(1941) Miss Callaghan Comes To Grief Page 7

  They walked out of the elevator and crossed the big lobby.

  “That's just it, Chief. You guys with daughters don't think about the girls who disappear every year. Let me tell you, if I had a daughter I'd never take my eyes off her. I hope I don't have one.”

  They got in a taxi and Ellinger gave Fletcher's address.

  “What are you talking about?” Henry demanded. “What girls disappearing?”

  Jay looked at him. “You know as well as I do. We can't do anythin' about it so we just say they've gone off to get married, or gone to Hollywood or some other excuse. This guy Fletcher is pretty sure that his sister's been slaved. He thinks Grantham, and that means Mendetta too, is trading women. We know there's no proof of it, but, by heavens, think what a stink we could make if we got the proof.”

  Henry lit a cigar. “All right,” he said, “let's see how this guy strikes me. If I think there's anything to it you can go ahead, but Poison will have to give his okay first.”

  “Poison will okay it if we can convince him. That's why I've got you to come down now. If you think it's all right we'll both go an' see Poison and give it to him with both barrels.”

  The taxi drove up outside the tenement block. There was a large crowd standing around the front door. An ambulance and two police cars were parked on the opposite side of the street.

  Jay bundled out of the car. He looked quickly at Henry, and together they ran up the steps. A big cop stepped in their way. “Take it easy,” he said, “you can't come in here.”

  Jay said, “We're goin' in, buddy. Meet the Editor−in−Chief of the St. Louis Banner. Big stuff, boy. Where's your red carpet?”

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  Miss Callaghan Comes To Grief

  The cop didn't move. “Yeah?” he said. “If that old guy's the Chief of anythin', then I'm the mother of kittens.”

  Jay looked at Henry. “He's got you there, Chief,” he said with a grin.

  Henry said with cold dignity, “What's going on in here?”

  Two plain−clothes men from the Homicide Bureau came down the stairs and made to pass them. Henry knew one of them. “Hey, Bradley, tell this flat−foot who I am. I want to go up!”

  Bradley looked at him keenly. “For Pete's sake, it's Henry! What are you doin' here?”

  Henry smiled easily. “I was passin', saw the ambulance, and thought I'd see my man work first hand.”

  Bradley shook his head. “It ain't much,” he said regretfully; “just another shootin'. Still, you can go on up.”

  Jay said, “Who is it?”

  “Guy named Fletcher. I guess someone owed him a grudge.”

  Jay shook his head. “I guess we won't bother,” he said grimly. “Come on, Chief, that's small−town stuff.”

  They returned to the taxi, and Jay told the driver to go back to the Banner office.

  “Does that interest you?” he said quietly. “Grantham must have found out he'd talked to me, so he shut his mouth. This looks like the real thing.”

  Henry said doubtfully, “Maybe it was a coincidence.”

  “Maybe it was nothing of the sort. It sticks out a mile. Who'd want to shoot a guy like Fletcher? Ask yourself. He was just an out−of−work clerk. No, guys don't risk killing a poor punk like that unless it's very important. I'd like you to speak to Poison.”

  Henry said, “What are you thinking of doing?”

  “I'd like to take this up on the quiet. Keep an eye on the Club, find out what I can, and if I get anything worth while, go for it with two hands.”

  Henry relaxed. “Yeah,” he said, “I'll speak to Poison.”

  “Let's go an' see him now,” Jay said. “The old buzzard won't be in bed yet.”

  Henry groaned. “All right,” he said. “It looks as if I'm not going to get any sleep tonight.”

  “You'll get all the sleep you want after you've seen Poison,” Jay said, giving the new address to the taxi−driver.

  They had to wait nearly half an hour before Poison would see them. Then he walked into the small reception−room, a heavy scowl on his face and his hands thrust deeply in his trouser pockets.

  Poison looked what he was: a millionaire newspaper owner. Hard as nails, a terrific worker, and greedy for dollars. He stared at Henry as if he couldn't believe his eyes. “What do you want?” he snapped. “What is this?”

  Henry said respectfully, “This is Ellinger, who's responsible for crime news. He's got a little story that I thought would interest you.”

  Poison didn't even bother to look at Jay. He tapped Henry on his chest with a long bony forefinger. “Listen, I pay you to listen to interesting stories, and to print them. I'm far too busy to bother with things like that. Go back to the office, hear his story; if it's any good, print it, if it isn't, tell him to go to hell.”

  “This story's about Mendetta and the 22nd Club,” Henry said patiently. “In view of what you said to me this morning, I thought I'd ask you first.”

  Poison's eyes snapped. “I said leave the 22nd Club alone. Leave Mendetta alone. When I say a thing I mean what I say.”

  Henry stepped back. “Very well, Mr. Poison,” he said.

  Jay said, “Mendetta's running a vice ring. He's trading in women. Decent girls are being kidnapped from their homes. I've got proof that he is using the Club for this purpose. I want your permission to make an investigation.”

  Poison stiffened. His thin hatchet face went white with anger. Without looking at Ellinger, he said to Henry: “I will not discuss this further. I've told you our policy. Leave Mendetta alone, and leave the Club alone. If any of your staff disobey our policy, get rid of them. Good night.” He turned on his heel and walked stiffly out of the room.

  Henry looked at Jay. “You heard him,” he said.

  “I wonder how much Mendetta gave him, the dirty rat−faced heel,” Jay said, picking up his hat. “If he 31

  Miss Callaghan Comes To Grief

  thinks he can stop me he's made a big mistake.”

  Henry looked worried. “You've got to leave it alone, Jay,” he said. “Poison's the big shot.”

  “Yeah? Well, I don't spell it that way,” and Jay slammed out of the house.

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  Miss Callaghan Comes To Grief

  11

  June 6th, 12.30 a.m.

  GRANTHAM SAT behind his neat desk, writing. A cigarette burnt lazily in an ash−tray at his elbow, and the room was silent but for the faint scratch of his pen.

  He heard his door open, and he glanced up irritably. Raven stood looking at him. Behind Raven, Grantham could see Lu Eller, white−faced and uncertain.

  Grantham laid down his pen very slowly. The colour went out of his face and a muscle in his jaw began to jump.

  Raven said, “Tell this monkey to go away.”

  Grantham knew that Mendetta was dead. Raven would never have come if Mendetta wasn't dead. He told Eller with his eyes to go away. He didn't trust his voice.

  Lu Eller lifted his shoulders. He seemed relieved that Grantham didn't want him. Raven came in and shut the door. He put a slip of paper on Grantham's desk silently.

  Without touching it, Grantham read it. It was in Mendetta's handwriting.

  “Is he dead?” Grantham said. His voice was very low.

  Raven sat down and looked round the office. “He had a little accident,” he said. “Things'll be very different now.”

  “What are you going to do?” Grantham studied the shabby figure sitting before him.

  Raven settled back in his chair. “Plenty,” he said. “This town was too small for Mendetta and me. One of us had to go. Now I'm takin' it over.”

  Grantham licked his dry lips. “Mendetta had plenty of protection,” he said. “You won't get far without that.”

  Raven inclined his head. “I've thought of that,” he said softly. “That's where you come in. You're going to be my front, Grantham. I've got it all worked out. I'll tell you what to do an' you'll do it. You've done the same thing for Mendetta, so you can do it for me. The d
ifference is that I'm goin' to make more money than Mendetta ever did, an' you're goin' to do a lot more work.”

  Grantham didn't say anything.

  “Don't think you can get out of it. I haven't the time to play around with guys. If you don't like it you'll run into an accident too. Get it?”

  “I'll do it,” Grantham said quickly. “I've been waiting for you to take over. I knew Mendetta wouldn't last.”

  Raven inclined his head. “Yeah? You're a smart boy. Okay, tomorrow you an' me'll have a little talk. I want all the dope. I want the names of all the girls who worked for Mendetta. Listen, that guy didn't know how to organize vice. Well, I do. Ever been to Reno, Grantham? No? Well, I have. They make a lot of dough in that town. They understand vice. Well, I've got some ideas. We'll get together.” He stood up. “Just so that you don't feel worried about all this, there's a ten per cent cut coming to you on everything if you play ball. If you don't, you'll get a bullet. Think about it.”

  He wandered to the door.

  “I'll be down tomorrow at ten. Get all the stuff together,” and he went out, shutting the door softly.

  Grantham sat back, feeling slightly sick. So it had happened. Where was Jean? He picked up the phone and hastily dialled Mendetta's number. The operator told him after a short delay that no one was answering. He hung up.

  Lu Eller came in. Ever since Mendetta could afford gunmen, Eller had been looking after them. He was a tall, powerfully built man, with a heavy jaw and ingrowing eyebrows.

  “What's he want?” he said, standing just inside the doorway.

  Grantham lit another cigarette. “That's your new boss,” he said bitterly. “Mendetta's met with an accident.”

  Lu raised his eyebrows. “That's too bad. You standin' for Raven?”

  Grantham put his elbows on the table. “Let's face it, Lu,” he said. “Since Raven moved in, what's happened? Mendetta lost his grip. We know that. They both came from Chi. Mendetta used to carry a gun for Diamond. He thought he was too big for that, so he moved over here. Well, he got on. What Raven did in Chi.

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  Miss Callaghan Comes To Grief

  I don't know, but when he came here he certainly scared Mendetta. He offered to come in as a partner, but Mendetta turned him down. You've seen him, haven't you? Looks like he's down to rock bottom, till you look at his face. That guy's going to be big, and Mendetta knew it. When he turned Raven down he signed his death warrant. Raven promised him he'd fix him, and he has. I think Raven can make me more money than any guy in this town. I ain't interested in anything else but making a lot of dough. Raven's good enough for me.”

  Lu looked at him admiringly. “That's the swellest bit of lyin' I've ever heard. It nearly convinces me, but not quite. Shall I tell you why you're saying welcome to Raven? Because you're yellow. Because Raven's a killer, and you know it. Because Raven's got a little mob that is as tough as hell and could smash us up in half an hour. Yeah, that's why.”

  Grantham got to his feet. “What about you?” he said. “You goin' to tell Raven where he gets off?”

  Lu shook his head. “Sure I'm not,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “What's good enough for you suits me.

  I'm yellow too.”

  “Instead of yapping like this, suppose you go over to Mendetta's apartment and find out what's happened.

  I'm worried about Jean.”

  Lu shook his head. “Be your age. Suppose the cops walk in when I'm there? Where should I be? You'll have to wait. The papers'll have it fast enough.”

  Grantham said uneasily, “Do you think he's killed her too?”

  “Why should you worry? She ain't anybody. If you want to know so badly, go an' see for yourself.”

  Grantham paced up and down the room. “We've got to find out, Lu. This is serious. Suppose Jean talked?”

  “She won't talk.”

  “She might about Raven. If Raven gets pinched, where should we be?”

  Lu considered this. “Maybe you're right. Say, isn't O'Hara on that beat?”

  “I don't know. Is he?”

  Lu turned to the door. “I'll go down there and see. If he is I'll tip him to go up and investigate. What the hell are we payin' that guy two hundred bucks a month for if he can't do a little thing like that?”

  Grantham looked relieved. “That's an idea. Get after him right away.” Lu left the room at a run.

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  Miss Callaghan Comes To Grief

  12

  June 6th, 1.10 a.m.

  SADIE HAD just fallen into a light doze when a sound outside her apartment made her sit up, wide awake again.

  She listened, her heart beating wildly, the memory of Raven horribly clear−cut in her mind. She wondered if he had returned. For several minutes she lay listening, then, cautiously, she pulled back the bed−clothes and reached for her wrap.

  Silently she went to the front door and looked once through the letter−box. The burly figure of a police officer relieved her of all her fears. He was just going into Mendetta's apartment. She opened the door and stood waiting.

  The police officer came out of the apartment in a few minutes. His start of surprise when he saw Sadie puzzled her.

  “Isis anythin' wrong in there?” she asked.

  He looked at her suspiciously. “Who are you?” he snapped.

  “I'm Mrs. Perminger. I thought I heard someone cry out a little while back and I thought I heard someone fall.” Sadie looked at him with big eyes.

  O'Hara could have killed her. He'd gone up on Lu's instructions just to look around. He had no intention of reporting Mendetta's death. He had no reasonable excuse for being up there, and now this dame must come and put her oar in.

  He said, “I'll come in your place for a moment, Miss. Don't want to be seen in the passage; might scare the folks.”

  Sadie coloured. “I don't think you'd better come in. I'mI'm all alone.”

  O'Hara nodded. “That's all right,” he said; “if you'll just let me stand in the hall.” He was most anxious that nobody else should see him.

  Reluctantly Sadie stepped back and let him in.

  “Now then, Miss,” he said, taking out his note−book. “You say you heard someone cry out?”

  Sadie nodded. There was something about this cop that she didn't like. She wished he'd go away.

  “What time was that?”

  “It was just after twelve.”

  “Did you see anythin'?” O'Hara looked at her closely.

  Sadie hesitated, then she said, “Yes, there was a man who came out of the apartment. He had some papers and a gun in his hand.”

  O'Hara felt the sweat break out under his arms. “Yeah?” he said. “You're sure of that?”

  “Of course I'm sure.”

  “Would you know him again?”

  “I'd know him anywhere,” Sadie said firmly. “He was middle height, dark, dressed in a shabby black suit.

  His face was very thin, with thin lips and horrible cold eyes. I don't think I'll ever forget him.”

  O'Hara hadn't much time. He knew that Lu must hear about this. Grantham hadn't picked him for nothing.

  He had his head screwed on all right.

  “Well, lady,” he said, “there's been a little accident over there. I guess we'll be looking for that guy. Now will you get dressed? I'd like to take you down to the station house.”

  “What, now?” Sadie's eyes opened.

  O'Hara nodded. “Sure,” he said. “We'll get you to look through some of the photos we got down there. You might spot the guy right away.”

  Sadie wished Benny was there. She felt suddenly extremely helpless and alone. She didn't want to go, but she supposed she had to. “Will you wait here? I'll go and dress.”

  O'Hara touched his cap. “I'll meet you downstairs, lady,” he said. “I don't want you bothered with newshawks. If they saw me leave with you we'd never shake them.”

  He went away, walking very rapidly.

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  Miss Callaghan Co
mes To Grief

  Sadie dressed. She felt vaguely uneasy and wished now that she hadn't told O'Hara anything. Well, they couldn't do anything to her at the station house. She'd just tell them the truth and then they'd let her go. As she was about to leave the apartment she suddenly thought of something. She ran back to the sitting−room and scribbled a note to Benny. She put it on his pillow, hoping that if he came in he'd find it at once. Then she picked up her bag and went down to the hall.

  In the meantime O'Hara met Lu, who was waiting in the street. “Listen, boss,” the cop said quickly, “we're in a jam. Both Mendetta and the jane are dead, but there's a little dame up there who saw Raven leave. She can identify him. I thought you wouldn't like that. She's on her way down now. I told her I was taking her to the station.”

  Lu cursed under his breath. He stood thinking for a moment, then nodded. “Listen, tell her I'm a cop when she comes down. I'll take her to Grantham's apartment and he must decide what to do with her. When I've got her out of the way, continue your beat. You don't know anythin' about the killing, get it? The longer it remains under cover the better. It'll give Raven a chance to get set.”

  O'Hara nodded. “This'll cost me my job if it comes out,” he said with a sly look.

  “Don't worry your head about that,” Lu said impatiently. “We'll look after you. I'll see you get somethin'

  extra for this.”

  “See that it's worth havin',” O'Hara said, and went back into the hall.

  Sadie came down as he entered. He touched his cap respectfully. “An officer of the Homicide Squad is outside with a car, lady,” he said. “You go with him. I gotta do some phoning.”

  He led her out to Lu, who was standing by his car. Lu raised his hat.

  “This is Mrs. Perminger,” O'Hara said with a broad grin. “She's the little lady who saw the guy I told you about.”

  Lu opened the car door. “I'm sorry to get you up at such an hour, Mrs. Perminger,” he said, “but you're goin' to be a big help to us.”

  Sadie thought he wasn't at all her idea of a plain−clothes cop, but she got in the car, because she was scared that they'd think she had something to hide. Lu got in beside her.

  O'Hara stood watching the car drive away. He spat into the street. “I wonder what they'll do with her?” he thought. “Nice little dame,” and he turned and resumed his patrol with measured steps.