The Duchess of Skid Row, page 9
I wondered what Calumet would do if I tried leaving. I took a backward step. The muzzle of the gun lifted a fraction of an inch.
Calumet said, “You didn’t answer my question, McKeon. That isn’t polite.”
I took another step. The gun muzzle lifted higher. I reached behind me and put my hand on the doorknob.
He said, “Sit down, McKeon.”
“And wait for your pals? For Minto and Pooly? Or give Hoxey a chance to get away?”
He made an effort to look blank. I said, “You haven’t got the guts to use that gun, Nick. You might try going for me with your knife, if you were mad enough or scared enough. But you won’t pull that trigger just to keep me from leaving.”
He pulled the trigger.
He moved the gun first. The bullet went into the ceiling above the door. Tiny bits of wood drifted down on me.
I stared at Calumet. He stared back. I don’t know which of us was more surprised. His hand was shaking. He had scared himself.
I said, “Don’t do that again. You might hit something.”
He touched his lips with the tip of his tongue. “It wasn’t as tough as I thought it would be,” he said. “Next time I won’t pull up.”
His eyes were a little wild. I walked away from the door and toward a chair. I started to sit down and changed my mind. Someone was coming down the hall. I could hear heels clicking in fast tempo. The doorknob turned and the door swung open.
Stephanie took a single step into the room. She stopped and stared, wide-eyed, at the gun in Calumet’s hand. Her head swung to the side. Her eyes focused on me.
“Thank heaven, I found you!” she said.
Calumet said, “Who the hell is this, McKeon?”
I ignored him. I said to Stephanie, “What’s up?”
“The police are looking for you.”
“The DA already told me that.”
She said, “Oh.” She sounded a little hurt that I already knew.
I glanced toward Calumet. He was looking interested. He was also doing a good job of examining Stephanie. She was wearing a knit suit. It fit very tightly.
He said thoughtfully, “I could be quite a hero if I held you for the cops, couldn’t I, McKeon?”
I shrugged. I lit a cigaret. I walked over to his desk. I dropped my match in an ashtray half-full of butts. I didn’t even bother to tell him he was bluffing. That he wasn’t in any position to call the police.
I tipped one edge of the ashtray. I slid my fingers under the bottom. I lifted my hand and pushed the ashtray as if it was a 16-pound shot.
Ashes and butts went for Calumet’s face. I went right after them. I swung my left arm as I dove. My knuckles caught his gun and sent it spinning. I grabbed a handful of hair with my right hand. He clawed at my arm. His hair was slippery with grease. It slid out of my fingers.
His swivel chair went over backward, taking him with it.
I left him on the floor. I straightened up and pushed Stephanie toward the door.
We moved. Calumet made no effort to follow us. We went back into the alley. With the hall door closed, the damp darkness folded around us. There was no sound but that of our breathing.
Stephanie said, “What are you going to do now, Jeff? Where can you hide?”
“I’m not about to hide, dollbaby. I have work to do. I’ve got to find that damn Hoxey Creen. Teddy Jenner steered me over here. Maybe she wasn’t lying, but I’ve got to make sure.”
“But what if they catch you?” she demanded. “Lieutenant Maslin isn’t stupid. He’ll guess you’ve come here.”
“I’d rather be caught here than dragged out of some damn hole I’m trying to hide in.”
She didn’t say any more. We started walking back down the alley toward the rear of the Blue Beagle. A short way beyond Arch’s rear door, I stopped. Light was filtering down through the mist, making a yellowish pattern on the slime of the alley floor. I looked upward. One of Hoxey’s windows overlooked the alley. The light was coming through that window.
I said, “Listen, do me a favor. It’s late enough now so that Teddy Jenner should be working. Go into the Blue Beagle and keep an eye on her. If she looks like she’s heading for upstairs, try to detain her.”
“All right,” Stephanie said. She sounded dubious.
“If the cops do catch me, don’t mix in. Stay clear of trouble. The DA wouldn’t appreciate having both of us mixed up in this.”
“All right,” she said again.
We reached the rear door of the Blue Beagle. I showed Stephanie the way into the hall leading to the big room. I waited until she was through the door. Then I climbed the stairs.
I paused by Teddy’s red door. I rapped lightly. There was no answer. I was fairly certain she had gone downstairs to work. I walked on to Hoxey’s door. I lifted my hand to knock.
I dropped my arm. The door was cracked open about two inches. I gave it a light push. It swung back toward the wall. I looked into the room.
It was more of a mess than the last time I had seen it. It had been torn apart. The guts were spilled out of everything; the mattress, the one dresser, the padded chair, the battered sofa. The few magazines and books Hoxey owned were ripped apart.
I hiked through the litter and turned into the open doorway leading to Hoxey’s combination bathroom-kitchen. The hotplate was still on top of the flush tank. The rim of the tub was still as it had been the first time I had seen it: a dust collector. Hoxey had never bathed here as far as I knew.
I stepped closer and drew aside the shower curtain for a better look. I saw that I was wrong. Hoxey finally had used the bathtub.
He had used it to die in.
He was kneeling in the tub. One hand was pressed against the dirty inside rim. The other hand was reaching upward. His fingers had closed around the towel rack screwed into the large imitation tiles of the bathroom wall. He almost looked as if he was trying to pull himself to his feet.
His head was down, the back toward me, the chin sunk toward his chest. I could see the marks of a savage beating on his head and neck. It was the same kind of beating Johnny Itsuko had taken.
Only I didn’t think Hoxey had died from being beaten. His own broken-handled butcher knife had been driven into his back.
I looked into the tub to see if the killer had left his weapon or any part of it. There was nothing but a heavy bar of kitchen soap. A crumpled towel lay half under Hoxey’s lower hand, half under one knee.
I raised my head and followed the line of his raised arm, up to where the fingers grasped the towel rack. I saw that they weren’t really on the rack at all. They were clasped around the square metal fitting that screwed to the wall. Hoxey’s wrist was bent over as if he had been trying to twist the fitting sideways.
My leg touched his side. The balance of his body changed and he began to fall backward. His lifted hand was still clasping the towel rack fitting. And as his body rocked back, the big tile holding the fitting came loose.
The entire rack swivelled away on one end. The tile that came loose from the wall left a hole about six inches square. I could see the hammered edges of a large tin can that fit the hole. And I could see the ends of some papers that were in the tin can.
Hoxey hadn’t been trying to pull himself up. He had been trying to open his homemade safe.
I pried his fingers loose from the fitting. He slipped soggily down into the tub. I reached across him and put my hand in the hole. I reached twice before I had the can cleaned out.
I pushed the tile back into place. By turning the fitting, I locked the towel rack rigidly into position. I had to give Hoxey credit. I hadn’t suspected him of being so ingenious.
I looked at what I had taken from the safe: thin sheets of legal-looking paper and dictating machine tape like those the county and city used. And a roll of film.
I put the tape and film in my pocket. I unfolded the sheets of paper. I needed only one glance to realize that I had finally found the papers that had been missing from the file in the Real Estate Records room. These papers were what Johnny Itsuko had been hiding when I walked up to him that day. And Hoxey had taken them.
They were old remodeling permits for the three properties Griselda now owned on Hill Street: the Blue Beagle, Arch’s, Calumet’s. They were dated over twenty years ago. About the time Joe Rome had first bought the Forum, I thought. They contained detailed descriptions of the remodeling proposals, including scale drawings of the buildings themselves. The drawings were particularly interesting.
I was moving under the dusty bulb for a better look, when I heard footsteps in the other room. I crammed the papers into my pocket and went softly to the door.
Stephanie stood looking toward me. Relief flickered across her face. She said, “Something is wrong, Jeff. I can’t find Teddy Jenner anywhere.”
“She may have a good reason for not being around. Hoxey’s in here. He’s been murdered.”
She gasped. “Jeff, did you …”
“He’s been dead for a good half hour, maybe more.”
Stephanie stared at me. She shivered. Her mouth opened as if she had something to say. Then it closed abruptly. Outside, there was the sound of a siren coming fast toward Hill Street.
I said, “Cops, Let’s get out of here.”
I took her arm and steered her toward the door. She looked back toward Hoxey’s bathroom. I felt the shiver run through her again. I said, “Take my word for it. He’s dead.”
She said, “I was thinking—would she have killed him? I mean, you said she loved Hoxey and—”
“Let’s get out of here first and talk later.” The siren was closer. I placed it on Second Avenue.
I said, “I’ll get away from here. You get my sedan. Bring it into the alley, behind Arch’s place.” I pushed the keys into her hand. “I’ll be waiting there. Hurry it up.”
I opened the alley door. She stumbled into the darkness. I followed. She turned right. I went left. The siren was earsplitting now. I ran through the darkness to Arch’s rear door. I pulled it open and stepped into the back hallway. I shut the door and leaned against it.
No one disturbed me. The siren began to run down as the police car stopped on Hill Street. I heard the sound of my own car. I opened the door and stepped into the alley. Stephanie skidded the sedan to a stop. I opened the door. She slid across the seat. I get beneath the wheel.
“Where are we going?” asked Stephanie.
“To the office.”
I put the sedan in gear and started down the alley. I kept my lights off.
Stephanie said, “How will you ever get into the office? You’ll be arrested as soon as you’re seen.”
I swung to the right and headed south on Third. I cut left as soon as I found a through cross street. I worked my way over to Southeast Boulevard and turned toward the Inlet.
I said, “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“But why go there?” she protested.
“For two reasons. I need a breathing spell, a chance to think. And it’s the last place Maslin will look for me. And I want you to type some dictation for me.”
“Now? At a time like this?”
“Some very important dictation.”
The lot was dark. Except for the permanent glow from the basement emergency hospital and headquarters on the fifth floor, the Tower looked sombre and dark against the cold sky.
We made a wide swing and walked toward the rear of the building across a sweep of lawn. I stepped up to the recessed double doors that led into the service rooms. I drew Stephanie into the shadows of the recess. I got out my keys and opened the door.
We moved carefully through the collection of power lawn mowers, janitorial supplies, and all the paraphernalia required to keep a big building and its grounds maintained.
We stepped into the service hall. I started up the stairs.
She was winded by the time we reached twelve. I put a hand under her arm and hurried her along to the DA’s office. I opened the door and led her into the familiar room. I snapped on the light switch.
I said, “If anyone comes, I’ll hide in the DA’s restroom and you can tell them you had work to catch up on. Let’s get at it.”
I crossed the room to her desk. Her electric typewriter was covered and the earpiece to her transcribing unit lay across the top. I set the earpiece aside and pulled the cover off the machine. Then I took the tape out of my pocket and turned to her transcribing unit.
Stephanie came quickly to my side. “Let me do that, Jeff.”
She tried to take the tape from my hand. She said, “Where did you get this?”
I stepped casually away from her. “You get your typewriter ready. I’ll put the tape on.”
She sat down in her typing chair. I took the cover off her transcriber. The metal of the machine was warm.
“I said, “You forgot to turn this off when you left.”
“I was in a hurry to find you,” she said.
I was staring at the transcriber. It was warm but the light that glowed when the switch was in playback position wasn’t on.
I picked up the transcriber. I turned it over. Between the dustplate on the bottom and the edge of the metal framework there was space for air circulation. A soft glow as from a radio tube showed through the space.
I said, “So that’s what happened to my cigaret lighter.”
“Your what?”
“Griselda gave me a cigaret lighter when we were in California together. It turned up at the place where Johnny Itsuko was killed. I couldn’t figure out how it got there. Now I know. When I flew up here, I packed it in my suitcase.”
She was trying to look puzzled, but she wasn’t doing a very good job. I said, “You had my suitcase, remember? You took the lighter. Did you drop it on purpose when you killed Johnny?”
She gasped. “Killed Johnny! My God, Jeff, why would I do a thing like that?”
I put my hand on the dictating machine. I said, “Because he found out how you bugged the DA’s office.”
10
STEPHANTIE SURGED up out of the typing chair. She caught my arms and pressed her big breasts against me. She pressed hard to make sure I wouldn’t miss the sensation.
“Jeff! What a horrible thing to say!”
She was good. There was just the right amount of shock in her voice, just the right amount of surprise in her expression.
I said, “How does it work, dollbaby? Is the transmitter in the DA’s dictating machine? Sure, that’s it. A wide open transmitter sitting on his desk all the time. And the receiving unit in here.”
Her hands convulsed on my arms. She whispered, “Jeff, Jeff….”
I said, “And you picked up everything he said through the earpiece. Of course. Nobody would think anything of you wearing that gadget.”
She made a whimpering sound in her throat. Her hands dropped from my arms. She stood motionless, her eyes search-my face. I moved between her and the door.
I said, “The DA is going to be a lot sicker than I am when he finds out about this. I’ve had a little time to get used to it.”
Her mouth began to tremble. I said, “I was pretty sure when I left the apartment this afternoon. I knew I was right when you showed up at Calumet’s. It wasn’t Minto he was waiting for at all. It was you. And this about cinches it.”
I slapped a hand on the transcribing unit. “You were in too big a hurry to set me up tonight dollbaby. You ran out and forgot to shut off your bugging machine.”
The madness reached her mouth. She screamed at me. “How did you know? How could you know?”
I said, “Griselda Cletis told me.” I took a steadying breath.
I said, “I guess you’re quite a byword along Sunset Strip, dollbaby. You tried to lay your way to fame and fortune. It didn’t work so you came home. But you couldn’t be satisfied with four hundred a month as the DA’s secretary. Hell no. Not you. You had to sit around and think of all that body going to waste. So when you got a chance to make some money, you took it. Even when you knew what it meant to the DA, to the City, you took it.”
I took a step toward her. “Who hired you?”
She just stared at me. Then she said slowly, “What are you going to do with me?”
I said, “I’m going to listen to you. Then I’m going to play that tape I found. I don’t know what’s on it, but I have an idea you do. And what you say had better come close to matching what’s on the tape.”
“I don’t know anything about a tape,” she said.
“I’m giving you a chance to buy your way out of part of your trouble. Don’t louse it up by lying to me.”
Hope flared in her eyes and then died. She said bitterly, “You wouldn’t give me that kind of a break. You and your damn loyalty to the DA.”
“I won’t enjoy doing it, but I might do it anyway. I’ve had to do a lot of things I don’t enjoy,” I paused and added, “Like using Hoxey for a stoolie instead of putting him away.”
She turned her back on me and walked to her desk chair. She sat down. She didn’t say anything. She just looked at me.
I said, “You managed to keep your boss pretty well posted on what the DA and I were up to, didn’t you? Who thought up this idea, Stephanie. Was it Nick Calumet or Arch or Minto?”
She said in a low voice, “None of them. It was Hoxey Creen.”
I said, “Crap! You work for a scum like Hoxey? He never had an original idea in his life.”
“I can’t help that,” she said. “Hoxey fixed the machines so I could listen in on the DA’s office. And he was the one I phoned to tell what I’d learned.”
“And what did he do to get you to do all this for him? Did he tell you how gorgeous your front is? Did he agree that you’ve been cheated because the whole world hasn’t fallen down and worshipped what you were lucky enough to be born with?”
“Stop it!” she screamed.
I hammered at her with my voice. “Hoxey, hell. Somebody behind Hoxey made you the deal, didn’t he? Somebody from the Combine. He told you that when this was over, he’d see that you got your break in Hollywood, didn’t he?” I was shouting.
