You Never Know With Women Page 11

  With still a couple of hours to use up, I left the restaurant and drove over to the Paramount Film Studios and parked outside the main gates. In case you don’t know, this is as good a way as another to pass the time if you have time to pass. There is always a steady flow of nice-looking frails passing in and out, and they like being whistled at, and there’s always the possibility that Dorothy Lamour might appear in her sarong, but you mustn’t count on it. I saw a lot of cuties who looked like fun, but I was choosy that afternoon. It had to be Lamour or nobody: it turned out to be nobody.

  While I waited and leered out of the car window, I made plans for the future. Before very long I should have in my pocket a roll worth twenty-five grand; and that’s a lot of dough. After a little thought I decided I’d take Veda to Miami. I’ve always wanted to go to Miami and act the way millionaires act. I felt it would be good for my general state of health and my inferiority complex. I’d been a poor, trashy dick too long.

  Taking a broad view of the whole set-up, I failed to see where I could go wrong. Boyd would have to hand over the dagger: he couldn’t help himself, unless he wanted a stretch in jail. Brett would hand over the twenty-five grand. He had given his word, and when a guy of his standing gives his word, he keeps it. I thought it would be nice to lie about on golden sands with Veda in a swim suit. She had the kind of figure a swim suit likes. I told myself as soon as Brett paid up, I’d nip into a travel agency and book a couple of seats in the first aircraft out to Miami the following day.

  Time was getting on now. Maybe someone had tippedLamour I was waiting outside. I regretfully started the engine and drove away. The clock on the dashboard of the Cadillac said it was two minutes to four o’clock when I pulled up outside the Wiltshire Building again. There wasn’t going to be any nonsense this time. I was coming out with the dagger or else. I shot my cuffs, tipped my hat to a more becoming angle and strode across the sidewalk, through the revolving doors to the elevator.

  No young women sat in the four rows of armchairs when I paused outside Gorman’s double glass doors. The cute blonde trick sat huddled up by her switchboard and her mouth was closed. She sprang off her seat when I pushed open the doors and clutched at the rail that penned her in.

  “The same name and the same guy,” I said, wondering what was eating her. She appeared to be suffering from shock, and her face was the colour of a freshly laundered sheet. I didn’t know whether she’d been caught dipping into the petty cash or whether it was due to seeing me again.

  “Go in.” The words popped out of her as if someone had suddenly kicked her sharply with a nail-studded boot. She waved to Gorman’s door, then grabbed up her hat and coat that was lying on a chair, jerked open the little gate and bolted to the swing doors.

  I turned to watch her hurried flight. She didn’t wait for the elevator, but scooted down the stairs as if she’d heard someone was giving nylons away free on the floor below.

  The outer office seemed very quiet and empty without her. I looked at the closed door that led to Gorman’s office. I looked at the four rows of vacant armchairs, and I had a feeling that things were not what they seemed. My hand slid around to my hip pocket to clutch my gun when a voice with a tin larynx said, “Hold it, mug!”

  I looked cautiously over my shoulder. A lean, tall bird in a grey check suit stood behind the last row of armchairs. That would account for the blonde trick’s agitation. He had been snooping there out of sight, waiting for me to arrive. The face under the black slouch hat was better shaved than the face of a rat, but not so attractive to look at.

  “Speaking to me?” I asked and was careful not to make a sudden move. The hood looked nervous, and by the whiteness of his knuckle I knew he’d taken in all the trigger slack there was to be taken in.

  “Get in there,” he said and pointed to Gorman’s office. “And watch it.”

  It crossed my mind that I might not be going to Miami after all, and was glad I hadn’t been impulsive and bought the tickets. I hate throwing good money away. Reluctantly I pushed open Gorman’s door, went in, followed by the hood.

  Parker, or Boyd as I’d better call him now, sat in Gorman’s chair. He looked very cold and distant and contemptuous. Standing by the window was another tough who nursed a bluenose automatic. He was short and fat and shabby, and looked like any second-rate gunsel in any third-rate movie. Cornelius Gorman was conspicuous by his absence.

  “Hello, pally,” I said to Boyd. “How’s your poor head?”

  “This is the one time you’ve been too smart and too tricky, Jackson,” he said. There was a lot of vinegar in his voice. “I’m not going to waste time talking to you. You’re not getting the dagger, and you’re not leaving this room alive. You’re going to answer a question, and then you’re going to have a little accident. You can answer the question right away or I’ll force it out of you. You can please yourself, but whichever way you decide you’re going head first out of that window as soon as you’ve answered it.”

  Being tossed out of an eighth-floor window wasn’t my idea of fun, but it didn’t seem worth while to tell him so.

  “That won’t get you anywhere,” I said as calmly as I could. “I told Fatso I’ve left a statement. It’ll be in Redfern’s hands if anything happens to me, and then a lot of things will happen to you.”

  He sneered distantly.

  “I don’t think so. After we’ve dealt with you, we’ll destroy the statement if it exists, but I very much doubt if it does.”

  “Now why didn’t I think of that?” I said, wondering if I could get my gun out before the lean bird filled me with lead. I doubted it. “Of course you’ll have to find it first, and by then it may be too late.”

  “That brings me to my question. Where is Veda Rux?”

  The lean bird must have been a thought-reader. He poked his gun into my spine and lifted my gun out of my hip pocket.

  “You won’t need this any more, lug,” he said in my ear.

  “Where is Veda Rux?” Boyd repeated. He was very frigid and controlled, but I didn’t like the blank look in his eyes.

  “Where you won’t get your paws on her,” I told him.

  “I’m used to making men talk. Have you ever been hit on the head with a rubber hose? It hurts and doesn’t leave marks. I’ll use your skull for a drum if you don’t answer that question.”

  The fat tough pushed himself away from the window and yanked out a tube of solid rubber. He balanced it thoughtfully in his hand and looked mean enough to use it.

  It occurred to me that this wasn’t the place to let off a lot of guns. The Wiltshire Building was packed with respectable people who would want to know what was cooking if a heater popped off, and besides, these shabby hoods annoyed me. I hoped the lean bird had also considered the folly of making a noise, and I spun around and took a sock at his jaw.

  A lot of things happened at once. The lean bird crashed to the floor, the fat tough came at me like a charging buffalo, Boyd kicked back his chair and stood up, and the door opened and Lu Farrel wandered in, gun in hand.

  “Hello,” he said to me, “are these boys bothering you?”

  I ducked under the sap and hit the fat tough very hard in the middle of his vest. He went reeling away, tripped over a chair and sat heavily. The lean bird cursed and struggled to his feet. A long, shiny sticker jumped into his hand. There was a soft pop! and the sticker fell to the floor. The lean bird stared at his shattered hand, then let out a howl that rattled the windows.

  Lu waved his gun at Boyd and the fat tough. There was an efficient-looking silencer screwed to the barrel.

  “Don’t be hasty,” he implored them and fluttered his Bambi eyes at them. “Look what I’ve done to your little pal.”

  I took a quick step up to Boyd and hit him.

  He fell over backwards, and I snatched up a desk lamp and smashed it down on top of him. I threw the onyx ash-tray and a couple of big photographs of nude cuties at him, and looked around for something else to hit him with. I was feelin
g pretty mean by this time. I didn’t doubt he would have pitched me out of that window if he’d had the chance, and that gave me a rush of blood to the head.

  Lu sniggered.

  “Don’t lose your temper,” he said, and waved his gun at the fat tough, who had got to his feet and was now standing awkwardly against the wall like a wallflower at a party.

  I clutched hold of Boyd’s collar and hauled him to his feet. He spat at me and tried to claw my face, but I brushed his hands aside and socked him again. Then I shook him back and forth and slammed him down in the desk chair. He sat gasping, most of the fight knocked out of him, but to make sure, I hauled off and belted him in the jaw so he and the chair went over backwards. That finished him. He lay as still as death. I went over and looked at him, then dusted myself down, eased my muscles and shot my cuffs. I felt a lot better.

  “Hello,” I said to Lu. “Where did you spring from?”

  “Mick told me to follow you round,” he said and simpered. “I saw Dorothy Lamour. She came out two minutes after you left, and that lovely man Crosby was with her.”

  “Was she wearing her sarong?” I asked, stiffening to attention.

  “Not her sarong,” Lu said, shocked. “She had on a nifty scroll-shouldered suit of shark-skin worsted. You should have seen it.” He cast a pensive look at the lean bird, who continued to bleed on to the carpet. “Were you thinking of leaving?” he asked me. “Or shall we rough up these boys some more?”

  “I’m leaving,” I said and went over to Boyd. I hauled him to his feet. He cringed away from me.

  “Where’s the dagger?” I demanded, waving my fist at him. His bruised face was slack with rage and fright.

  “At my place,” he mumbled and tried to pull away.

  “Then that’s where we’re going.” I shoved him towards the door, jerked my head at Lu. “I’ll feel safe with you around. Come on, gorgeous, keep me company.”

  We left the fat tough staring bleakly at the thin bird. Neither of them showed any further interest in us.

  I caught hold of Boyd’s arm and walked him to the elevator. Lu kept close.

  “Any more tricks from you,” I said to Boyd as we waited for the elevator, “and I’ll turn you over to Redfern.”

  He leaned up against the wall and dabbed at his face with his handkerchief. He was too tired and too hurt to be dangerous.

  We rode down to the street level. The elevator attendant kept staring at Boyd’s face, but he was too well trained to pass remarks or maybe he didn’t like the scowl I gave him.

  We crossed the sidewalk and I shoved Boyd into the back of the car, got in beside him.

  “You drive,” I said to Lu.

  Boyd gave me the address in a shaky voice. I didn’t even have to ask him.

  We drove along Wiltshire and Santa Monica Boulevards to Beverly Hills. Boyd’s place was on Mulholland Drive. We shot up a long driveway, skirting a lawn big enough for a polo field, to an impressive-looking house that could have been Buckingham Palace if it had a couple more rooms.

  “Come on,” I said to Lu as he pulled up outside the massive front door. “I’m not taking any chances with this punk. If he acts funny crack him over the noggin with the gun.”

  But Boyd was past acting funny. He could scarcely walk, and we had to help him up the steps to the front door and into a lobby the size of an aircraft hangar.

  “The dagger,” I said sharply, “and make it snappy.”

  A white-headed old gentleman who looked like a bishop and acted like a butler materialized. He gaped at Boyd, started forward, stopped when he ran into my scowl.

  “Tell him to go launch a ship,” I said to Boyd.

  “It’s all right, John,” Boyd said, waving at him. “Go away.” The old gentleman hesitated, then stalked off down the passage, his back stiff with disapproval.

  “Come on, Dominic,” I said, poking Boyd in the ribs. “Let’s have the dagger. This atmosphere’s too rich for me.”

  He took us into a nearby room, opened a safe and produced the dagger case. He handed it to me without a word, but his taut, white face spoke volumes. I opened the case, stared down at the dagger, snapped the case shut before Lu could see it. It was a pretty toy, and I didn’t want Lu to get ideas about it.

  “Right,” I said. “I’m handing this over to Brett. Keep out of my way and you’ll hear nothing more about it, but if you start anything I’ll let Brett know you stole it, and you can guess what he’ll do to you.”

  “Get out!” Boyd snarled and sank into a chair, his face in his hands. That’s the way we left him. He was a pretty tough guy so long as you didn’t hit him, but a punch or two broke him up. The beating I had given him made him look like a jigsaw puzzle someone had spilt on the floor.

  We got back to Casy’s joint a few minutes before seven o’clock, and before going up to Veda I gave Lu a little speech in which I called him a number of flattering names and thanked him for taking care of me. Then before he could fall on my neck, I slid into the elevator and hurriedly shut the door.

  I found Joe playing a patience game outside the front door of the penthouse. When he saw me, he scooped up the cards, stood up and stretched himself.

  “And am I glad to see you again,” he said with a grin. “Brother, this nurse-maid stuff sure gives me a pain.”

  “Any trouble?” I asked and nodded to the front door.

  “Nothing I couldn’t deal with,” he said smugly and handed me the key. “She raised Cain at first, but when I offered to sock her, she quieted down. It’s the only way to treat dames. You can’t talk to ‘em; you’ve got to sock ‘em, then they act nice.”

  “I guess you’re right. I’m going out again at eight-thirty. I want you to take over when I’ve gone.”

  “For the love of Pete!” he exclaimed. “What’s the sense? She can’t get out. Why should I waste my time sitting out here?”

  “That’s something you can discuss with Mick. I want you out here tonight, but I can’t make you if you won’t.”

  He shrugged in disgust.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll be here at eight-thirty. Anything you say,” and he went into the elevator and slammed the door.

  I found Veda lying on the settee. There was a highball on the table near her and a pile of picture magazines lay on the floor. It looked as if Joe had given her service as well as threats.

  She was still wearing the pale-blue pyjamas, and in the bright light that flooded down on her from the reading lamp they were interestingly transparent.

  “Oh, so you’re back,” she said, laid down her magazines and stared up at me.

  “That’s right, I’m back,” I said. “Have you been all right?”

  “A little tired of my own company. Do we go out tonight or have I still to be Monte Cristo in his dungeon?”

  “Not tonight. Tomorrow night perhaps. Tonight I have things to do.”

  “What have you been doing today?”

  I made myself a highball.

  “I’ve been getting around. I missed seeing Dorothy Lamour by two minutes. It didn’t matter: she wasn’t wearing her sarong.”

  “You may think you’re bright and funny, but I don’t.” There was a hard note in her voice. “I think you’re a small-time dick who’s peeped through so many keyholes his brains have been blown away by the draught.”

  “That’s exactly what I thought until this afternoon,” I said, coming to sit by her side on the settee. “Then I changed my opinion.”

  “Did you? I wonder why?”

  I lapped down half the highball, set the glass on the table. “Did you sleep-walk when you were a kid or is this something new?”

  The lapis-lazuli eyes hardened; the full red lips tightened. “Still trying to be funny?”

  “Maybe. Depends what you call funny.” I finished the highball, then lit a cigarette. “Take a look at this.” I fished out the red leather case, opened it and laid the dagger in her lap.

  There was a long awkward silence. She didn’t touch the dagger;
she didn’t move; she didn’t seem to breathe.

  “Now suppose you tell me the story as it happened,” I said. “I’ve seen Brett. If I give him back the dagger no one gets into trouble. I’m going out there at ten o’clock tonight. He’s paying me a nice little sum for returning this bauble, and if you play pretty, I’ll take you along with me on a vacation. Only I’m curious to know what happened at Brett’s place before Gorman came to see me. So suppose you get it off your chest, and this time tell me the truth.”

  She pushed the dagger away with a little grimace.

  “How did you get it?”

  “From Boyd. You knew Parker was Boyd, didn’t you?” She said she did.

  “He handed it over when assured Brett wasn’t looking for trouble. All Brett wants is the dagger. He doesn’t care a hoot what happens to you or Gorman or Boyd. He doesn’t even know any of you figure in this.”

  “He will if he finds my compact,” she said uneasily.

  “He won’t find it. I took it from the safe and hid it in the wings of a stone griffin at the head of the terrace. I’ll pick it up when I leave him tonight and you can have it back if you want it.”

  She clutched hold of my arm.

  “You really mean that?”

  “Why, sure. You’ve made too much fuss about the compact. Don’t worry about it. Now listen. I like you. You have your funny ways, but I like you in spite of them. I was thinking you and me might take a trip to Miami and spend some money. Would you like that?”

  She stared at me for a long moment, then suddenly laughed. And this time she laughed as if she meant it.

  “Why, I’d love it. If only I was sure you weren’t kidding.”

  “I’m no kidder, and I’ll prove it.”

  I went over to the telephone and put through a call to the Pan-American Airways. “When I got my connection I booked two seats on the eleven o’clock ‘plane to Greater Miami. I gave the name as Mr. and Mrs. Floyd Jackson.

  Her eyes were very bright and excited when I sat down at her side again.

  “There it is,” I said and took her hand. “If that doesn’t clinch it, I give up. Now come on, let’s have it.”