place and fitted us out with a couple of worn-out suits. We both looked tramps, but we didn't give a damn.
     The docker seemed quite content to accept a phoney story I'd made up for his consumption, and when I promised him twenty dollars if he got us a taxi, he couldn't do enough for us. That was how we got home.
     Right now, Blondie was lying in the bath soaking her bruises, and I Was crouched over the fire with a glass of Scotch in my hand.
     I wasn't too keen having Blondie here. She just wouldn't go back to her apartment. There was nothing else to do but to bring her here. I wanted to get her story, and although she didn't say more than three or four words in the taxi... and they were bad ones, I had hopes of getting something out of her.
     “When you've finished,” I bawled out to her, “you might remember I'm waiting.”
     “All right,” she called back. “Come and give me a towel and I'll come out.”
     I said, “You can get it yourself. Remember I'm modest, if you ain't.”
     She didn't say anything to that, but I heard her climb out of the bath, and after some time she came out wrapped in my woollen dressing-gown. Her eyes were still stormy and her mouth was set in a sullen line. She jerked her head towards the bathroom, and poured herself out three fingers of Scotch.
     I went into the bathroom and had a quick one. The hot water did a lot to restore me, and when I came out again I was feeling fine.
     Blondie was crouched over the fire. A cigarette dangled from her lips and the Scotch was way down in the bottle.
     I sat down close to her and lit a cigarette. We remained like that for several moments. Then I said, “Maybe you'd like to tell me what happened.”
     She twisted round so that she faced me. This dame was tough all right. I guess the street knocks hell out of these women. They've learnt to have no feelings, and to be on the look-out for a double-cross at every step. It is the one weapon they have to protect themselves.
     Looking down at her hard face, I could see no redeeming expression.. She was a swell looker, but that didn't get a dame far. If you'd got eyes like granite and a mouth like a trap, I guess the rest of your looks can't even that lot up.
     “Listen,” she said evenly. “You pulled me out of a jam, but you did it because of someone else and not because of me. You an' me have had a little trouble before. I guess we don't mean anythin' to each other. Well, if you're extending sympathy, you can stick it on the wall. I can manage okay without you handing out any grease; get all that?”
     Talking with a dame like her was like playing 'handles' with a rattlesnake. There was only one way to talk to a dame who gets like that, so I handed out some of her own stuff.
     “I'm not handing you any grease, sister,” I said, “I haven't any grease to pass on to your type. I save it for those who can appreciate it. I want to know your story. I've got myself mixed up in this business, and I guess, as I pulled you out of a jam, I'm entitled to know something about it. So come off your high horse, cut out the dramatics, and shoot.”
     She turned back to the fire. “I ain't talkin',” she said.
     I got up.
     “Okay,” I said. “Beat it... go on... get the hell out of here... blow!”
     She stood up. Her face startled and her eyes wide.
     “If you ain't outside quick, I'll call the cops an' hand you over. You can guess what the charge'll be... an' I'll make it stick.”
     She saw she hadn't a leg to stand on. Her sullen face cleared and she laughed. She could look mighty nice when she laughed. “Okay, darlin',” she said, “I'll be good.”
     “You see how it is,” I said, moving back to the fire, “I've got you where it's crisp.”
     She poured herself out another Scotch. This dame certainly liked her liquor. “Yes, darlin',” she said, all honey. “You're the boss.”
     “While we're on the subject,” I went on, “I reckon I've told you before. That 'darlin'' of yours gives me a pain. You ain't on business now.”
     She came over and put her arms round my neck. “I could be,” she said, digging down into her box of tricks and putting on a swell act-
     It only made me nervous. I got rid of her arms none too gently and pushed her into the chair. “Relax,” I said. “I wantta catch up some sleep some time. It's gettin' late.”
     For a moment she looked as if she was goin' to get mad again, then she thought better of it.
     “Now what's the story behind all this?” I asked.
     She shrugged. “I guess Earl's a little tired of having me around. This is the sort of hint that guy hands out when he wants you to take a powder.”
     Not quite right. One of those difficult answers, half-truth and half-lie. If I was going to get anywhere with this dame, I'd got to lead her along carefully.
     “Those three thugs work for Katz?”
     She nodded. “That's right.”
     “What did they want to know?”
     She glanced at me quickly. Once again her lips smiled, but her eyes were suspicious. “They didn't want to know anythin', darlin,” she said.
     “Yeah? Then why did they beat you up?”
     The memory of that made her face darken. “I've told you... that's the way he gives out he's tired of you.”
     I shrugged. I certainly wasn't getting anywhere on these lines. “What do you know about Spencer?”
     She looked blank. “Never heard of him.”
     If she and Ananias got swopping stories, I'd know who I'd have my money on.
     “Ever heard of a girl called Mardi Jackson?”
     Again she shook her head. I gave up. She was too tough to get wild with. She would only laugh at me.
     “Okay, sister,” I said, getting to my feet. “I can see you an' I ain't goin' places. Maybe one day you'll think better of it an' give it me straight. I'm hoping it won't be too late for you. Suppose you tell me your plans. I can't keep you here, you know.”
     She said, “I'm leaving this town to-morrow. I want you to go along to my apartment, put some things together for me, and bring them back here. Then I'm off.”
     For nerve, this dame was the tops. I was too tired to argue.
     “Anythin' you say,” I grunted. “You'll be comfortable either in here on the couch or in my bed.... I don't care which you have, just make up your mind. I'll take the other.”
     The following morning was dull and overcast. I got up around eight. It didn't take me long to get to her apartment. A spare key was under the mat. I'd taken the fat guy's .45 along with me. It didn't seem to have suffered from the water, and I had taken care to have cleaned it well. I wasn't going to be surprised by Katz, and I don't mind telling you that I was a bit nervous going into the place.
     She had given me a list Of the things she wanted. It was not a long list and I was soon through. I then went carefully through the apartment and searched it pretty thoroughly, but I didn't find anything.
     After all the excitement, I was no further to finding Mardi. That was getting me steamed up. I had one taste of the type of thug that Spencer employed, and if they were capable of getting tough with Blondie the same methods could be handed out to Mardi.”
     I was certain that Blondie knew something and they were trying to find out what it was. The fact that she had made up her mind to leave town showed that she was scared. To leave a nice little apartment like this in a hurry, as well as to lose her connections, pointed that she knew that she was on the spot.
     I'd never get anything out of her unless she wanted to tell me. She was far too shrewd to be jumped. Now that Mardi was missing, I had to bust this thing open. There was no other way round it.
     When I got back to my apartment I found Ackie there. He was sitting on the foot of my bed, talking to Blondie.
     I stood in the doorway and glared at him. He looked over his shoulder. “H'yah, pal,” he said. “I'm mighty glad I looked in.”
     I dumped the suit-case down and glanced over at Blondie. She seemed to be enjoying herself.
     “Well, for God's sake,” I said, “can't you keep out of my place when I'm busy?”
     Ackie shook his head. “You may have to thank me,” he said. “Don't bother to introduce us, we've already done that.”
     “So I see,” I said sourly. “You might keep your trap shut about this... I don't want the whole town talkin'.”
     Ackie grinned. “Hear that?” he said to Blondie. “You'd think he was a saint, wouldn't you?”
     Blondie liked to see me getting fussed. “He ain't no saint,” she said, bringing her arms and shoulders into view.
     “Come on, Buddy,” I said, “you an' me will have a little talk outside. The lady wants to get up.”
     He was obviously reluctant to go, but I got him outside at last.
     “Well, well,” he said with a leer, “I shouldn't have thought it of you.”
     I was pardonably annoyed. “I can't explain just now,” I said heatedly. “But for Gawd's sake keep your trap shut about this. You recognise that dame?”
     Ackie screwed up his face thoughtfully. “Yeah,” he said, “I know her all right. I suppose you're still chasing up the Vessi affair. Well, I guess you're having a swell time doin' it.”
     “Suppose you tell me what you want bustin' in like this?”
     He thought for a moment, then his face brightened. “You know, I'd forgotten all about it. When I walked into your bedroom and found that dame in your bed, I certainly had a shock. Yeah, now about to-night. The boys are throwing a little party down at Hughson's place. I thought maybe you'd like to come with me. It's as well to meet the boys every now and then, what do you say?”
     To get rid of him, I'd've agreed to anything. “Sure,” I said, “that's grand. Suppose you pick me up, and we'll go along together.”
     I took him by the arm and led him to the door. He got it all right. “Now mind you be careful,” he said.
     I shoved him out of the door and slammed it behind him. Then I went back to Blondie. She was doing her hair with my hair-brushes. Everyone seemed to be using my place like it was a hotel. I sat on the bed.
     “A real funny guy,” I said.
     “Oh, I like him, darlin',” she said, glancing back over her shoulder. “I think he's cute.”
     She would. They were a pair.
     “Well, baby,” I said, anxious to get her off my hands, “I got your stuff so I guess you'll be moving out.”
     She finished her hair and opened up the suit-case. I saw her make a little grimace at the way I had packed her things, but that didn't worry me. She'd got a hell of a crust asking me to do it, so if she didn't like it she could do what the monkey did.
     She sorted some things out that she wanted to wear and began to get dressed. I sat there and watched her. The thing uppermost in my mind was that she was leaving town and I might never see her again. She was an important link between Katz and Spencer, and consequently she might be able to lead me to Mardi. I risked everything and had another try.
     “There was a girl working for Spencer at the Mackenzie Fabrics. She was a mighty swell dame an' I got interested in her,” I began.
     “Listen, hayseed,” she said, without looking up. She was bending over, fixing her suspender. “I ain't interested in your love life.”
     I was tempted to take a sock at her, but I kept my hands in my pockets. “This dame has disappeared,” I went on. “I can't find her——”
     “If she was a good girl she's saved herself a lot of grief,” she said, straightening up and reaching for her dress.
     “I could do things to you,” I said grimly.
     “I know—I know. It's no use makin' a beef now.”
     I went over to her and put my hands on her arms. I held her tight. She looked up at me, her face hardening. “Don't start getting tough,” she said. “I'll get that way too.”
     “You haven't thought that Katz is hanging around waiting to put a slug in you, have you?” I said. “You think you're bright enough to play a solo hand on this and get away with it. You might, but then again you might not. If one day I read that a nice-lookin' blonde has been fished out of the drink, I'll have a laugh. I am ready to take this thing over if you're ready to tell me what you know. If you wait too long, you might never be able to talk. So this is your last chance to get it off your chest.”
     She sneered. “What a mouthful,” she said. “I can look after myself, big boy, don't let that grieve you. I've done it before, an' I'll keep on doin' it. I ain't tellin' you a thing. If you're so anxious, try and find out for yourself.”
     I shrugged and let her go. “Okay, wise guy,” I said. “Go ahead and work on your own. Don't say I haven't warned you.”
     She pulled on her dress and fixed her hat. As she closed her case, she said: “The next time you see me, raise your lid. I shall be in the money.”
     That crack told me something. Blondie had her eye on some easy dough. That meant blackmail. It explained why she wanted to work on her own. It explained quite a lot of things.
     I said: “You watch your step, Blondie. That game's dangerous.”
     Her face was expressionless. She picked up her bag and moved to the door. “I'll get by,” she said. “If I don't see you again, keep sober.”
     She opened the door and stepped into the passage. I watched her walk away, her tall figure swaying a little and her head held high.
     I was just going back to my room when I saw the guy opposite standing in his doorway. His eyes were popping.
     “Still seein' things?” I asked pleasantly, and went inside, shutting the door quietly against his palpitating curiosity.
     

     
     BY THE TIME ACKIE and I got round to Hughson's place the party was well under way.
     There were eight couples crammed into his small room and the air was thick with smoke. Everyone was drinking as hard as they could put it down and everyone was smoking.
     There was a general shout when Ackie edged his way in. Most people got a laugh when they saw him. He got rid of his hat and coat and grabbed a bottle of Scotch.
     Hughson came over to me and shook hands. “This is a bum party, Nick,” he said apologetically. “But I'm glad you've come.”
     He led me round the room, introducing me. Most of the
Globe
guys were there and five stream-lined dames. They all looked so good I had to remark about it. Hughson explained they were from
The Moon and the Fiddle,
a musical that was running at the Plaza.
     He got me settled down with a redhead and a glass of Scotch-and-soda in my hand, and then he went off to do the host with Ackie. Not that Ackie wasn't looking after himself.
     The redhead was pretty tight and giggled a lot. She told me her name was Dawn Murray. When I asked what her real name was she giggled a lot more but wouldn't tell me.
     These parties always go the same way. Everyone gets plastered and talks about nothing and laughs when there's nothing to laugh about. I guess it's just an excuse to get tight.
     Dawn started talking about books. This surprised me because I thought she wouldn't bother about reading. She'd just finished Steinbeck's
Grapes of Wrath.
     “Now I bet that guy knows what he's writing about,” she said. “I bet he lived in those camps. That's the most marvellous book I've ever read.”
     A tall, lanky guy who I didn't know, and whose name I hadn't caught when I was introduced, pricked up his ears when he heard that and came over. He'd read it too, so I guess they were soul-mates. I got up quietly and left them to it.
     The certain sign that a party is going well is when the people start going into the kitchen. I thought I'd have a look and see if any one had got there yet. I drifted in and found a couple with their arms around each other and their faces glued together.
     That told me the party was going all right.
     “If she bites you, I'll give you the verdict,” I said.
     The fellow prised himself loose. “I bet your ma thinks you're a scream,” he said coldly.
     Not so good. I went back to the sitting-room. Dawn and the lanky guy had exhausted Steinbeck and were sitting playing handies.
     Someone started the gramophone and everyone broke up into couples to dance. There was no room for much movement, but so long as they'd got their arms round a girl and could shuffle their feet a yard or two, they didn't care.
     I was content to sit in an armchair and watch them. Hughson came over after a little while and sat on the arm of my chair.
     “The old man's pleased the way you handled the Colonel for us,” he said. “He thinks you made a swell job of it.”
     Hughson was the sort of guy who would never let anything rest. He kept on plugging at the thing, and now nice the Colonel was about it, until I thought I'd go haywire.
     Then right in the middle of it the door opened and Mardi walked in.
     I saw her at once, and I couldn't believe my eyes. Standing behind her was a tall guy with a lot of wavy hair and the sort of brown complexion that dames fall for and, of course, very bright blue eyes. This guy was handsome all right.
     I stared at Mardi through the haze of tobacco smoke and thought I was seeing things. I said cautiously to Hughson: “Who's the dame?”
     He got off my chair arm. “I don't know, but I'm goin' to find out... she's a peach, ain't she?”
     He went over and shook hands with the tall guy. Then he had a few words with Mardi. I was suddenly aware that I was pretty high, and I was sorry about it. I was feeling a little sore about the tall guy. That didn't look so good.
     Hughson had stopped them dancing and was taking the two round introducing them. I got out of my chair and put my tie straight. They got round to me at last. In the confusion of the crowd and the thickness of the atmosphere, Mardi hadn't seen me. Now she was standing right in front of me. We looked at each other and her face went white.
     Hughson was saying: “You must meet Nick... you'll like this guy. He's done, more for the Women's Friendly Societies than most men. The trouble is he gets too friendly so they give him the gate in the end.”
     I wasn't listening to what he said. Mardi was trying to tell me something without speaking. Her eyes were wide and she looked scared; then, seeing that I was still dumb, she said: “Why haven't I met you before?”
     I got it all right then. For some reason or other she didn't want to let on she knew me.
     I said: “You've got your chance now and I'm hoping you won't be disappointed.” It was a lame comeback, but I was up-creek without a paddle.
     Hughson introduced me to the tall guy. He said: “Nick, I want you to meet Lee Curtis,” then turning his head he went on: “Curtis, this is——”
     Mardi interrupted him. She broke in quite naturally: “Oh, Barry, who's the funny little man over there?”
     Hughson grinned. “That's Mo Ackie. The smartest news-hawk on the street. Come on over and meet him.”
     He led them away from me and Ackie started doing his stuff right away. I was learning fast. First, Mardi didn't want me to show that I'd met her and, second, she didn't want the big guy to know my name. I added that together. I was in a spot. I wanted to go over and get friendly with the girl, but obviously she didn't want Curtis to get any inkling, so I had to stay there and water at the mouth.
     Dawn came over to me. “Dance with me, hot man,” she said. “Crush me up in your arms. My instincts are starving.”
     I could have gladly wrung her neck, but thought I'd better mix in with the crowd. Mardi and Curtis were talking in a corner with Hughson. Curtis had his back to me, but Mardi kept her eyes on me as I shuffled around the room.
     Dawn said: “You might pay me a little attention. That brunette isn't going to fall for you.”
     I jerked my eyes away from Mardi and grinned at her. “You don't need to worry,” I said. “Anyway, you could have the curly-haired guy, if she did.”
     She shook her head. “I don't want him,” she said.
     I manoeuvred her to the far end of the room. “What do you know about him?” I asked, jerking gently to the swing.
     “Know about Lee Curtis?” Her eyebrows shot up. “Plenty.”
     I danced her round the room again and then the record finished. “Suppose we go out into the kitchen and have a drink?”
     “That's what I like about you. You anticipate my thoughts.”
     We slipped out of the room and into the kitchen. It was in complete darkness, but I knew where Hughson had left his torch. She held the light while I fixed a Bacardi cocktail. Then we sat down on the table with the torch between us.
     “I'm interested in this guy Curtis,” I said. “Suppose you tell me about him.”
     She sipped the Bacardi thoughtfully. “There isn't anything to tell. He's got some dough, likes a good time, runs around with anything easy and changes his bedfellow once a week.”
     I wondered what the hell Mardi was doing with him. You can tell if a girl's a tramp more times than not, and I was prepared to swear that Mardi was on the level.
     “What's he do for a living?” I said.
     “Oh, he's something big in the Mackenzie Fabrics. Secretary of the company or something. Do you mind not talking about him any more... I'm getting bored.”
     “Sure, that's all right,” I said.
     My brain was busy. So this guy was tied up in the same business. That told me why Mardi wanted to keep my name out of it. I told myself that Mardi knew something and I was going to find out what just as soon as I got her to myself.
     Because she expected it, I did a little necking with Dawn and then left her sitting on the table in the gloom, patiently waiting for me to come back. I'd made up my mind that I wasn't going to be alone any more with that dame that night.
     I looked into the sitting-room. The party was still going on. Mardi was dancing with Hughson. Just as I was going to walk in I heard the telephone in the hall ringing. Hughson looked at me and he called: “See who it is, will you, Nick?”
     I said, “Sure,” and went over to the telephone. “Hullo? This is Barry Hughson's apartment.”
     A woman said: “Is Mr. Curtis there? Mr. Lee Curtis?”
     I said, “Hold on,” and put the telephone down. I went into the sitting-room. Curtis was doing his stuff with Ackie's Spanish dame. I went over. “You're wanted on the 'phone,” I said.
     He looked startled. “You sure?” he asked, getting to his feet.
     “If your name's Curtis, I am,” I said.
     He gave me a quick, hard look and then went outside. I saw him shut the door carefully behind him, and I looked around for Mardi. Before I could spot her, the Spanish dame started doing her stuff. At times, women are hell.
     By the time I'd got away from her Curtis had come back into the room. He was looking mad all right. He went over to Hughson. “I'm sorry,” he said, “I've had an urgent telephone message. I've got to get home.”
     Hughson didn't worry a lot. He made sympathetic noises. “You're not taking Mardi with you?” he said anxiously. “She an' I are gettin' on well together.”
     I moved a little closer so that I could hear.
     Curtis looked down at Mardi. “I'll take you home first,” he said, “or do you want to stay? I'm damn sorry about this....”
     She shook her head. “I'll stay. You go on. Maybe you can come back.”
     He hesitated. I could see he didn't want to go and he was sore as hell.
     Hughson put in: “I'll see her back. You don't have to worry.”
     “All right, I'll see you to-morrow,” Curtis said to Mardi.
     He went out of the door quickly, not bothering to say good-bye to any of the others. That's the sort of guy Curtis was. No one was of any interest to him unless he was sure that he was going to get something out of them.
     Mardi said to Hughson: “I'd love a gin-and-lime.”
     “Sure, I'll fix you one. Just wait a moment. I won't be long,” kidding himself that she was going into mourning until he came back.
     I stepped up to her as soon as he went into the kitchen. I was hoping that Dawn would hold him for a little while. “I want to talk to you,” I said quietly. “May I take you home?”
     She nodded.
     I got a swell feeling just standing looking at her. “Mind if we go soon?”
     She shook her head. “When you like,” she said.
     Hughson came back with the gin-and-lime. When he saw me his face darkened. “On your way, big boy,” he said. “There's a virgin in the kitchen waiting for you.”
     I shook my head. “You're too late. Mardi an' me are old friends. She's just having the drink an' we're going home... together and alone.”
     Hughson turned to Mardi. “I've warned you about this guy,” he said heatedly. “He spends all his time grabbing things that don't belong to him and wrecking homes.”
     Mardi laughed. “I feel like being wrecked right now,” she said. “It's getting late, Barry, and I ought to go.”
     Hughson groaned. “Give me one more dance and I'll let you,” he said. “You had much better let me see you home.”
     I nodded to her behind his back. I didn't want this to look too sudden. They danced off together and I went over to Ackie. I told him I was moving off.
     He was so plastered that he didn't care if I was going to commit suicide. “Don't be hard on her,” he said, screwing up his eyes. “She looks a swell girl.”
     I signalled to Mardi that I'd meet her downstairs. I didn't want Dawn to arrive just as we were going. I need not have worried my head about her. She had passed out under the kitchen table.
     Five minutes later Mardi came running down the stairs. She wore a perky little hat and a nice fur coat. She looked good.
     We didn't have to wait long before a taxi crawled by. I waved and he pulled up at the kerb. “Where shall I tell him?” I asked.
     She hesitated. Then she said: “I—I haven't got a home any more... do you think I could put up at a hotel or somewhere?”
     I gaped at her. “Have you got any luggage?”
     She nodded. “It's at the station,” she said. “I could go there first and collect it, but I want to catch an early train.”
     I said: “If I suggest you come back to my place, I want you to know that I don't mean anything wrong. I just offer you my roof and hope you will accept it.”
     She stood looking into my face for several seconds, then she said: “Thank you. It's nice of you.”
     Hardly believing that I had heard correctly, I handed her into the taxi.