James Chase - Miss Callaghan Comes to Grief

He called, “Come here.”

Sadie came in. “Yes?” she said.

Grantham stared at her and then went pale. He recognized her at once. He’d been wondering where the hell she had got to. Carrie had been sent to Kansas City, and he had lost track of her. He had made efforts to trace her as he knew Sadie would be with her, and he’d failed.

Sadie looked at him, recognized him as the man who got her into this trouble, and flinched away from him.

Raven noticed the changes in their expressions.

He said to her roughly, “Get out!” And when she had gone he turned on Grantham. “You know her?”

Grantham wondered if this was a trap. He eased his collar with a limp finger. “Yeah,” he said, “she was one of the first girls I shanghaied.”

Raven nodded. “That’s right,” he said; “I found her at the nigger’s house. She’s got reason to hate you, hasn’t she?” and he laughed.

Grantham was very uneasy. He wasn’t sure how much Raven knew. If Raven had an inkling that Sadie could name him as Mendetta’s killer, surely he wouldn’t have her around? He was so bewildered that he wanted to get away and think about it. He moved to the door. “So you think Ellinger can be taken care of?” he said.

Raven studied his nails. “Why not?” he said, pulling his dressing−gown cord tighter round his waist.

“Make an accident of it… you know.”

Grantham nodded. “I’ll get it done,” he said, and went away.

Raven sat brooding. There was something he couldn’t understand about Sadie. First Carrie and now Grantham. They both showed uneasiness when they were in his presence and Sadie’s. He went into the other room.

Sadie was kneeling amid the tracks and the big outfit. She looked up quickly.

“Old pal of yours, huh?” Raven said.

She looked at him searchingly and then went on adjusting the line.

Raven felt a sudden vicious spurt of rage run through him as he stood behind her. He knelt down at her side and pushed her over. She fell off balance across the tracks and her shoulders flattened a miniature station.

She gave a little cry as the tin of the station dug into her flesh.

Grinning at her, Raven pushed her flat and then, amid the railway, flattened by their bodies, he had her.

September 8th, 10.30 a.m.

JAY ELLINGER parked his car in the big courtyard of the Preston Building and asked the commissionaire for Benny Perminger.

The commissionaire shook his head. “He left here a couple of weeks ago,” he said. “Mr. Caston would tell you where he went.”

Jay followed him into the reception hall. After a delay of phoning the commissionaire jerked his head to the elevator. “Third floor. Sixth door on the right,” he said.

Jay found Caston looking worried. He shook hands with him and accepted a chair.

“You a friend of Perminger’s?” Caston asked.

Jay nodded. “I’ve been out of town for some time,” he explained. “I wanted to get in touch with him. It’s important.”

Caston played with his penholder. “Well, I’m glad someone wants to find him,” he said. “I’ve been worried about that guy.”

“He’s left here?”

Caston pulled a face. “Between you an’ me, he was hoofed out. I liked that guy, you know. He was a good salesman. Then his wife ran away from him. That put him on the skids. I’ve never seen a man go to pieces so quickly.”

“What happened then?”

“He began hittin’ the bottle. It got so bad that we couldn’t keep him any longer. We all tried to hide it up, but the management got on to it in the end. He didn’t get any business. We had complaints. It was a bad show.”

Jay grunted. “Well, where is he? What’s he doin’ now?”

Caston shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “The last time I heard from him he was working for an addressing agency. Not much in that, you know.” He opened one of his desk drawers and searched, then he produced a little note−book. “He’s staying at an apartment house on 26th Street. If you can do anything for that guy I’ll be mighty pleased. He wants looking after.”

Jay scribbled the address down and got up. “Thanks, Mr. Caston,” he said, “I’ll go an’ see him.”

The apartment house reminded Jay of Fletcher. He thought, as he went up the steps, that this Slave racket was not only ruining the lives of hundreds of girls, but its repercussions were affecting the lives of their menfolk. It made him all the more determined to burst it open.

On the top floor he found Benny seated at a table scribbling away at a furious pace. A large stack of addressed envelopes lay on the table and bundles of other envelopes lay around the room. Benny looked a complete wreck. He hadn’t shaved for several days, and his eyes were heavy and glazed. A strong smell of stale whisky came from him as he lurched to his feet, nearly overturning the table.

He said, “For God’s sake,” and shook hands eagerly. “I’ve given you up. Sit down, buddy, an’ have a drink.”

Jay looked round the grimy room. One glance was enough to tell him that Perminger was up against it. He refused the drink, but lit a cigarette. Benny poured himself a long shot of neat spirit. He held the unlabelled bottle to the light and scowled. “Hell! Someone’s been stealing this stuff.” He said angrily, “There was half a bottle here last night.”

Jay said, “Forget it. I want to talk to you. What’s all this business?” He waved his hand around the room.

Benny shrugged. “I gotta live,” he said. “It’s a lousy job, but it pays for this.” He tapped the bottle and winked.

Jay got up and wandered to the window. “You didn’t turn up anything when I was away?” he said over his shoulder.

“Listen, I ain’t interested any more.” Benny’s voice was sullen.

“Lost your guts?” Jay said.

“Yeah, so would you.”

“Well, come on, let’s have it. Have you found out anything about your wife?”

Benny poured himself out another drink. “I haven’t got a wife,” he said.

Jay lost patience with him. He came back to the table. “Listen. Don’t be a heel. Your wife disappeared, didn’t she? She’s probably working for this Slave racket right now. I’m going to find her, and you’re going to help me.”

Benny’s face was white and his eyes looked wild. “No, you’re not,” he said, speaking through clenched teeth. “She wasn’t slaved. I’ve seen her. It was a trick. She’s livin’ with some guy at the St. Louis Hotel. I even spoke to her, but she cut me dead. Wouldn’t even look at me.”

Jay stiffened to attention. “You’re sure of this?” he demanded.

“Think I’d make a thing like that up?” Benny said, looking at him with hurt, angry eyes. “Of course I’m sure. She’s livin’ with that guy in luxury. That’s what she’s always wanted. She was always bellyachin’ about doin’ the washin’ and lookin’ after the apartment. Now she’s got what she wants. The dirty little chippy.”

“You may be misjudging her, Perminger,” Jay reminded him. “She might have to be there.”

Benny sneered. “Don’t talk bull. I tell you I spoke to her. She just looked through me. She could have got away if she wanted to. She was by herself. I followed her to the hotel. I found out from the porter all about them. The guy’s name’s Cruise. She’s posin’ as his wife.”

Jay sat down limply. He felt the ground had been cut from under him. “Who is this guy Cruise?” he asked.

Benny shrugged. “I don’t know, an’ I don’t care. I ain’t goin’ to start anythin’ with him. If that’s the life she likes, she can have it. I’m through with her.”

Jay got slowly to his feet. He felt that it was only wasting time. He said, “Well, I’m sorry, Perminger. It’s tough,” and shook hands.