The savage salome (10 page)

Her hair was matted tight to her scalp and the sheath dress was plastered to her body like a second skin. She was shivering violently and her nose was a dull blue color.

"I wouldn't want you to catch cold, lover," I said kindly, then grabbed her wrist, jerking her off balance so she fell sprawling into Benny's lap just as the boat moved forward. They disappeared slowly into the dark channel and for maybe thirty seconds after they'd gone I could still hear Benny swearing in a savage monotone.

My watch was still working, living up to its waterproof guarantee. I stripped off my own wet clothes and used Benny's pocket handkerchief to get damp-dry. Then I dressed in his clothes and checked the time again. It was four minutes since their boat had left and that put them somewhere close to the middle of the lake, I figured.

The switchboard had a main circuit-breaker, so I yanked the handle down and—ain't science wonderful?— it worked. The dim blue lights faded suddenly and the clanking noise was heard no more. I walked out of the tunnel of love and carefully closed the door in the boarded-up front before I headed at a fast clip toward the outside gates.

Maybe five minutes later I climbed into Benny's car and pushed the key into the ignition. I am not normally a guy given to visions but right then I had one which accounted for the bhssful smile on my face. All I had to do was close my eyes and right away I could see them suspended in time, motionless in the middle of the lake,

and surrounded by darkness. Marge would be about half-dead with cold by now and she'd figure out there was just one way she could keep from freezmg to death—and Benny had it coming.

Chapter Eight

IT WAS NEARLY MmNIGHT WHEN I THUMBED

the buzzer of Margot Lynn's apartment. She answered on the fourth buzz. There was a sleepy look m her eyes like she'd just woken up, and it figured because she wore a slumber coat in champagne-colored silk with a fine frost of lace around the bustline.

"Oh," she grunted. "It's you."

I looked for the welcoming smile, the sudden awareness of my perfect but virile profile to widen her eyes. She yawned loudly and her hollow cheeks contrived to look more so. I generously figured she was sick.

"Can't it wait till morning?" she asked in a flat voice.

"No," I snarled, and pushed past her into the apartment.

Margot slammed the door violently, then followed me into the living room, a sullen expression on her face.

"I told you before, Danny," she said coldly, "I'm bushed. You woke me up already so now go home and let me get back to sleep. Today was bad enough but the opening tomorrow night will be worse, and I need to build up my reserves." She took a deep breath. "Fun is fun but not tonight—if I have to make myself painfully clear?"

"This won't take long," I told her. "All I want is a little conversation—and a drink."

She sank wearily onto the couch. "My God! You've got the hide of an elephant! All right, but make it quick, will you?"

I went over to the cellaret and made myself a generous bourbon on the rocks, took it across to the couch, and

sat down beside her. Margot glared at me, her arms folded under her breasts so the champagne silk was drawn tight across them.

"You have five minutes," she said stonily.

I recounted an average day in the life of Danny Boyd —from Donna Alberta in the Towers through Rex Ty-bolt in the steam bath to Earl Harvey in his office, and for the climax, a ride through the tunnel of love with Marge for company and Benny as coach.

Her dark eyes were wide awake when I finished.

"Danny!" She squeezed my arm compassionately. "That's horrible! Why don't you go to the police?"

"I need some proof to back the story," I said. "My guess is Harvey blackmailed Donna Alberta, Tybolt, and yourself, into singing for him. Donna got restless so he killed her Pekingese as a warning. Then she told Paul Kendall the truth and he threatened some action. The only way Harvey could stop him was to kill him."

"How are you going to get any proof?" she asked.

"Tybolt told me about the Acapulco caper because he hoped I might get hold of the pictures," I said gloomily. "I don't have them so he won't talk to the cops—he'll deny the whole story. The one thing I need is a signed statement by someone who is being blackmailed by Harvey. It looks like you're elected, Margot."

Her eyes were suddenly blank and she moved away from me, shrinking back against the arm of the couch.

"I'm sorry, Danny," she said with no inflection in her voice at all. "That's impossible."

"Are you out of your mind?" I growled. "You hired me to find the real killer—you were scared Lieutenant Chase had you set up as the favorite suspect. So I've found him —the murderer. AU I need is your signed statement to clinch the deal!"

She shook her head fiercely. "No—^you'll have to do it some other way."

"Goddamn it!" I said bitterly. "There isn't any other way—can't you see that?"

"Then make one!" she snapped. "If you want to collect that second thousand dollars."

I finished my drink, then stood up. "O.K. If you won't, I guess there's not much I can do about it. The last chance

I got is Donna Alberta." My laugh sounded disenchanted even to me. "I don't have tiie chance of getting past her front door!"

"It's your problem, Danny," Margot said inflexibly. "You figure it out!"

"Hey!" I brightened for a moment. "Kasplin's her manager—^he must know about it—maybe he'll go along with with me."

"Why don't you go find out?" she asked sweetly.

"I wouldn't know where to find him outside office hours," I groaned. "You think he curls up under his desk maybe?"

"It's a pleasure to speed you on your way, Danny," she said with an acid smile. "Kasplin lives in a West Side hotel—^the San Miguel."

"Thanks," I told her. "Maybe I'll get lucky and he'U give me a break."

Margot got up from the couch, walked over to the bureau, and took an envelope from the top drawer. She came back and gave it to me.

"What is this?" I looked at the envelope suspiciously. "A mezzo-soprano's farewell—in writing?"

She smiled sleepily. "Your ticket for the opening tomorrow night. I wouldn't want you to miss it."

I stopped when we reached the front door of the apartment and made one last try.

"It would still be a hell of a lot easier if you signed a statement I could give the cops," I said pleadingly. "What stops you?"

Margot sighed. "I guess you never wiU understand! My career means more to me than anything else—it's my whole life, Danny. I'm not going to risk blowing it sky high for you, the police, or anybody. You're right—Harvey did blackmail me into singing for him, but if that material was ever publicized it would finish my career. And that's a risk I won't take!"

"O.K.," I said. "You're wrong but I won't try convincing you, either."

"I'm glad of that," she said happily, "or I'd never get back to bed." Then she closed the door gently in my face.

I drove Benny's car across town and parked it directly in back of my own auto which was still sitting where I'd

left it. I left Benny's keys in the ignition because I figured if there was any justice someone would steal it. Then I got into my own car and headed for the San Miguel.

The hotel had a tired facade like an old dame who's been standing so long her arches have collapsed. There was a crummy look to the inside, like the decay had set in around the same time as Calvin Coolidge and nobody had figured out what to do about it yet. I got to the front desk and leaned the elbow of the shrunken Itahan-cut suit on it—for Benny I didn't mind.

The guy in back of the desk had heavily dyed black hair and a mustache to match. His eyes were sunk deep into the lined face and whatever it was they figured me for, I didn't like it. He was busy picking his teeth with a bent paper clip.

"Six bucks for a room," he said indifferently, "and we collect in advance."

"I wouldn't give you six bucks for the freehold," I assured him. "A guy called Kasplin lives here?"

"You know him, like personal?"

"I'm his best friend," I said. "That worry you?"

He shrugged his thin shoulders. "It's just that most of his other friends are people."

"How would you know?" I snarled.

"Three-two-six," he said carefully. "It's pretty late— you want me to call him?"

I still had Marge's knife stuck in my belt, so I took it out and flipped it up in the air. One thing about Marge— she didn't go for any of that cheap, homemade junk. The perfect balance ensured that the knife landed point-first and stuck quivering in the desk in front of the clerk's fascinated eyes.

"I want you should mind your own business, friend," I said casually, then jerked the knife out of the desk and stuck it back in my belt. "Or I might do a real job on those teeth for you!"

"It was just a thought," he gulped. "You want to make it a big surprise, it's fine by me."

I rode the creaking elevator up to the third floor and found 326 tucked away around a bend in the corridor. Three minutes later my knuckles were getting sore and I was about to break down the door when it opened slowly.

Kasplin stood there, glaring up at me with a cold fury etched on his face.

"I should have known," he said in that silvery, birdlike voice. "Who else would it be pounding on my door in the middle of the night!"

Even in a silk robe, he still looked immaculate; there wasn't a hair out of place on his gleaming head, which still looked much too big for the tiny body.

"Fm sorry," I apologized, "but it's urgent."

"Nothing is this urgent, Mr. Boyd," he said tightly. "Please go away or I'll call the desk and have you forcibly removed."

"You don't think I stay out nights visiting just for kicks?" I snarled at him. "I know who murdered Kendall, and you can help me clinch the deal."

"Really?" There was a polite sneer in his voice. "How much will it cost me this time, Mr. Boyd? Five hundred dollars for not finding the person responsible for killing Donna Alberta's dog—I doubt if I can afford to share your secret!"

"Don't make it tough just for the hell of it," I said. "The guy who killed Kendall—and the dog—is Earl Harvey."

He placed a delicate white hand against my chest and pushed gently. "Go away!" he snapped. "You're drunk, Boyd!"

"He blackmailed the singers into this off-Broadway deal," I said urgently. "Both Rex Tybolt and Margot Lynn have admitted as much—but they're too scared to make a statement to the police. I figured if you could persuade Donna Alberta to make a statement then—" I saw the blank look on his face and stopped suddenly.

"Donna Alberta?" he repeated gently. "Make a statement?—what about, Mr. Boyd?"

"Don't give me this routine!" I grated. "You must know she was blackmailed into the deal along with the others."

"I don't know anything of the sort," Kasplin said curtly. "It's either a figment of your distorted imagination, Boyd, or more likely you're drunk as I mentioned before."

"Look!" I glared at him. "You can't—"

A piercing shriek shredded the silence into small, jagged pieces. For a moment Kasplin's face mirrored my owuj

surprise, then a figment of my imagination materialized behind him.

"Oh my God!" the figment said in a shuddering voice. "There's a mouse back there!"

The shudder wasn't confined to her voice—that was where it started maybe, but it kept right on going in a deUcious kind of ripphng motion which finally engulfed her from head to foot. Slowly I realized she wasn't any product of my overheated mind, she was for real—a statuesque redhead nearly six feet taU even in her bare feet—and the last time I'd seen her was right in Kasplin's office.

She was stark naked and the free flowing curves upheld every bit of the promise they hinted at when clothed. The color of her face matched the color of her hair as she suddenly realized I was standing in the doorway watching her.

"Hi there, Maxine!" I said cheerfuUy. "Working hard on that duet?"

The redhead spun around and ran awkwardly back into the mouse-infested room that had caused all the trouble in the first place. Watching the fascinating action of her well-rounded hips made me realize I didn't feel tired after aU. Seeing so much of Maxine so suddenly not only gave my metabolism a shot in the right place—it cleared up something that had vaguely worried me that last couple of days. Each time I saw her and tried to make some time she'd called me **Big man!" and made it an insult. But now it figured.

"That's an awful lot of girl in the one package," I said wonderingly to Kaspfin, "and you don't even look tired."

His eyes blazed at me from a paper-white face, while his head started to shake uncontrollably.

"Get out!" he squeaked painfully. "Get out before I kill you, Boyd!"

The door slanmied shut an inch from my face, leaving me staring blindly at the wood panel. One more dent and my corporate image would be beyond the redemption of Madison Avenue even.

Around eleven the next morning I was up and finished with the shave-shower-get-dressed routine. Some vitaminized orange juice, mixed with honey and a shot of gin,

provided a lining for black coffee. I took the second cup over to the living room window and looked down at the Park.

The grass was turning brown and a strong breeze tumbled the falling leaves about like sabotaged paratroops. The fall is a sad time like they said in the Garden of Eden, with people busy dying or changing into heavier underwear. I was all set for some more philosophical thoughts but the irate squawk of the buzzer interrupted them.

I opened the front door and had company. They crowded in on me fast and I was back in the living room before I knew it. Earl Harvey with his lank hair falling down over his forehead and a cold viciousness in his eyes —Benny with a purple bruise down one side of his nose that marred the glossy blond perfection and his faded blue eyes bright with expectant mayhem.

"Nice of you to visit," I said brightly to Harvey, then looked at Benny. *T see you own two suits, kid. I'm surprised!"

He took a quick step toward me, then stopped as Harvey put a restraining hand on his arm.