James Chase: I'll Get You for This

“Who’s this guy?” the man in the gaberdine suit asked, turning to the reception clerk, and pointing at me.

The reception clerk looked like he was going to throw up. His face was pale green.

“Mr. Chester Cain,” he said, in a far-away voice.

That seemed to give the ugly guy a buzz.

“Sure?”

The reception clerk nodded.

The guy faced me. His flat puss was loaded with viciousness.

“We know all about you,” he said. “I’m Flaggerty of the Homicide Bureau. You’re in a hell of a jam, Cain.”

I knew I had to talk if it killed me.

“You’re crazy,” I said. “I didn’t do it.”

“When I find a rat with your reputation locked in with a murdered man I don’t have to look all that far to find his killer,” Flaggerty sneered. “You’re under arrest, and you’d better start talking.”

I tried to think, but my mind wasn’t working. I felt like hell, and my head throbbed and pounded.

The reception clerk plucked at Flaggerty’s sleeve and pulled him away. He started whispering. At first Flaggerty wouldn’t listen. Then I caught Killeano’s name, and that seemed to hold Flaggerty. He looked at me doubtfully, then he shrugged.

“All right,” he said to the reception clerk, “but it’s a waste of time.”

The reception clerk left the room. He had to force his way through the crowd outside in the corridor, and three or four of them tried to squeeze into the room. Flaggerty slammed the door in their faces. Then he went over to the window and stared out.

The house dick touched my arm. He offered me a glass of whisky.

I took it and drank it. It was just what I needed.

I said I would have some more.

The house dick gave me another shot. He stood smiling stupidly at me, a blend of servility and horror in his eyes.

Then quite suddenly the cotton wool in my head dissolved, the pain went away and I felt as fine as could be expected under the circumstances. I asked the house dick for a cigarette, and he gave me one and lit it for me. His fat hairy hand was trembling.

“Make the punk at home,” Flaggerty said from the window. He was watching me now, and he held a snub-nosed automatic in his hand. “Stay where you are, Cain,” he went on. “I’m not taking any chances with you.”

“Skip it,” I said. “I know it looks bad, but she’ll tell you what happened as soon as she comes to the surface. I don’t know a thing about it.”

“They never do,” Flaggerty sneered.

“I wouldn’t say anything, Mr. Cain,” the house dick whispered. “Not until Mr. Killeano comes.”

“Is he coming?” I asked.

“Sure. You’re a guest here, Mr, Cain. We want to get you out of this mess if we can.”

I stared at him. “I guess there’s no other hotel in the world with such service,” was all I could think to say.

He simpered at me, but avoided my eye.

I looked over at Miss Wonderly. She was still out, and I made a move to go to her.

“Hold it, Cain!” Flaggerty barked. “Stay where you are.”

I had a feeling that he’d shoot if I gave him half a chance, so I shrugged and sat down.

“You’d better get that dame out of her faint,” I said. “She’s got plenty of talking to do.”

“See what you can do with her,” Flaggerty said to the house dick.

The big man knelt beside her. She seemed to embarrass him, because he just stared and did nothing.

I looked around the room. Cigarette butts filled the ashtrays. Two bottles of Scotch stood empty on the mantelpiece. Another lay on the carpet and a big damp patch showed that it had leaked. There was a stink of spirits in the room. The rugs had been kicked up, a chair overturned. The stage had been set to look like a drunken orgy. It looked like a drunken orgy.

On the floor by the dead man was a heavy Luger pistol. The butt of the pistol had white hair and blood on it. I recognized the pistol. It was mine.

I sat staring at it, and I felt spooked. Unless Miss Wonderly started talking I was in a sweet jam. I hoped she’d start talking soon.

We sat around for half an hour without saying anything. Miss Wonderly moved once or twice and moaned, but she didn’t come out of her faint. It was the longest faint on record. Maybe she wanted to earn herself a title.

As I was beginning to lose patience, the door was thrown open and a short, square man, wearing a big black hat, bustled in. He reminded me of Mussolini when Mussolini used to shake his fist from his balcony. He took in the room at a glance, and then came straight to me.

“Cain?” he said, offering his hand. “I’m Killeano. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll see you get a straight deal. You’re my guest, and I know how to look after my guests.”

I didn’t shake his hand. I didn’t get up.

“Your political rival’s dead, Killeano,” I said, eyeing him up and down. “So you’ve got nothing to worry about either.”

He lowered his hand hurriedly and looked at Herrick.

“Poor fellow,” he said. I swear there were tears in his eyes. “He was a grand, clean fighter; this is a great loss to the Administration.”

“Save it for the newspapers.” I advised.

We were all posed there like a bunch of dummies when Miss Wonderly sat up and started to scream again.

Killeano turned out to be quite a guy for getting things organized. “We’re going to be fair to Cabin,” he said, thumping his fist on the back of a chair. “I know it looks bad for him, but he’s my guest, and I’m going to see he gets a break.”

Flaggerty muttered under his breath, but Killeano was the boss.

“So what?” Flaggerty asked, shrugging. “Why waste time? I want this guy down at headquarters for questioning.”

“We don’t know he’s guilty,” Killeano barked, “and I won’t have him arrested until I am satisfied you’ve got a case against him. We’ll question him here.”

“My pal.” I said.

He didn’t even look in my direction. “Keep that weman quiet,” he went on, pointing at Miss Wonderly, who sat alone, weeping into the house dick’s handkerchief. “I don’t want her shooting of her mouth until we’ve heard the other witnesses.”

I smoked and looked out of the window while Killeano yelled down the telephone and got things organized. Finally he had everything the way he wanted and we started. The reception clerk, the house dick, the elevator boy, Speratza and the barman from the Casino had been collected and lined up in the corridor outside. They were told to wait.

Miss Wonderly was taken into the bedroom in charge of a stout woman in black who’d been rushed up from the local jail to keep an eye on her. They told her to get dressed.

There were two tough-looking cops who stood behind my chair and pretended they weren’t going to slug me if I showed any signs of walking out on the assembly. There was Flaggerty, two plain-clothes dicks, a photographer and a doctor. There was a stenographer, a pop-eyed little man, who sat in a corner and scribbled away as if his life, and not mine, depended on him getting it all down straight. Then there was me, and, of course, my pal, Killeano.

“All right,” Kilieano said. “Now we start.”

Flaggerty nearly fell over himself to get his claws into me. He stood in front of me with his jaw thrust out and an ugly look in his beady little eyes. “You’re Chester Cain?” he demanded, as if he didn’t know.

“Yeah,” I said, “and you’re Lieutenant Flaggerty, the boy who hadn’t any friends to tell him.”

Killeano jumped up. “Look, Cain, this is a serious matter for you. Maybe you’d care to cut out the gags?”

“I’m the fall guy,” I said, smiling at him. “Why should you worry how I handle this louse?”