1945 - Blonde's Requiem Read online

  “I don’t know how you guys feel about this,” I said, pushing back my chair so I could rest my feet on the desk, “but I’ve got a free hand for seven days and in that time I’m going to bust this case or know the reason why. Maybe you don’t want to be mixed up in it. All you’ll get out of it is a front-row seat and a scoop that ought to put the Gazette in the gravy for the rest of its days. It may be tough going. It probably will be tough going, but you’ll be doing something that’ll benefit the town. It depends how you feel about it.”

  They looked at me expectantly. “What have we got to do?” Reg asked. “You can count me in so long as I know what’s wanted.”

  “We’ve got to pry the lid off this town,” I said. “We can do it easily enough, but that’s only the beginning of it. We have to find Audrey Sheridan and get that photograph off her. With that we’ll try to pin Dixon’s murder on Starkey’s mob. By that time things ought to start popping, and it’s when things are popping I hope we’ll turn up these missing girls. I’m keeping out of sight for a day or so, but there are things you can do if you want to. For instance, I want to know if Dixon’s body has been removed from the morgue and whether it’s been taken to. Esslinger’s. Then I want to know what the police are doing about Mary Drake.” I looked across at Latimer. “You could do that. See Macey and interview him. Let him think you’re on his side, but get anything useful out of him.” I turned to Marian. “See Ted Esslinger. He ought to know if Audrey’s been in touch with his father. After all, she can’t ignore her client forever. I want to find her badly. I want a line on Edna Wilson. There’s something phoney about her.” I paused to light a cigarette. “And I want to know where Jeff Gordan was on the night Dixon was killed.”

  Reg said: “Okay, we’ll handle it.” He looked at Latimer, who nodded.

  “How about the Gazette?” I asked. “Can you fit all this in and run the Gazette at the same time?”

  “The bulk of the copy is syndicated features and news,” Rex explained. “The stuff goes straight to the printing shop and the news editor handles it on the spot. We just cover the local news from here. We can do that all right.”

  “Off you go then,” I said. “Marian covers Esslinger and Edna Wilson. Reg checks on Dixon’s funeral and Audrey. You,” to Latimer, “see Macey. Dig into it. I want action now and I’m going to get it. We’ll meet here at seven o’clock and see what you’ve got.”

  They said they would do that.

  “If anything breaks, get me on the telephone. I’ll be here all day. If any of you see Audrey, hang on to her and as soon as you’ve run her to ground give me a call. I want that dame more than anybody.”

  When they had gone I wrote another report to Colonel Forsberg. Every operative who worked for the Colonel had to turn in a daily report. The idea was sound, as it showed the operative what progress he was making and also it helped to clear up points he might have otherwise overlooked.

  After I had read the report through, one particular thing struck me —the Street-Camera angle was a phoney.

  I lit a cigarette and brooded about it. The more I brooded the more phoney it became. I had no idea how Starkey was selecting the girl to be kidnapped—always assuming that he was responsible for the kidnapping. If he was responsible, then in theory the idea of getting one of his gang to take the girl’s photograph and give her an address to collect it and then kidnap her when she arrived was a good one. But good only in theory. The girl might not bother to collect the photograph. That was one obvious point. If she did and she was kidnapped, how did they get her away from the building? Why was the picture of Mary Drake exhibited in the window on the day she was kidnapped? Something was wrong with this theory, but I couldn’t get at it.

  I finally gave up in disgust and spent the rest of the morning lying on my bed, dozing and thinking. It was no use showing myself on the streets, I argued. If Macey and Starkey thought I had left town I might be able to spring a surprise on them. What kind of surprise it would be I had no idea, but it seemed to me as I dozed off that any kind of surprise was something.

  * * *

  I woke to find Reg bending dyer me, a look of irritation on his worldly-wise young face.

  I blinked, yawned and sat up. “Don’t think I was asleep,” I said, swinging my legs off the bed and running my fingers through my hair. “That’s just the way I think. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since you’ve been away.”

  “I bet you have,” he said sarcastically. “And I’ve been tramping my feet down to my knees.”

  I looked at my watch. It was just after three o’clock. “Hell!” I said, startled.

  “I didn’t know it was as late as this. I haven’t had any lunch.”

  “Never mind about your lunch,” Reg returned. “I’ve got news.”

  “Sit down and tell me,” I said, picking up the telephone. I called a drugstore across the street.

  “Audrey Sheridan’s in town,” he said. “I’ve just seen her.”

  “What are you doing here then?” I said, looking at him sharply. “Why didn’t you tail her?” Before he could reply the drugstore came on the line and I ordered sandwiches and a half pint of bourbon. “Go on,” I said, as I hung up.

  “I didn’t have a chance,” he returned in disgust. “She was in a taxi. It was moving fast and she looked out of the window as it passed me. By the time I’d found a cab she was out of sight. I cruised around looking for her, but it was hopeless. She was going too fast.”

  I lit a cigarette and went over to the desk. “Well, I guess it’s something to know she’s still around. If Starkey knows she has the photograph, her life won’t be worth a dime.”

  “That goes for you too,” Reg said, sitting down in an armchair and resting his feet on the bed.

  “Yeah, only my life’s worth a lot more than a dime to me,” I reminded him.

  “What else did you find out? How about Dixon?”

  “Can’t you guess?” Reg said. “The old story. Esslinger sent a hearse for it, the hearse caught fire and all that’s left of Dixon is a handful of ashes and a few charred bones. I’d have been in sooner only I had to go over to the printing shop and get the news on the front page. No one knows how the fire started. The hearse suddenly went up like a furnace. The driver was lucky enough to get out with a whole skin.”

  I grunted. “Clever,” I said. “Yeah, that was smart. It makes the picture all the more important to me as well as Starkey. Once the picture’s destroyed it lets Starkey out.”

  “We ain’t sure Starkey did kill Dixon, are we?” Reg asked.

  “Near enough,” I returned. “Either he or Jeff must have killed him. There’s something I can’t figure out about the Street-Camera Studio. It might be someone was trying to frame the kidnappings on to Starkey. Dixon had those photographs, don’t forget. Suppose he -was putting a squeeze on Starkey?”

  Reg looked puzzled. “What sort of squeeze?”

  “I don’t know. If I knew that I’d be getting somewhere. But suppose Dixon was blackmailing Starkey about the photographs, wouldn’t that be motive enough for Starkey or one of his mob to kill him?”

  “Yeah, I suppose it would,” Reg said doubtfully. “I don’t think you’re on it yet. Maybe you’re nearly there, but I don’t think it’s right.”

  “I know,” I said, scratching my head, “but I’ll get around to it. Suppose you go over to Esslinger’s and see if you can pick up Marian? Tell her you’ve seen Audrey. She might run into her.”

  Reg said he’d do that and took himself off.

  A few minutes later a boy came with the sandwiches and the bourbon and I settled down to eat.

  Except for a few telephone calls from people I didn’t know the rest of the afternoon passed peacefully enough. I smoked, finished the bourbon and generally idled the time away. I had no idea what I was going to do when it got dark, but I knew I would have to do something. It depended on what the others brought in.

  Just before seven o’
clock Reg and Latimer arrived. I was sitting at the desk as they came into the office.

  “Gee!” Reg said. “I thought I’d find you still asleep.”

  “That’s only because I’m setting a good example,” I said, waving them to chairs. “Where’s Marian?”

  “She’ll be along,” Latimer said, swinging his legs over the arm of the chair and lighting a cigarette. “Nice dame that. I could go for her in a big way if she thought along the same lines as I do.”

  Reg scowled at him. “Lay off, you lug,” he said fiercely. “She’s my secretary, and I don’t stand for bums horning in.”

  “Skip it, you two,” I said. “Let’s hear what Latimer’s got to report.”

  He shook his head. “Not much. I saw Macey. He fed me the same old bull. The police expect to turn up the missing girls any minute now. I could tell by the way he said it he was lying. He now admits that there is a kidnapper at work and says that Wolf s at the bottom of it trying to stir up trouble for his department.”

  “He didn’t?”

  Latimer nodded. “Yeah, but he thought I was his pal, otherwise he wouldn’t have said it.”

  “Tomorrow we’ll spread that right across the front page. ‘ Police Chief Says Industrial Magnate Faked Kidnapping’. ‘Missing girls expected to be found today’,” I said, looking at Reg. “Then we’ll quote Macey just as he said it to Latimer. If that doesn’t start something, I give up.”

  Latimer scratched his head. “I don’t know what he’ll do to me,” he said mournfully, “but if that’s the way you want to play it, it’s okay with me.”

  I turned to Reg. “Get something out along those lines and see what it looks like. Snap to it, brother.”

  Reg went into the outer office and a moment or so later I could hear the whir of a typewriter.

  “Anything on Jeff Gordan?” I asked Latimer.

  “He was playing poker at Lefty’s until one o’clock,” he told me, “and then he went home. No one went with him and he would have to pass the old Cranville Gazette building on his way.”

  “Looks like he hasn’t much of an alibi. Dixon was knocked off around two o’clock. You don’t know where Starkey was at that time?”

  Latimer shook his head. “I could find out,” he said. “It might be worth checking.”

  “You do that,” I said, glancing at my watch. It was now half past seven. “Where the devil has Marian got to?”

  “Maybe she’s found something,” Latimer said, getting to his feet. “Well, if you don’t want me anymore I’ll get off. I’ve got a dame to meet, and after I’ve fed her I’ll try Lefty’s again and see if I can pick up anything on Starkey.”

  “Don’t tip your mitt,” I said. “I want to surprise that punk.”

  “I’ll watch it,” Latimer returned, and went off.

  I wandered into the outer office and checked through Reg’s story. We worked on it for a while and then I sat back with a satisfied grunt.

  “I guess that’s about right,” I said. “This’ll give Macey a hell of a headache and maybe Wolf will sue him for libel.”

  “Macey’ll deny it,” Reg said, shaking his head. “I don’t like this idea, pal. It’s a bad story. If Macey and Wolf both go for us, we’ll be closed down.”

  I grinned. “Be your age,” I said. “Wolf owns the damn rag. He’s got a stack of dough. Suppose Macey does sue, it won’t hurt Wolf much but it’ll do a hell of a lot of good.”

  Reg began to grin. “Yeah,” he said. “It might at that. Well, you’re handling this. If you think it’s okay, I’ll get down to the printer with it.”

  “Sure it’s okay,” I said. “Take it down now.”

  He suddenly looked up from putting the folded sheets into an envelope.

  “Where’s Marian?” he said. “Look at the time; it’s after eight o’clock.”

  We looked at each other and we both saw we were thinking the same thing.

  “She’ll be along,” I said uneasily. “Maybe she went home to change. You know what girls are.”

  “Maybe she has,” he said, but neither of us felt any happier about it.

  I looked at the telephone. “Know her number?”

  Reg went over and dialled. We waited while the bell rang. Then he hung up.

  “No one there,” he said.

  “Maybe she’s on her way over,” I said, crossing to the window and looking down the street. “That the apartment house on the corner, isn’t it?”

  Reg joined me. “Yeah,” he said. “But I don’t see her.” He was looking scared. “You don’t think—?”

  “No, I don’t,” I said shortly. “Now look, Reg, get that copy over to the printers. I’ll go over to the apartment house and find out if she’s been in. Come back here as soon as you can. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  He hesitated and then picked up the envelope. “I’ll try not to be long,” he said. “I’d better see this through, though, and it’ll take an hour.”

  “I’ll ring you then,” I said. “Put your number on a piece of paper, and as soon as I find her I’ll call you.”

  I could see he hated going, but after writing the number down, he went.

  The telephone began to ring as I was turning to the door. I went back and picked up the receiver.

  It was Ted Esslinger. “Is Miss French there?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. “I’m waiting for her now. Why are you calling?”

  “Is that Mr. Spewack?” He sounded surprised. “I heard you’d left town.”

  “Don’t believe all you hear,” I said shortly. “Why are you wanting Marian?”

  “She had a date with me at eight-fifteen,” he said. “I was wondering if she were held up or something.”

  I began to feel uneasy. “Sorry, bud,” I snapped. “I haven’t seen her,” and I hung up.

  It took me under four minutes to reach Marian’s apartment house. I rang the bell and a small, bird-like woman opened the door. She looked at me inquiringly.

  “Miss French?” I said.

  Her face brightened. “She’s not in,” she told me, “but she shouldn’t be long. Will you wait?”

  I introduced myself. “Maybe she’s mentioned me,” I said, seeing Marian was popular with the woman.

  “I’m Mrs. Sinclair,” the woman said, smiling at me. “Of course she’s mentioned you. Please come in.”

  I followed her into a large, comfortably furnished room. “What a charming girl she is!” Mrs. Sinclair went on. “Such a nice, unspoilt, clever person, and so enthusiastic about her new work. Fancy Mr. Wolf taking over the Gazette. Do you think he’ll alter the paper in any way? I’ve grown so used to having it now, and sometimes changes…”

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Sinclair,” I broke in, “I’m a little worried about Miss French. You see, we’d arranged to meet at seven o’clock and she hasn’t turned up. She didn’t leave a message, did she?”

  Mrs. Sinclair looked at me sharply. “Why, no,” she said. “She came in about five o’clock. I heard her telephone ring a few minutes later and then she went out again. She didn’t say where she was going.”

  “Do you mind if I go up to her room?” I asked. “I wouldn’t ask this, only it’s important.”

  “I don’t think,” she began, looking bewildered and puzzled.

  “Already four girls are missing in this town,” I said, surprised to hear how harsh my voice sounded. “I don’t want her to be the fifth.”

  She went white. “You don’t mean that,” she said, putting her hand on my arm. “You don’t really…”

  “Take me to her room,” I said. “I don’t know what’s happened to her, but I’m going to find out.”

  We went up the stairs. On the second floor, she took me along a passage and unlocked a door at the far end. I went into a large bright room with flowers on the table and gay-coloured rugs and curtains.

  I stood looking around the room. Then I went over to the telephone. There was a pad of pape
r by the telephone and I picked it up. The sheet of paper was blank, but by holding it at an angle I could make out souse markings on it. Marian had written something and torn a sheet off, leaving the impression on the sheet I was looking at. I tore off the sheet and held it to the light. I could just make out: 37 Victoria Drive.

  “Know where Victoria Drive is?” I asked Mrs. Sinclair, who stood anxiously watching me.

  “It’s the other side of the town before you come to the smelting works. You go down Main Street and keep on to the last of the traffic lights, then you turn right and Victoria Drive is the last turning on the left.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and put the sheet of paper in my pocket. “I guess that’s all.”

  “I’m so worried,” she began. “Hadn’t’ we better tell the police?”

  I said no, the police hadn’t done anything in the past and I couldn’t see them doing anything now. “Leave this to me,” I said. “I’ll find her.”

  As I turned to leave the room I took one more quick look around, and then I paused. “Isn’t that her bag?” I said, going over to an armchair and picking up a smart black and white handbag lying partly concealed by a cushion.

  “I wonder why she didn’t take it with her?” Mrs. Sinclair was saying as I opened the bag.

  I didn’t hear what else she said because the first thing I saw in the bag was a blue ticket. I knew what it was before I took it from the bag and examined it.

  Printed on one side of it was the following message:

  You have just been photographed.

  Call this afternoon for a free specimen photograph.

  Six photographs - 50 cents.

  Beautiful Enlargements mounted and ready to mail: $1.50 each.

  THE STREET-CAMERA STUDIO

  1655 Sinclair Street West, Cranville.

  * * *

  It was growing dark by the time I reached Victoria Drive. I paid off the taxi at the corner and walked casually down the street, noting the number of each house as I passed. Far ahead a lone streetlight burned. Warmer lights dotted the night on either side where houses were spaced half a dozen to a block.