No Orchids for Miss Blandish (7 page)

Some dish, he thought I wouldn't mind being shipwrecked with her.

He crossed the road and entered the drugstore. He shut himself in the telephone booth. Then hanging a handkerchief over the mouthpiece of the telephone to muffle the sound of his voice, he dialed the number he had got from Miss Blandish and waited.

He didn't have to wait long. A voice said, "Hello? This is John Blandish talking. Who is it, please?"

"Listen carefully, pal," Eddie said, making his voice hard and tough. "We've got your daughter. If you want her back, call off the cops. We want a million dollars for her. Get the money together in used bills, no bill larger than a hundred and put the money in a white suitcase. You'll get delivery instructions tomorrow. Got all that?"

"Yes." Blandish's voice was strained and anxious. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine and she'll remain fine just so long as you do what you're told. If you try anything smart she's in for a bad time and when I say bad, I mean bad. I don't have to draw you a blue-print. You can imagine what'll happen to her before we rub her out. It's up to you, pal. She'll be okay just as long as you do what we tell you. If you don't, you'll get her back very soiled--and very dead!" He slammed down the receiver arid walked quickly out of the drugstore, grinning to himself.

Across the road, as he again waited for a gap in the traffic, he saw the blonde girl still waiting at the bus stop. She glanced at him and then away. Eddie fingered his tie. He thought it was too bad he had to report back to Ma. He crossed the road and again looked at the girl, ready to smile at her, but she wasn't looking at him. He moved to the cigar store and paused to look back. The girl was coming towards him. He stood waiting. She didn't look at him. As she passed close to him, a white card fluttered out of her hand and fell at his feet. She neither paused nor looked at him. He stared after her, watching the sensuous movement of her hips, then he picked up the card. On it was scribbled:
243, Palace Hotel, West.

He pushed his hat to the back of his head, surprised. He hadn't taken the girl for a hooker. He was vaguely disappointed. He looked after her and was in time to see her get into a taxi. He watched the taxi drive away, then he slipped the card under the strap of his wrist watch. Maybe when he had a little more time, he thought, entering the cigar store, he'd call on her.

"All fixed," he said to Woppy. "Let's get out of here."

Woppy finished his drink, paid the barman and the two men walked down the street to where Eddie had parked the Buick. A Ford had just pulled into a parking space across the road. Two powerfully built men were in the car. Both of them were staring at Eddie and Woppy.

"Feds," Woppy said without moving his lips.

Eddie unlocked the Buick. He could feel cold sweat on his face. They got into the car. Both of them took tremendous care to seem casual. The two men in the Ford still watched them. Eddie started the car and drove into the stream of traffic.

"Don't look back," he warned Woppy.

After a few minutes, they relaxed.

"Those punks give me the shakes," Eddie said. "The less I have to do with them, the better my blood pressure."

"You can say that again," Woppy said with feeling. "This town's crawling with them."

They arrived back as Flynn was getting out of a battered Dodge. The three men went into Ma's room.

"Okay?" she asked Flynn.

"Yeah. No trouble at all," he said. "No one was around. I didn't even have to get out of the car. He came out to fill my tank; when he had filled it, I let him have it. Nothing to it."

Ma nodded. She looked at Eddie.

"I told him," Eddie said. "I didn't give him a chance to talk back, but he knows what to expect if he starts anything smart. The town's full of Feds, Ma. The heat's on good." He tossed the newspaper onto the table. "Nothing in that we don't already know. Heinie's been to the cops. He's told them Bailey was asking questions about the necklace. The cops are hunting for him and Riley."

"I reckoned that would happen," Ma said with her wolfish grin. "So long as they don't dig up those stiffs, we'll be in the clear. This is working out right."

"When the girl's returned," Eddie said seriously, "we'll be in trouble. She'll talk."

Ma stared at him.

"What makes you think she's going to be returned?"

"Yeah." Eddie shook his head. He glanced at Woppy who grimaced. "Seems a hell of a waste of a woman."

"To hell with her!" Flynn broke in savagely. "We've got to think of ourselves."

"Who's going to do it?" Eddie said. "Not me!"

"Nor me," Woppy said.

"Doc will give her a shot in the arm when she's asleep," Ma said. "If he won't, I will."

"When?" Flynn asked.

"When I'm good and ready," Ma snapped. "You leave me to worry about that."

Eddie sat down and poured himself a drink.

"Say, Ma, let's have another look at the necklace. I didn't get a chance to look at it properly."

"It's in the safe," Ma lied. "Some other time." To change the subject, she asked, "Why don't one of you lazy slobs get dinner ready?"

Woppy got to his feet.

"Oh, hell! Spaghetti again!" Eddie groaned. "Hey, Flynn, can't you cook?"

Flynn grinned.

"As good as you," he said.

Eddie lifted his shoulders in despair.

"What we want around here is a woman."

"And that's what you're not going to have," Ma said coldly, "Get going, Woppy. I want my dinner."

Eddie had taken the card he had picked up from under his watch strap. He read the address again. He thought of the girl. He decided he'd call on her that night. He turned the card and noticed for the first time there was a message written on it.

He read the message, then with a startled curse, he jumped to his feet. Written in a feminine hand were the words:
What have you done with Frankie Riley?

As a street clock was striking eleven, the Buick slid to a standstill near the Palace Hotel. Eddie and Flynn got out, leaving Woppy at the wheel.

"Stick around," Eddie said. "If you see any cops, move off, but keep circling. We may need you in a hurry."

"Rather you than me," Woppy said and stuck a cigarette on his lip.

Eddie and Flynn walked quickly down the street to the hotel entrance. It wasn't much of a place. They walked into the lobby which was empty. Behind the desk dozed a fat, elderly man in his shirt sleeves. He blinked open his eyes as Eddie came up.

"You want a room?" the man asked hopefully, getting to his feet.

"No. Who's in 243?" Eddie asked curtly.

The man stiffened.

"Can't give you information like that," he said.

"You'd better call around tomorrow morning and ask at the desk."

Flynn took out his gun and shoved it into the man's face.

"You heard what the guy said, didn't you?" he snarled.

The man's face went white at the sight of the gun. With trembling hands, he thumbed through the register. Eddie snatched it from him. He ran his finger quickly down the list of numbers.

"Anna Borg," he said when he arrived at No 243. "Who's she?" He noted the rooms either side of 243 were vacant.

Flynn slid the gun in his hand and held it by the barrel. He reached forward and clubbed the man on top of his head. The man slid down behind the counter. Eddie craned his neck to look at him.

"You shouldn't have hit him that hard," he said. "He looks like a family man. Better tie him up."

Flynn went around and tied the man's hands behind him with the man's tie. Leaving him behind the counter, they walked over to the elevator and rode up to the second floor.

"You stay here," Eddie said, "and watch the stairs. I'll call on the dame."

He started off down the passage, looking for room 243.

He found it at the far end of the passage. He listened, his ear against the door panel. Then he drew his gun and stepped into the dark room. He shut the door, groped for the light switch and turned it on.

He looked around. The small room was empty and untidy. Clothes were scattered on the bed and chair. He recognized the yellow dress the girl had been wearing hanging over the chair back. The dressing table was crowded with cosmetic bottles. The contents of a large powder box had been tipped onto the carpet. When he was satisfied no one was in the room and there was nowhere for anyone to hide, he opened drawers but found nothing to interest him. He wondered where the girl had got to. He left the room, shutting the door and joined Flynn at the head of the stairs. "She isn't around."

"Let's get out of here," Flynn said. "The room next to hers is empty," Eddie said. "We'll wait in there. She may come back."

"How about the guy downstairs? What happens if someone finds him?"

"I'll worry about that when he's found," Eddie said. "Come on."

They went silently down the passage to room 241, opened the door and entered. Eddie left the door open a couple of inches. He stood by the door while Flynn went and lay on the bed.

Minutes dragged by. Then just when he was beginning to think he was wasting his time, Eddie heard a sound that alerted him and brought Flynn off the bed and to the door. Both men peered through the crack in the door.

The door exactly opposite room 243 was opening slowly. A girl appeared and looked up and down the passage. Eddie recognized her immediately: she was the blonde he had seen in the street. Before he could make up his mind what to do, she had come out, shut the door and then had run across the passage and into room 243. They heard the door shut and the key turn.

"That the dame?" Flynn asked, breathing hard down Eddie's neck. "Yeah."

"Nice," Flynn said. "What's she been up to?"

Eddie opened the door wide and moved into the passage.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out. You go to the stairs."

Flynn went off down the passage.

Eddie crossed to the opposite door. He turned the handle and pressed. The door opened. He looked into darkness. He listened, heard nothing. He entered the room.

He turned on the light switch, then he caught his breath sharply. A short fat man lay on the floor. Blood was running from a wound in his head. He had been shot. Eddie didn't have to go closer to see the man was dead.

Ma Grisson had been brooding for some time. There was an expression on her face that warned Doc Williams not to bother her. Doc was playing solitaire. He kept looking at Ma, wondering what was going on in her mind. After a while her stillness got on his nerves and he put down his cards.

"Is there anything worrying you, Ma?" he asked cautiously.

"You get on with your game and leave me alone," Ma growled.

Doc lifted his shoulders. He got up and went to the front door, opened it and looked into the moonlit darkness. Lighting a cigar, he sat on the top step.

Ma suddenly got to her feet as if she had finally made up her mind. She went over to a cupboard and took from it a length of rubber hose.

Doc heard her movements and he looked around. He saw her climbing the stairs and he saw the rubber hose in her hand. He wondered vaguely what she was doing with it.

Ma Grisson went along the passage to the front room. She unlocked the door and entered the room. It was a small room. The window was covered with planks. There was only a chair, a small table and a mirror on the wall in the room. The threadbare carpet was dirty.

Ma shut the door and looked at Miss Blandish who was sitting up in bed, her eyes wide with alarm. In place of a nightgown she was wearing her slip. Ma sat on the bed. The springs sagged under her great weight.

"I've something to say to you," she said. "Have you ever been hit with a thing like this?" She held up the rubber hose.

Miss Blandish shook her head. She had just woken up out of a troubled sleep. This visit seemed a continuation of her nightmare.

"It hurts," the old woman said. She hit Miss Blandish on her knee. Although the blanket absorbed some of the blow, it stung. Miss Blandish stiffened. The sleepy look went out of her eyes. She struggled up in bed, clenching her fists; her eyes flashing angrily.

"Don't you dare touch me again!" she said breathlessly.

Ma Grisson grinned. Her big white teeth made her look wolfish and strangely like her son.

"So what would you do?"

She grabbed Miss Blandish's wrists in one of her huge hands. She sat grinning as the girl wrenched and pulled in a useless attempt to get free.

"Don't kid yourself," Ma said. "I may be old, but I'm much stronger than you. Now I'm going to take some of the starch out of you. Then we'll have a talk."

Downstairs, Doc, still sitting on the step, saw Woppy get out of the Buick and come towards him.

"Eddie back yet?" Woppy asked.

"No. What's happened?"

Woppy pushed past Doc and went into the sitting room. Doc followed him. Woppy picked up a bottle, held it up to the light, then threw it across the room in disgust.

"Isn't there ever anything to drink in this joint?"

Doc went to the cupboard and opened a new bottle of Scotch.

"What's happened to Eddie?" he asked as he made two stiff drinks.

"I don't know," Woppy said, taking one of the drinks. "We went to the hotel and he and Flynn went in. I hung around, then I saw a couple of cops. I moved off, circled the block and when I got back, I heard shooting. More cops started arriving so I beat it."

"Sounds as if Eddie's walked into trouble."

Woppy shrugged. He emptied his glass.

"He can take care of himself. I should worry." He paused and cocked his head on one side. "What's that?"

Doc stiffened and looked uneasily up at the ceiling.

"Sounds like the girl screaming."

"I'll go up and see," Woppy said, starting for the door.

"Better not," Doc said. "Ma's with her."

The two men listened to the high-pitched screaming for a moment, then Woppy, grimacing, went over to the radio and turned it on. The sudden blast of jazz drowned out the screams.

"Maybe I'm getting soft," Woppy said, wiping his face with his handkerchief, "but there are times when that bitch makes me sick to my stomach."