James Chase - Miss Callaghan Comes to Grief

He drove round the block once, and as the hands of a street clock moved to the half−hour, he drew up outside Marie Leroy’s apartment house.

She was standing in the hallway waiting, and as he drew up she picked up two handbags and ran down the steps. He made no effort to get out. From where he sat he could see people peering round curtains all down the street. He wasn’t going to let them give his description to the cops if anyone got suspicious.

“Can you manage?” he called. “The bags can go in the boot behind. It’s quite easy to open. My engine’s cold. I’ve got to nurse her along for a minute.”

“That’s all right,” she said, and he felt two thuds as the bags were dumped in the back. Leaning over, he opened the off−door and she got in. She wore the same red−and−white−spotted dress, and as she sat down the skirt rode up. Her long tapering legs sent a little shiver through him. She pulled her skirt down and laughed nervously. “Some car,” she said.

“Like it?” He engaged the gears. “We’ve got a mighty long way to go. I’ve been sleepin’ all the afternoon an’ I want to get as far as I can tonight.”

She relaxed back against the upholstered seat. “I like driving at night. When you get tired may I drive?”

He looked at her. “Can you?”

“Of course.”

This was something he hadn’t thought of. If they took it in turns to sleep and drive they’d halve the time.

“That’s fine,” he said, and meant it.

He drove steadily, keeping to an even forty miles an hour. He had no wish to get an excited speed cop on his trail. Goshawk had given him forged licence papers, but even with those he wasn’t going to take chances.

As they neared the outskirts of the town Marie said, “Look, there’s a barricade ahead. How exciting! You’ll have to stop.”

Raven eased the gun loose in its shoulder−holster and stopped the car a few feet from the swinging red light.

Three State troopers came up to the car. Two of them carried Thompsons.

Raven felt his mouth go dry, but he kept his head.

Marie leant out of the window. “What is it?” she asked.

They played a powerful light on her and then turned it on Raven, who had quickly removed his hat.

“What’s the trouble, officer?” he asked. “I wasn’t goin’ too fast, was I?”

“Let’s have a look at your papers, buddy,” the State trooper said, resting his foot on the running−board.

Raven noticed that the other two troopers had relaxed and were no longer pointing their guns at him.

He produced his papers. “Here you are,” he said.

Marie seemed to be getting on well with the other two troopers. Raven couldn’t hear what she was saying as she was leaning out of the window, but one of the troopers laughed suddenly and he heard her laugh too.

Hardly glancing at the licence papers, the trooper returned them. “Your wife, I guess?” he asked.

Raven nodded.

“Okay, bud, on your way.”

Raven engaged his gears and the car slid past the barricade. A sudden thought had struck him. He’d got to be damn careful with this girl. What a fool he’d been not to have remembered!

She said excitedly, “They’re looking for Public Enemy No. 1. A man called Raven. He’s supposed to be hiding in the town. Isn’t it exciting?”

“Yeah,” he said, with a little grin, “but I’ve got some news for you that’ll startle you. I was crazy to have brought you, sister.”

Her eyes opened. “Why?”

He continued to drive. “Ever heard of the Mann Act?”

“Why, yes? What’s that got to do with it?”

“Plenty. It’s an offence to take any dame but your wife over a State line. There’s a twenty−years rap hanging to it.”

Marie’s eyes opened. “Butbut they let us through.”

Raven’s mouth twitched. “YeahI told ’em you were my wife. The car, the clothes and the general set−up passed us.”

There was a long pause. Then Raven said, “Unless you agree to bein’ my wife on this trip, we’d better turn round.”

Marie stared straight in front of her. Then she said bitterly, “I might have guessed I’d have to pay one way or another for a trip like this.”

Raven put his foot on the brake and the car came to a standstill. “Say the word, sister, and back we go.”

She looked at him and shook her head. “It’s okay. I dare say it won’t kill me,” she said, and settled once more comfortably.

Raven sent the car shooting forward. He knew it was in the bag now.

Neither of them spoke for some time. The Chrysler tore through the night, ripping miles off the State Highway. As the hands of the dashboard clock crept on the night grew colder. Both of them began to feel stiff and chilly.

Raven said, “Just ahead is Williamsburg. I guess we’ll stop there for a drink.”

Marie rubbed her bare arms. “I’ll get a coat out when we get there,” she said.

In ten minutes they reached the town and Raven stopped the car outside a small all−wood hotel. He went round to the boot and helped her get out a light dust−coat. He also took out a rug.

They went into the hotel together. The clock was just striking a quarter to twelve. They went into a deserted lobby and ordered coffee and rum from a startled negro waiter.

“Tired?” Raven asked, as they sipped the steaming coffee.

She shook her head. “We’ll go on.” She was very decided about it. Raven grinned to himself.

They got up to go when they had finished. She said, “Shall I drive?”

He nodded. “Sure, if you want to. We’ll go on to Columbia, then maybe we’ll get some sleep.”

She bit her lip. “Couldn’t you sleep now? Then we could drive all the time.”

“So we could,” he said. “You’re sure in a hurry to get there, ain’t you?”

And he followed her out to the car.

September 14th, 11.10 a.m.

HOGARTY SAID, “Think it’s Raven?”

Jay and he stared down at the battered Goshawk. Two cops who stood in the room watched them with bored eyes. They never had much use for Federal Agents.

Jay shrugged. “It might be.”

“Let’s go over the ground again,” Hogarty said, turning from the bed. “The girl downstairs says that the guy who had this room never went out. Goshawk always took up his meals. No one else in the hotel ever saw him. That points to Raven, don’t it?”

Again Jay shrugged. “Maybe,” he said.

“Then the girl over the way. How does she fit in?”

“Suppose we talk to the kid again?”

They went downstairs, where a round−eyed maid stood waiting. Hogarty jerked his head. “Come inside here, sister, an’ let’s go through with it again. Your name’s Alice Cohen, ain’t it?”

The girl nodded.

“Your boss sent you across to the apartment house opposite to ask after a certain Marie Leroyright?”

Again she nodded.

“Well, go on.”

“He wanted to find out who she was. The landlady told me. She was a dancer who wanted to go to Hollywood.”

“Why should this guy Goshawk want to know that?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

“You never saw the guy who had that room?”

“No, but Mr. Goshawk sent me out for some tinted spectacles and a bottle of hair bleach. He didn’t use them himself. I got to thinking they were for this fella who had the room.”

Hogarty and Jay exchanged glances.

“I see,” Hogarty said. “Anythin’ else.”

“I heard Mr. Goshawk arrange about buying a Chrysler car. I was surprised, because Mr. Goshawk was always tight with his dough. I thought he was steppin’ out a bit.”

“All right, baby, you’re doin’ fine.” Hogarty was excited. “I’ll talk to you again in a while. Just stick around.”