Джеймс Чейз - Goldfish Have No Hiding Place

His fat face was as expressionless as a hole in a wall.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Did you research the Welcome store?’

‘No.’

I began to feel a chilly sensation.

‘Think, Wally. How did Jean get those names unless from you?’

‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’

‘Wally, please concentrate. This is vitally important to me to know the source of your information. I know you are always secretive about where you get your facts, but this time, because you and I are close friends, I ask you who told you these three women were stealing from the store.’

He lay there: a fat, broken lump and stared at me.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘What did you have in your briefcase that was stolen?’

His one eye closed and he moaned a little.

‘The Hammond thing.’

‘Nothing about the Welcome store?’

‘I don’t know a thing about that. I don’t know even what you are saying.’

Leaning forward, my voice hard, I said, ‘Wally! Pull yourself together! Think! You have been working on this stealing! You found someone who talked. You got names! Wally! Who was this someone?’

Okay, I was getting worked up and I must have raised my voice for the door opened and a nurse came in.

‘Your time is up, Mr. Manson,’ she said in that flat, final voice nurses have.

‘Wally!’

‘I don’t know anything,’ he said and putting his hands to his bandaged head, he began to groan.

The nurse practically threw me out. I walked down the corridor, into the elevator and into the night.

I stood by my car. Wally had been my big hope. I had a feeling that a door was slowly shutting and I was trying to hold it open, but the force of the door as it closed was pushing me back and defeating me.

Was Wally really suffering from amnesia or had someone so badly frightened him he was lying to me... as Webber had lied to me?

Leaving my car, I crossed the road to a drug store and rang Jean. There was a delay, then she answered.

‘Jean... it’s Steve. I’ve just seen Wally. He says he hasn’t researched the Welcome store. Did you keep a copy of his report you typed?’

A pause, then she said, ‘No.’

‘But you’re sure he did mention Lucilla Bower, Mabel Creeden and Sally Latimer?’

‘I am quite sure. I did warn you, Steve, that Wally just won’t give his informants away.’

‘You said there were other names. Try to think, Jean. It’s important.’

‘I’ve already thought. I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t remember any of the other names. His report was very brief. It said he had evidence that a number of women living at Eastlake had been stealing from the store. He then gave names. This was scribbled in his notebook. I typed it and gave him two copies.’

‘His notebook?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Maybe Shirley would have that.’

‘Should I ask her?’

‘No. I’ll do it. Well, thanks Jean... see you tomorrow.’

I got in my car and drove over to Wally’s home.

Shirley welcomed me. After talking about Wally and her delight about going to Palm Beach, I said, ‘Shirley, Wally had notebooks. I need them. Do you know where they are?’

‘Why sure. Mr. Webber took them all when he came. He said Mr. Chandler wanted them. You ask him... he’ll give them to you.’

‘Herman Webber?’ I stared at her.

‘He was here just as I got back. He said Mr. Chandler wanted all Wally’s notebooks.’

‘I see. I’ll talk to him.’

‘You do that.’ She wrinkled her pretty nose. ‘I can’t say I like Mr. Webber very much.’

‘Neither do I,’ I said and left her.

Herman Webber was a big, heavily built man who looked every inch a cop. His face could have been carved out of granite. His small blue eyes probed. His thin lips remained in a hard, unsmiling line.

‘Hello, Steve,’ he said, not getting up from behind his desk. ‘Sit down. What’s cooking?’

As soon as I had gone through the morning mail and had dictated to Jean, I had dropped everything and had driven over to Webber’s office.

‘Wally’s notebooks,’ I said, sitting down. ‘Shirley tells me you have them.’

‘Yeah.’

I stared at him.

‘What’s the idea?’

‘Playing it smart.’ Webber pulled at his cigar, clenched between his teeth and released a cloud of smoke in my direction. ‘That’s what I’m here for... to play it smart.’

‘So?’

‘That punk Goldstein has been questioning Wally. He wants to know who gave Wally the tip-off that Hammond has been padding the accounts. Wally always protects his informants. I know Wally keeps names in his notebooks so before Goldstein could get around to Shirley, I got around and I have the books.’

It sounded good, but too smooth to me.

‘So Shirley tells Goldstein — as she told me — that you have the books. So Goldstein comes to you and what do you do?’

Webber blew smoke at me.

‘Shirley is a cooperative girl. She won’t tell Goldstein. Like I said: I’ve played it smart.’

‘Fine.’ I stared at him. ‘Wally works for me. I want those books.’

He nodded.

‘If you want them, you can have them.’ He flicked down a switch on his intercom. ‘Mavis? Get me Mitford’s notebooks. Put them in a sack. Mr. Manson wants them.’ He looked at me. ‘Okay? Well, I guess you have work to do... me too.’

‘The Gordy file,’ I said. ‘I want it.’

His eyes turned a little sleepy.

‘I told you... some nut stole it with other files.’

‘Come on! Don’t feed me that crap! I have reason to believe you didn’t have a breakin. I want that file!’

‘Yeah?’ He was too much of a cop to betray any feelings. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I want that file. I believe you have it and I want it.’

‘I told you, pal, it was stolen. I haven’t got it.’

‘Gordy’s been murdered. Do you want me to tell Goldstein you had a breakin and Gordy’s file was stolen? I either get the file or that’s what I’ll tell him.’

‘Go ahead.’ Webber tapped ash off his cigar. He looked very sure of himself. ‘Why should I care?’

‘I’ll tell you why. Goldstein will want to know why you didn’t report the breakin and knowing Gordy has been murdered why you haven’t reported the theft of his file. He must love you. He could stick it in and turn it.’

‘You think so?’ He leaned forward, his little eyes suddenly glaring. ‘And you could land yourself in much more trouble if you start shooting your mouth off to Goldstein!’ His cop voice was like a punch in the face. ‘Keep your snout out of this. I’m telling you!’ He waved to the door. ‘Piss off! I’ve work to do!’

I got to my feet.

‘I’ll talk to Mr. Chandler. It’s time he knew what’s going on.’

‘Yeah?’ He sat back and his thin lips twisted into a sneering grin. ‘Take another think. Can’t you get it into your skull that I am protecting you? You drag the boss into this and you’re really in the crap. Now piss off and let me get on with my work!’

I then realised he had the ace against my queen. I’m protecting you. That must mean he knew about Linda and her thieving.

As I went into the outer office, Mavis Sherman, thin, dark and worried looking, handed me a plastic sack stuffed with Wally’s notebooks.

Back in my office, I laid the books on my desk. There were fourteen of them. Each book was numbered from one onwards. I found No. 13 was missing. I didn’t bother to examine the books. I was sure No. 13 covered the stealing at the Welcome store. Like the Gordy file, it had gone missing.

I sat back and thought about the situation. Webber’s warning told me I couldn’t go to Chandler. If I got tough with Webber, he could get tougher with me. I was sure someone (Webber?) had thrown a scare into Wally. Maybe this was wrong thinking. The beating Wally had had could have scared him, but I didn’t think so. I felt almost sure that Wally had been warned as I had been warned. Keep your mouth shut or else...