James Chase - Miss Callaghan Comes to Grief

GRANTHAM’S OFFICE door burst open and Lu came in. He shut the door hurriedly and waved a newspaper. “It’s out already,” he said excitedly. “Look, boss, they’re playin’ it on the front page.”

Grantham reached out and took the paper. He glanced at it and then tossed it on one side. “Quicker than I thought,” he said, lighting a cigarette. “There’s goin’ to be a lot of guys yellin’ at me very soon.”

Lu sat on the edge of the desk. “That dame Perminger,” he said. “Was it the right thing to turn her over to Carrie?”

Grantham looked at him coldly. “Why not?”

“Suppose she gets away an’ talks?”

“What do you want me to do? Finish her?”

Lu nodded. “That would have been a lot safer.”

“Listen, I’m the guy with brains. I want to keep that dame just where I can reach her in a hurry. You and I are under Raven now. As long as he brings in the dough, it’s all right with us. Have you thought that, maybe, he won’t succeed? Suppose we don’t get anythin’ better out of this change−over? Would you like the job of shifting Raven?”

Lu glanced away. “Where’s this leadin’ to?”

“As long as we’ve got a witness that Raven killed Mendetta we’ve got Raven where we want him. If he slips, then the Perminger dame goes to the cops with my love.”

“Yeah? And she spills that you’ve been holding her in a knockin’−shop.”

Grantham’s thin mouth twisted into a smile. “She’ll do what she’s told, and she’ll say what I want her to say.”

Lu raised his eyebrows. “She may be tough,” he said.

“Carrie likes ’em tough.” Grantham reached forward and knocked the ash off his cigarette. “I’ve told her to start softenin’ her as soon as she comes to the surface. Carrie knows her job.”

“If Raven gets to hear about this it’s goin’ to be just too bad for you.”

“Raven won’t hear about it. Carrie knows me well enough not to open her mouth. You’re the only other one. If you say anythin’ to him you’ll only do yourself dirt. You an’ me get along all right, don’t we?”

Lu nodded. “Sure,” he said. “I was just thinkin’ of Carrie.”

The phone bell rang sharply. Grantham picked it up.

A girl said, “Judge Hennessey wants you.”

“Put him on the line,” Grantham said. “It’s that old heel Hennessey,” he whispered to Lu.

Hennessey’s voice sounded agitated. “What’s this about Mendetta?” he demanded. “Is it true?”

“Yes, Judge, I guess it’s true all right. He was shot last night.”

“Who did it?”

“We ah want to know that.” Grantham winked at Lu.

“Listen, Grantham, what are you doin’ about it? I want to know where I stand. Who’s goin’ to take over?”

“It’s all right, Judge, Tootsie fixed everything up with me months ago. He was expectin’ trouble. Yeah, he left everythin’ in my hands.”

“In your hands?” Hennessey’s voice sounded doubtful. “Can you carry on?”

“Sure I can carry on. Mendetta left everythin’ straightforward. The thing runs itself now, Judge.”

“I see.” There was a long pause, then he went on, “You been through the books yet?”

“Just this minute startin’ on them, Judge. You don’t have to worry. We want guys like you around.”

“Of course you do,” the Judge snapped. “Your outfit would look mighty sick without me. Mendetta sent it to me on the first of the month. You’d better do the same.”

“That’s okay with me, Judge. First of the month? Sure, it’ll be along.”

“Well, I wish you luck, Grantham. Maybe it does run on its own power. You watch it, won’t you?”

“I’ll watch it.” Grantham hung up. “Rat number one,” he said, pursing his mouth. “Wanted to know if his rake−off was to continue. Didn’t care a damn that Tootsie was dead. Just dough.”

Lu grinned. “It ain’t every organization who’s got a Judge in its pocket,” he said. “That guy may be expensive, but he’s done some nice work for us.”

Grantham unlocked a drawer in his desk and took out a little leather−bound note−book. He flicked through the pages and then, finding what he was looking for, he studied the page carefully. “Yeah,” he said; “last year he had seventeen of our girls before him. Twelve dismissals, four warnings and one small fine. Yeah, I guess he’s worth the dough all right.”

Once more the phone rang. “Yeah?” Grantham said, again picking up the receiver. “Yeah, it’s Grantham speaking. Is that you, Mr. Hackensfield?… How are you?… Mendetta? Sure we know he’s dead…. Yeah, too bad…. No, you don’t have to worry…. Sure we want you to work along with us. First of the month?… Yeah, we’re lookin’ into it right now…. Sure you’re useful…. That’s all right, Mr. Hackensfield. It’ll be along.” He hung up.

Lu said, “They like their dough, these guys.” Grantham nodded. “The District Attorney wanted to know if Mendetta’s death was goin’ to make any difference to his income,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “This is goin’ on all day, Lu. I may as well get used to it.”

“Are you makin’ any changes?”

Grantham shook his head. “Raven’s seen the list. He wants it to go on for a time. When that guy’s settled down he might start somethin’. He’s wise. He’s waitin’ until he’s strong enough to get tough.”

Lu moved towards the door as the phone went again. “I’ll leave you to it, boss,” he said. “See you in church.” He went out of the office.

Grantham grimaced and picked up the phone. “Mr. Poison wants you, Mr. Grantham,” a girl said.

“Put him through.” A cold, hard gleam came into Grantham’s voice. “Grantham?”

“That’s right. I wanted a little word with you, Mr. Poison…. Sureabout Mendetta. You’re wonderin’ about those shares?… So am I…. That’s right, I said I was wonderin’ too…. Sure I’ve taken over. Mendetta left everythin’ in my hands…. Why? Well, I’m the only guy who knows how the business is run…. That’s right.”

Poison said furiously, “He’s crazy to have left it to you. You don’t understand this business, Grantham. I’ve got to safeguard my investment. You’ve got to find someone who can look after the outside organization. You stick around all day in the Club. You’ve got to have someone outside watching those women. They’re lazy by nature. Mendetta understood them. He got the best out of them.”

Grantham smiled unpleasantly. “Take it easy,” he said. “I told you I’m runnin’ this business, and I am. I don’t care a damn about anythin’ you say, so leave off throwin’ your weight around.”

“By God! You can’t talk to me like this,” Poison exploded. “Half my money’s financing this business, and I’ve got a right to say how it should be run.”

“You’ve got a right to receive dividends when they come due,” Grantham said sharply, “but that’s all. I’m the boss around here and don’t you forget it.”

“You be careful how you talk to me,” Poison said, his voice thick with rage. “A word in the right direction would make things mighty unpleasant for you.”

Grantham laughed. “Forget it, Poison,” he jeered. “You can’t scare me with that stuff. What about you?

How would you look if it got around that half your money comes from brothel investments? I’ve got your signatures, don’t forget.”

There was a long pause, then Poison said more mildly: “Don’t let us quarrel, Grantham.”

Grantham nodded. “We won’t quarrel. Don’t you worry about the business. If it doesn’t keep up its returns I promise you I’ll have a talk with you in three months’ timehow’s that?”

“Very well. I’ll see how you manage for three months.”