Lady, Here's Your Wreath (6 page)

     
     THE FIRST THING I did when I woke was to inspect the damage Blondie had done to me. I looked like hell. My nose was about twice its usual size and my right eye was closed. I looked like I'd been pushing Joe Louis around.
     I went back to bed, plenty mad. With a wrecked pan like this I had to wash out taking Mardi to lunch. I couldn't expect to put my stuff across, looking the ruin I was.
     I lit a cigarette and thought over my troubles. If Mardi and me were married it wouldn't matter a hoot how many black eyes I had, in fact she would be running around fixing me up and fussing me. As soon as that thought filtered through my brain I sat up with a jerk. I was crazy. Me, getting married. That was a laugh. Me, the guy who ribbed the boys who got hooked. Taking one dame on for the rest of my days was one mistake I'd promised myself never to make. And here I was, lying in bed, pondering now nice it would be.
     I got out of bed and grabbed myself a drink. I told myself I'd better take some exercise or something; I was losing my grip.
     I'd just finished my shower and rinsed off the shaving-soap when the front-door bell whirred violently. Slipping on my dressing-gown, I opened up.
     Ackie was standing there, his eyes glittering with suppressed excitement. “H'yah,” he said, pushing his way in. His eye spotted the half-pint standing on the mantelpiece and he went straight across and sunk half of it.
     “Finish it up,” I said dryly from the door, “don't mind me.”
     Ackie shook his head and put the bottle back. “Never drink in the mornin',” he said. “Pity... that ain't bad liquor.”
     I said: “Come into the bedroom while I finish dressing.”
     He followed me in and sat on the edge of the bed.
     “What's the excitement?” I asked, pulling on my shirt.
     “I gotta job——” He broke off and gaped at me. “Hi!” he exclaimed, his eyes popping, “what the hell's the matter with your face?”
     I shrugged. “Got into a little scrap last night,” I said carelessly. Tell Ackie that a dame had done this? Not a chance! The boys would rib me to death.
     Ackie still stared. “Huh,” he said, “gettin' tough, eh?”
     “You should have seen the other guys,” I said, knotting my tie carefully in the mirror. “Three great hoodlums set on me——”
     “I know... I know....” Ackie grinned. “And you beat hell out of 'em all. Yeah! You don't have to tell me.”
     “I ain't goin' to waste time tellin' you anythin' if you ain't goin' to believe it,” I said.
     “Okay, then don't, 'cos I won't.”
     I shoved my legs into my trousers. “Gettin' back to the point. What's the excitement?”
     Ackie stiffened up, as if he suddenly remembered an urgent job. “Yeah,” he said, “I got somethin' for you. How'd you like to pick up a hundred bucks?”
     I put on my coat and fixed my hair. Ackie giving away a hundred bucks was someone I didn't know. “Doin' what?”
     “You know Colonel Kennedy?”
     I turned my head and looked hard at Ackie, but his face was blank. “You don't have to ask that; you know I do.”
     “Pretty thick with him, ain't you?”
     “Come on, come on.” I stood over him. “What is this? What's Kennedy got to do with it?”
     “Listen, Nick, we're in a jam. We gotta see this guy, an' we gotta talk to him.”
     This sounded screwy to me. I sat on the table. “Why come an' see me?”
     Ackie fidgeted. “Well, this guy's being difficult, see? He won't see anyone. We reckoned you could talk to him.”
     My instinct told me that there was a story hanging to this. A story that might be big. Colonel Kennedy was one of those rich playboys with so much dough that he never found time to finish counting it. The kind of guy who gives away a couple of million and doesn't have his bank manager running round in circles.
     Some time ago I helped this guy out of a jam. He was running in a yachting race with a nickel cup hanging to it. He could have bought up the whole cup factory if he'd wanted to, but no, he had to go out in a rough sea and try and win it. Just before the gun went, his crew broke his arm. There was Kennedy hopping mad because he thought the cup was escaping him. Well, I was around and I offered to help him out. Somehow or other we got home first, and that guy was tickled to death.
     Doing Kennedy a favour meant something. For the first month I was nearly smothered with the things he used to send me. After four weeks of it I couldn't stand any more, so I changed my apartment and got under cover. Now here was Ackie asking me to go through it all over again.
     “You'd better tell me the whole story,” I said, “I ain't movin' without it.”
     Ackie groaned. “Listen, Bud,” he said earnestly, “this has gotta be done quick. Suppose you come with me an' let me tell you as we go.”
     “Go? Where?”
     “The Colonel's up at his fishing-place. You know where that is.”
     I knew Kennedy had a retreat in the hills where he used to go when he wanted to get away from people. It was sixty or seventy miles out of town. I'd never been there, but I'd heard a lot about it. I was too much the newspaper man to waste time talking, so I grabbed my hat and what was left of the half-pint and went downstairs with Ackie. He'd got a big Packard outside, with two of the boys sitting in front. One of them nursed a camera complete with flashlight on his lap. They grinned at me as I got in the back with Ackie.
     The way that Packard shot away from the kerb was nobody's business.
     I lit a cigarette and settled down in the corner. There was plenty of room in the car and the springs were swell. “You do yourself well,” I said, bouncing a little to test the springs.
     “Official car,” Ackie said. “This is somethin' big, Nick. The old man himself told me to get you.”
     “Suppose you let me have it,” I said.
     Ackie looked worried. “I don't know what the hell it's about,” he said. “As far as we know, a servant at the lodge 'phoned the police around twelve o'clock this morning and reported hearing a shot fired downstairs in the front room. She was too scared to go down an' investigate. Well, the cops went out there and spent a little while inside. I guess we'd never have heard of the business only one of our boys was at the desk when the call came through. He tipped the night editor, who thought it big enough to send someone up.
     “Well, they sent Hackenschmidt and he gets nowhere. He 'phones for help and a wagon-load of boys go up. I guess they know Kennedy and hoped for free drinks all round, but Kennedy doesn't show up. We ring him up and he answers the telephone, but as soon as we start askin' questions he hangs up quick. The old man gets mad because Kennedy's news, an' he sends for me. I waste an hour tryin' to get in, but don't get to the first base. The old man then says for me to get you... quick.”
     I rubbed my nose thoughtfully. “What do the cops say?”
     Ackie shrugged. “Kennedy's slipped 'em plenty. They say the maid was screwy an' nothin' has happened.”
     I laughed. “You'd look mighty sick if it were true,” I said.
     Ackie shook his head. “There's somethin' phoney goin' on, an' whatever it is is news. So you're bein' paid a hundred bucks to get in an' find out just what.”
     A hundred bucks! That was a laugh! If I got in there and there was something hanging to this, it was going to cost the
Globe
a lot more than a hundred bucks.
     I said: “Maybe I shan't get in.”
     Ackie's eyes opened wide. “You gotta get in,” he said, “the old man's ravin' mad now. You just gotta get in.”
     I love a situation like that. A big newspaper begging you to do something. That always means dough, and lots of it.
     “Okay,” I said, taking the Scotch out of my pocket. Ackie fixed his eyes on it. I didn't leave him much.
     We did that trip under a hundred and fifty minutes. I was glad when they pulled the car to a standstill. Driving like that without any breakfast didn't do me any good.
     Kennedy had got a swell place, make no mistake about that. The lodge was hidden from the main road by a big belt of giant trees. The surrounding country was wild and woody. Not far from the lodge a swift river about a hundred yards wide flowed strongly, twisting through the woods like a snake.
     It was the sort of place I would have bought myself if I had the dough. The sort of place Mardi and me would be happy in. Even with a big story breaking I kept linking myself with that girl.
     We piled out of the car and began to walk up the narrow, wooded path that led to the lodge. We hadn't gone far before we heard voices.
     Ackie grinned a little. “The boys've camped out here,” he said.
     He was right. We turned the sharp bend in the path and suddenly came upon the lodge and the boys. There must have been eight or nine of them hanging round the lodge, watching the windows, smoking and talking.
     When they saw us they came towards us hurriedly.
     Barry Hughson greeted me with an ironic cheer. “Jeeze,” he said, “you here again!”
     Ackie scowled at him. “The old man sent out an S O S. You watch your step... this guy's a big shot.”
     Hughson started to say something, but stopped. Maybe he thought it would be wise to quit ribbing me.
     “We ain't seen a sign of anyone,” he said. “We got the place surrounded, and we've tried getting in, but short of smashin' a window we don't stand a chance.”
     “You nuts?” I demanded. “This is going to make the Colonel as sore as hell. What do you think you're playin' at?”
     Hughson shrugged. “We got to get the dope,” he said. “The cops won't spill it... there's somethin' goin' on inside there, an' our public want to know.”
     We all had a laugh at that.
     “Listen, Nick,” Ackie said quickly. “Suppose you have a shot at it. You get in there an' find out what it's all about... then, if you can, persuade the Colonel to let the boys in... tell him he's news. We gotta see him!”
     If I could get in I should certainly line up with Kennedy. I had no sympathy with headline hunters. I was always on the look-out for a good story, but this way of getting it didn't appeal to me.
     “Call your dogs off,” I said to Hughson. “I shan't get in unless you boys are out of sight.”
     They were so eager to get that story they'd've jumped into the river if I'd told them to.
     When they had all got under cover, away from the lodge, I walked up to the front door. I took a slip of paper out of my notebook and scribbled on it: “
Maybe I can help you out of this. Nick Mason.”
I rang the bell and shoved the letter through the box.
     I stood there waiting. I waited so long that I thought I wasn't going to pull it off. Then I thought maybe Kennedy was thinking it was phoney, so I stood away from the lodge so he could see me.
     That worked it. He came to the door himself. I expected to find him plenty mad. I knew he'd got a hell of a temper once he got going.
     “Come in quick,” he said, holding the door ajar.
     I stepped into the hall and he shut and bolted the door behind me.
     “Am I glad to see you?” he said, wringing my hand. “Where the blazes have you been all this time?”
     I grinned at him. “Suppose we skip that for a moment, Colonel,” I said. “Seems like you've got yourself in a bit of a jam.”
     “Jam?” He certainly looked worried sick. “I'm sitting on dynamite. Listen, Mason, are you going to help me out again?”
     “Sure,” I said. “That's why I've come out here.”
     “Come in and have a drink,” he said, leading the way into a long, low room, with a big, empty fireplace at one end. I looked round, admiringly.
     “You've certainly've got a swell joint here,” I said.
     He was busy fixing the Scotch. “How did you hear about this?” he asked.
     “The
Globe
knew that we had been sort of friendly, and they thought maybe I could get in and find out what the trouble was about,” I said, taking the glass from his hand. “They figured that you would talk to me.”
     Just for a second he stared at me, then he grinned. “So you came out to fool them?”
     I nodded. “Sure, I came out to fool them.”
     The Scotch went down very well indeed.
     He sat down in a big armchair and ran his hand through his hair. He was a distinguished-looking guy, with a big, fleshy face and good eyes. I should think he was getting on for fifty, but he was tough and as hard as teak. He pointed to another chair. “Sit down, Mason, and tell me how you're going to get me out of this.”
     I sat on the table so I could look down on him. “I guess you gotta start talkin' first,” I said. “I gotta find out just how things are. All I know is a shot was reported and the cops came up. After a little while they came out, told the boys there was nothing to it, and beat it. If the cops were satisfied, I guess there ain't anythin' to get worried about. You ain't just bein' cussed, are you, Colonel?”
     Kennedy took a long pull at his glass. “It's worse than anything like that,” he said. “It's a woman.”
     I hid a little grin. The Colonel was a good guy, but he'd got a way of making dames fall for him. He didn't do much to encourage them. He just sat around and smiled, and along they'd come.
     “Huh, huh,” I said. I wasn't going to commit myself.
     He finished up the Scotch, fidgeted with the glass, and scowled out of the window at the boys sitting on the grass about two hundred yards away. I didn't hurry him.
     “You know how it is,” he began, still looking out of the window.
     “Sure,” I said to encourage him.
     “I was crazy to have anything to do with this woman,” he said. “She's got big connections. There'll be a devil of a scandal if anything leaks out, and she can't afford that, nor can I.”
     I took his glass and mine and filled them up. The vices of the upper crust always interested me. I'd got enough inferior complexes for rich folk to think they always did their vices so much better than I did mine. I guess it was just a complex, because I've thought about it a great deal, and I never really could think how they did it better than I, but that was maybe because I hadn't enough imagination.
     “I've got to get her out of this place, and I don't know how the blazes I'm going to do it.”
     I nearly spilt the liquor. “You mean she's still here?” I said.
     He twisted his head and looked at me. “Of course she is,” he said, showing a little of his old temper. “Why do you think I'm sitting here, letting those fellows make a monkey out of me?”
     “Okay, Colonel,” I said. “I didn't get it. The jam is getting the lady away without the boys seein' her; that it?”