Miss Callaghan Comes to Grief Read online

  Obviously, the women are in the game for what they get out of it, and the stories we hear about Slaving is so much junk.”

  Jay considered this. “Suppose these women were terrorized?” he said. “How about that?”

  Johnson shook his head. “Too risky,” he said. “We’d give them protection if they wanted to squawk. All they have to do is to walk in here, lodge a complaint, and we’d look after them until an investigation’s been made.”

  “Suppose they can’t get out?” Jay persisted.

  Johnson frowned. “What you hintin’ at?” he demanded. “Do you know anythin’?”

  Jay shook his head. “Nope,” he confessed; “but I’m interested. I believe that a woman could be terrorized into prostitution, and I’m lookin’ into it from this angle. I may be wrong, but if I ain’t, I’m going to keep you mighty busy bookin’ the heels who run the racket.”

  “You’re wasting your time,” Johnson said. “What you want is an excuse to play around with undesirable floosies. I bet part of your investigation will be meetin’ and talkin’ to these dames.”

  Jay shook his head. “I’m serious, Johnson,” he said. “You wait and see. If I do strike on anythin’ you’d better get ready for some heavy work.”

  A police officer came in, followed by Benny Perminger. The officer went up to Johnson. “This guy thinks we’ve got his wife in gaol,” he said. “Will you speak to him?”

  Johnson looked at Benny doubtfully. “What’s the trouble?” he demanded.

  Benny was looking scared. “I’m Ben Perminger,” he said. “I want to see my wife.”

  Johnson closed his mouth into a thin line. “I ain’t stoppin’ you,” he said coldly. “She ain’t here.”

  “Well, where have you taken her?”

  “What is all this?”

  Benny began to look bewildered. “Well, I don’t know,” he said. “I found this note when I got home.” He gave Johnson a slip of paper.

  Jay sat up on the bench and watched all this with interest. He smelt a news story.

  Johnson read the note and handed it back. “There’s no one of the name of Perminger booked last night. We didn’t pull anyone in from that address. I guess she’s havin’ a game with you.”

  Benny stood staring at the note. “Maybe they didn’t bring her here. Could they take her anywhere else?”

  “There’s the station on West 47th Street. I’ll ask them.” Johnson pulled the phone towards him and put the enquiry through. After a short wait he shook his head and hung up. “No, they don’t know anythin’ about it.”

  Benny began to sweat. “What am I goin’ to do?” he asked.

  Johnson was getting bored with him. “It’s your wife, buddy,” he said. “Most like she’s havin’ a little game with you. You go back home. You’ll find her waitin’ for you.”

  Benny turned away from the desk and moved slowly towards the door.

  Johnson looked at Jay. “That guy’s got a leak in his conk,” he said under his breath.

  Jay got up and followed Benny out of the station house, ignoring Johnson’s yell for him to come back.

  Benny walked down the street in a daze. He didn’t know what to make of it. Surely Sadie wouldn’t pull a stunt like this if it didn’t mean anything? She had said that she was being taken down to the station house as a witness and would Benny come at once.

  Jay overtook him at the comer. “Hey, Perminger,” he said, “what’s all this about your wife?”

  Benny blinked at him. “Where the hell did you spring from?” he said, shaking hands.

  “Come over an’ have a drink,” Jay said, taking him by his arm and steering him into a near−by bar. “I overheard what you were tellin’ Johnson. What’s happened to Mrs. P.?”

  Seated at a small table away from the bar and assisted by a large iced beer, Benny unburdened. He told Jay how he had quarrelled with Sadie and how he’d left her during the night. “Well, I felt a bit of a heel this morning,” he went on, “so I thought I’d get back and make it up. When I got in I found all the lights burning and a note on my pillow saying she’d been taken down to headquarters as a witness and would I please come.”

  He paused to pull at his beer.

  Jay puzzled. On the face of it, he thought, Sadie might be just teaching this guy a lesson, but his instinct for news was not satisfied. Why should she use such an odd way of scaring him? Why a witness? A witness of what? No, it didn’t quite add up.

  “I thought the police were supposed to help you,” Benny grumbled. “The way that guy went on, you’d think I was crazy.”

  “You don’t have to worry about him. He’s gettin’ all kinds of stories and complaints every hour, and he just doesn’t take any interest. Where are you livin’ now?”

  Benny told him.

  Jay suddenly sat up. “Surely, that’s where Tootsie Mendetta hangs out?” he said.

  Benny nodded. “That’s right,” he answered. “I’ve been wantin’ an introduction to him for weeks. I want to sell him a flock of tracks. He lives just opposite my apartment, but I’ve never set eyes on him.”

  Jay got to his feet. There might be something in this story after all. It was a long shot, but he wasn’t going to let it grow cold. “We’ll go back to your apartment and have a look round,” he said. “Come on, buddy, let’s go.”

  Benny went with him and they took a taxi to the block.

  Inside his apartment Jay couldn’t find anything that excited him. It was just an ordinary joint of a man with a nice income. He wandered around, his hands deep in his trouser pockets, brooding.

  Benny sat on the arm of a chair and watched him.

  “Did she take a suit−case or anythin’?” Jay asked suddenly.

  Benny looked bewildered. “I don’t know,” he said. “I hadn’t thought of lookin’.”

  “Check that up, will you, pal?”

  Benny went into the bedroom and after a while he came out again. He looked more bewildered still. He shook his head helplessly. “No,” he said, “she hasn’t taken anythin’. The only things that are missing are the clothes she wore yesterday and her handbag. Nothing else.”

  Jay didn’t like the sound of this. No woman would ran away from her husband without taking some of her belongings.

  “Will you wait here?” he said. “I’ll go across and hare a word with Mendetta. Maybe he heard somethin’.”

  Benny suddenly went very pale. “You don’t think anythin’ bad’s happened to her?” he asked.

  Jay shook his head. “No,” he said, “I don’t think so, but we’ll clear this up or find out somethin’, so we can get the cops interested. You sit down for a moment.”

  He left the apartment and crossed the corridor. He rang Mendetta’s bell. No one answered. He stood there waiting, and then he rang again. Still no one answered.

  Benny came to his front door and stood watching him.

  “No one seems at home,” he said.

  Jay scratched his head. “Will you phone down to the porter and find out what time Mendetta went out?” he said.

  While Benny was doing this Jay took a little instrument from his vest pocket and inserted it in the lock. He made no attempt to open the door, but by careful probing he knew that, if he wanted to, he could do so.

  Benny came back, looking blank. “The porter guy says Mendetta hasn’t left the building.”

  Jay put his thumb on the bell and kept it there. They stood listening to the angry whirr of the bell for several minutes. Then Jay made up his mind. “I’m goin’ in,” he said.

  “You can’t do that. Maybe he’s asleep.”

  Jay looked at him. “I’m chancin’ that,” he said shortly. “Somehow, I feel there’s somethin’ wrong in there.”

  He once more probed with his instrument and a moment later the lock slid back with a little snick. Gently, he eased the door back and looked into the hall. Then he stepped in softly and entered the first room he came to.

  He stood looking at Mendetta sprawled out on t
he floor. His big head rested in a pool of blood. Over the other side of the room Jean lay, one leg drawn up and her arms flung wide. Jean wasn’t very nice to look at.

  Jay caught his breath. Here was his front page murder. He spun on his heel and nearly collided with Benny, who had come in.

  “My God!” Benny said, going suddenly very green.

  Jay pushed him out into the corridor. “Keep your shirt on,” he said roughly. “Go into your apartment and get some drinks lined up.”

  Benny went away hurriedly, and Jay carefully closed the apartment door. He followed Benny and grabbed the telephone. “Listen,” he said, as he hastily dialled a number, “there’s goin’ to be a riot in a little while. Did your wife know Mendetta?”

  Benny gave himself a long drink of Scotch. He shook his head. “You don’t think she’s mixed up in this, do you?”

  Jay was already on to Henry. “Mendetta’s been bumped,” he said. “I’ve just been into his apartment. We’ve got the exclusive story. Even the cops don’t know yet. Can you get this story on the street right away?”

  Henry got very excited. “Let’s have it,” he said.

  Jay sat down. In short, crisp sentences he fired off the discovery of finding Mendetta’s and Jean’s bodies.

  “What the hell were you doin’ up there?” Henry snapped.

  “I’ll fix that end,” Jay told him. “You get that on the street in ten minutes and you’ll beat the whole gang to it. I’ve got to tell the cops.”

  “When you’re through come on back. I’ve got to see what Poison’s got to say about this.”

  “To hell with Poison. This is the story of my life. If Poison’s going to put a soft pedal on it I’m quittin’,” and Jay hung up.

  He turned to Benny. “Listen, pal, this is where you’ve got to be a big help. We’re goin’ down to get the porter to open Mendetta’s door. It wouldn’t look too good if they found out that I’ve broken in. Come on, we’ve gotta work fast.”

  Protesting feebly, Benny followed him downstairs.

  17

  June 6th, 11 a.m.

  SADIE OPENED her eyes. The hard, naked light of the electric lamp blinded her and she rolled over on the bed, shielding her eyes with her arm. A stabbing pain shot through her head as she moved.

  She couldn’t think where she was or what had happened to her. Her mouth felt dry and her body ached. She lay for some time, only half conscious. Then, after a while, her mind began to function again. She remembered dimly leaving her home. She remembered Lu. Out of the mists Grantham’s face appearedGrantham, thin−lipped, standing over her with something in his hand that she couldn’t see. She remembered her terror, and, as she started to scream, a hot hand coming from behind her, over her mouth. She remembered a sharp prick in her arm and her wild struggle, then she remembered nothing more.

  Again she half opened her eyes. She was aware that she was lying on a mattress and the colour of the walls was a drab grey. Her heart began to thud wildly. It was no horrible nightmare, then. She turned over and looked round the room.

  It was small. The thick carpet on the floor matched the walls. There was no other furniture in the room except the bed on which she was lying.

  The door was opposite her. Slowly she sat up, holding her head between her hands. There was something the matter with the room. For a moment she couldn’t make it out, then she realized that there was no window.

  The discovery did a lot to clear her brain. She knew that she was in acute danger. Of what she didn’t know, but all the same it made her sick with terror.

  Slowly she got off the bed and staggered across the room to the door. Her feet sank into the pile of the carpet, which deadened her footfalls. She tried the door, but it was locked. She stood pulling weakly at the handle, and then she slid down on to the floor and began to cry.

  Her head hurt so. She was so frightened. Where could she be? she asked herself. She stayed like that for some time, and when she couldn’t cry any more she again got control of her nerves. She knew she would get nowhere just crying, and, taking herself in hand, she stood up.

  She tried the door, pulling at the handle without success, and then she hammered on the panels. That gave her a horrible shock. The panels were covered with a thick layer of rubber. Her small fists bounced back every time she struck, and she could make no sound as she hammered.

  She turned and stumbled blindly to the opposite wall and put her hands on it. Rubber again. The room was sound−proof, lined with heavy rubber, even to the ceiling.

  She knew then that something horribly was going to happen to her, and she began to scream wildly.

  18

  June 6th, 12 noon.

  RAVEN CAME out of the 22nd Club and signalled to a taxi. His thin white face was expressionless, but there was a triumphant gleam in his eyes. He carried a leather document case, and he climbed into the taxi with a new dignity that off−set his shabby clothes. He gave the address of his hotel and sat back.

  The taxi was a symbol of his success. He hadn’t ridden in a taxi since he’d left Chi. Now things were going to be different. In the document case were papers that made him a rich man. Grantham hadn’t raised any objection. He had turned Mendetta’s shares over to him without a word. They were all bearer bonds. Nothing to connect Raven with him. But they meant money. He had been willing to have shared all this with Mendetta, but the rat had said no. Now he had it all.

  The taxi swerved and pulled up outside the hotel. Raven paid him off and hurried upstairs. The three were waiting for him, still chewing, blank, stolid expressions on their faces.

  Raven looked round at them and they in turn looked at him. He raised the case so that they could see it. He knew it was no use explaining anything about holdings or shares or bearer bonds to them. They hadn’t the mentality to understand. All they could understand was money. Not in cheques or bonds, but in notes and coin.

  He took from his pocket his small, fast−vanishing roll. He peeled off two notes and gave them to Little Joe.

  “Go and get some Scotch,” he said. “Get glasses from downstairs. Make it snappy.”

  A little grin came to the faces of the three. This they could understand. A guy doesn’t buy them one drink, he sends for a bottle. That must mean dough.

  While Little Joe was away Raven took off his hat and combed his hair carefully. He adjusted his frayed tie and regarded himself for a long while in the fly−blown mirror.

  The other two watched him with interest. Raven took no notice of them; he was waiting for Little Joe.

  They knew this and were content to wait. Little Joe had tagged along with them; he was entitled to hear what was to be said as much as the others.

  Little Joe came back with the Scotch and glasses. At a sign from Raven he poured drinks out all round.

  Raven took his glass. “Money and power,” he said, and they all drank.

  Sitting down, Raven ht a cigarette. “It’s fixed,” he said. “We’re movin’ to the St. Louis Hotel right away.

  When we’re settled we can look around for somethin’ better, but that’ll do to get along with.”

  The St. Louis Hotel was the best hotel in town.

  Maltz said, “Gee! That joint’s too swell for us guys.”

  “You’ve got to change your ideasall of you. This is no longer a small−town party. We’re big shots,” Raven said, sipping his whisky carefully. “I want to talk to you guys. We’re startin’ work right away. You’ve got to go round the bars and spread the rumour that all whores are to get off the streets or else… Do you get it?”

  Little Joe scratched his head. “Say, what’s the idea?”

  Raven knew he’d got to be patient with these guys. “We’re goin’ to clean up the whole town. It’s goin’ to be a hell of a job, but it’s got to be done. You three have got to get so many hoods in each district of the town who are tough enough to run the whores off the streets and to deal with their bookers. That’s your first job. I’ll make myself plain. What happens to a guy
who smokes a lot and suddenly finds out he can’t get tobacco?”

  Lefty knew that one. “He goes nuts,” he said simply.

  Raven nodded. “That’s it, he goes nuts. Then supposing some guy comes along and offers him tobacco after a while at a greatly increased price? What happens?”

  The three looked at each other. This was getting beyond them.

  “He pays more because he can’t get it elsewhere,” Raven said patiently.

  “So what?” Little Joe said.

  “That’s what we’re goin’ to do. Once we get organized, no whore on the streets will be safe. She’s got to be treated rough, so she’s too scared to work. We want them to leave town. It’ll take a little while, but if you treat

  ’em rough enough they’ll go. If they don’t, then we’ve got to start shootin’, but that’ll be the last straw. We don’t want trouble with the cops. If we knock ’em about, cut ’em a little, the cops won’t do anythin’, but if we kill ’em, then they’ll have to get busy.”

  “It’s goin’ to be tough on the guys who like whores,” Maltz said, thinking of himself.

  “Now you’re gettin’ somewhere,” Raven said. “We’re goin’ to set up houses. Not these fancy brothels that Mendetta ran. There’s no big dough in those. He took a ten per cent cut on the house. The girls got fifty and the rest of the dough was put into expenses. That’s a crazy way of workin’ it. I’m doin’ it differently.” He edged forward. “Each girl will be paid a fixed salary. She’ll never see the dough. It’ll be put to her credit in a ledger. Out of this she’ll have to pay rent for her room, her clothes, smokes, drinks and whatever else she wants. The balance, if there is a balance, will be used to buy shares in the house to give her a business interest.” Raven smiled crookedly. “When she wants to go she can sell out at the market pricewhich will be fixed by meand she can beat it.”

  Lefty understood a little of this. “She doesn’t see any dough at all, then?”

  “That’s right. I’m using that dough as capital.”