James Chase - Figure It Out for Yourself

If Souki had told him, Souki had also told Marshland. I wasn’t getting ahead very fast, but I was making progress. I got into the Buick, started the engine and stared across the garden at the Pacific. I couldn’t go on like this. I would have to do something that would bring the secrets out into the open. But what?

I lit a cigarette and flicked the match out of the car. Then I drove slowly down the private road, thinking.

Perelli had told Francon he was playing card with Joe Betillo at Delmonico’s bar on the night of the kidnapping. He had said he left Betillo at ten-thirty. Betillo had said it was nine-thirty. Why? Was Betillo in this or was bribed. If who was bribed, who had bribed him? The evening was before me. Maybe it might be a good idea to check Perelli’s alibi. I was in the mood for trouble. Two girls had been murdered this day. A tall, unknown gentleman in sunglasses had tried to lay me among the sweet peas. The fourth richest woman in the world had told me a number of lies. It might be an idea to top off the day with a visit to Delmonico’s Bar, the toughest dive on the Coast.

I felt in the mood to be tough. I decided to go there.

Paula’s cool voice floated over the line: ‘Good evening. Universal Services.’

‘Are you all alone there?’ I asked, pushing my hat to the back of my head and wiping my forehead. The call-box was as hot as a circus tent, and the last occupant had fallen in a vat of Night and Day, the aristocrat of perfumes, to judge by the smell she had left behind

‘Oh, Vic; yes, I’m alone. How did you get on?’

‘Nothing to get excited about. Promise me something, will you?’

‘What?’

‘Never wear Night and Day perfume. It’s horrible stuff.’

‘Why bring that up? I wouldn’t wear it if they gave it to me.’

‘That’s fine. This call-box stinks of it. I’m feeling stifled.’

‘What happened, Vic?’

‘Marshland has suddenly rushed off on a vacation in Europe. That’s what Serena tells me. It’s my bet he was lurking upstairs somewhere, probably biting his nails. I told her he was possibly at the bottom of the kidnapping. She chucked an ingbing and ran off, piping her eye.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Well, she looked scared. I think she’s thought that all along. These rich, well-connected families have a horror of being lagged out of their shells. The butler was revealing too. Nice old boy: one of the old school. I jumped him about Souki, and before he could stop himself he admitted Souki had told him Dedrick was a smuggler. How do you like that?’

‘It doesn’t help Perelli very much, does it?’

‘You’re quite right It doesn’t help him a bit. I’m going to do something about him right now. There’s a small point you might take care of. Will you send a cable to Jack and tell him what I’ve found cut about Dedrick? Tell him to get hustling.’

Paula said she would get the cable off right away.

‘When you’ve done that, shut up and go home.’ I told her.

‘What are you doing ?’

‘I’m digging a little more. The night’s young yet.’

‘Don’t be reckless, will you, Vic?’

I said I’d handle myself as carefully as I’d handle a Ming vase, and hung up before she could ask any more questions.

I got into the Buick again and drove to Monte Verde Avenue. No. 245 was, as Myra Toresca had said, a small, painted bungalow with crazy paving where the garden should have been and a high, overgrown hedge to foil inquisitive neighbours.

I parked the Buick outside, pushed open the low wooden gate and walked up the path. A light showed in one of the windows; a shadow crossed the blind as I rapped on the front door.

The door opened a few inches. Myra asked, ‘Who is it?’

‘Malloy.’

She slid off the chain, opened the door. The passage behind her was dark.

‘Come in. I was wondering when you were coming.’

I followed her into the lighted sitting-room. I was surprised to see her taste ran to frilly cushions, china masks and ornamental dolls.

She was wearing her windbreaker and slacks. Her eyes were heavy-looking and her face pallid. She didn’t look as if she had had much sleep since last I saw her. .

‘What’s cooking?’ she asked as she fetched out a bottle of Scotch, glasses and ice. I’ve been walking the floor since last night.’

Last night! It didn’t seem possible that so much had happened in twenty-four hours.

I dropped into an easy chair.

‘Plenty, but I’m not sure that it does us any good. I’ve a little job on you might like to help me with, but before I go into that, I’ll get you up to date on what’s happened so far.’

She stood before the empty fireplace, her hands in her trouser pockets, a cigarette between her lips, her face set and cold while talked.

I didn’t leave out any of the details, and the story took the best part of a half an hour.

‘I have a lot of facts,’ I concluded, ‘but no proof; and it’s proof We must have. I must build up a case that’ll stand up in court. What I’ve told you makes a good yarn, but Francon couldn’t use it as it stands. The next move is to get the proof, and the only way we can get it is to fight Barratt with his own wea-pons. The first and easiest move is to try to establish Nick’s alibi. He told Francon he was playing cards with Joe Betillo from eight-thirty to ten-thirty. Betillo said he left Delmonico’s at nine-thirty. Betillo is a notorious character in Coral Gables. He’d sell his own mother for a dollar. I’m going out there to-night and see if I can find anyone who saw Perelli leave. Maybe someone did, but is scared to get in bad with Betillo. If I can’t find anyone, then I’m going to get hold of Betillo, bring him here and persuade him to change his mind about the time Nick left. That all right with you?’

She gave a hard little smile.

‘That’s fine,’ she said. ‘If you can’t make him talk, perhaps I can.’

‘We’ll both try. Has Nick any friends? Anyone big and tough who’d help me handle Betillo?

He’ll need a lot of handling.’

Myra shook her head.

‘Nick doesn’t make friends easily. We haven’t long been here. I’ll help you.’

‘No. This isn’t the kind of outing you take a girl on. Never mind. I’ll get hold of Mike

Finnegan. He’s always ready for trouble.’

‘I’m doing it,’ Myra said. I’m a little tired of sitting here, doing nothing. I can handle a gun. I have more incentive than your friend; a lot more incentive. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.’

I studied her, decided to take a chance.

‘Look, don’t let’s have any misunderstanding. We don’t want to kill this guy: we just want to make him talk.’

She gave me a look that sent a prickle up my spine.

‘Get him here, and I’ll make him talk.’

I stood up.

‘Well, come on. Let’s go.’

She pulled open a drawer and took out a .25, checked the clip and pushed the gun into her hip pocket. She finished her whisky, glanced at herself in the mirror.

‘Jeepers! I look a fright. I’m glad Nick isn’t here to see me.’

‘He’d be glad to see you however you look,’ I reminded her and went to the door.

She turned out the light, and together we walked down the garden path to the Buick.

‘Suppose we collect Barratt and make him talk,’ she said as she settled herself in the car beside me. Wouldn’t that save a little time?’

‘I’m not too sold on the idea of forcing a guy to talk,’ I said driving towards the water-front. ‘It might work with Betillo but not with Barratt. He’s too important. He could give us the works, then swear we forced him to confess under torture when he got in the box. That kind of evidence doesn’t stand up.’