Джеймс Чейз - Goldfish Have No Hiding Place

I decided I would have to see Wally tonight. Maybe if I confided in him, handling him gently, telling him about the mess Linda had landed me in, I could persuade him to talk.

The telephone bell rang and from then until lunchtime I was caught up in the business of producing a magazine.

After lunch, Jean came in to tell me my personal things had been packed and had been taken to the Eastern Avenue apartment.

‘You can move in whenever you like,’ she said. ‘It’s all ready. I’ve ordered a stock of groceries: coffee, milk and canned food.’

‘You’re really wonderful, Jean,’ I said, looking at her with an ache in my heart. ‘I’d like to buy you a very expensive dinner... may I?’

‘Thanks, but no.’

‘This invitation also includes your boyfriend. I would like to meet him.’

She regarded me, her eyes serious.

‘Look, Steve, please leave me my private life. It’s my job to look after you in the office and at home if I can. May we leave it like that?’ She gave me a ghost of a smile, then returned to her room.

Well, I thought, that was final enough.

I was kept busy until after 18.00, then I left Jean to lock up and drove to the hospital. I went to the reception desk and asked if I could see Mr. Wally Mitford.

‘You’ve missed him,’ the girl told me.

I gaped at her.

‘Missed him? What do you mean?’

‘He left with his wife in an ambulance half an hour ago.’

Again I felt that chilly sensation.

‘Where has he gone?’

‘I don’t really know.’

‘Is Dr. Stanstead still here?’

‘He’s in his office.’

I found Stanstead preparing to go home.

‘What’s all this about Wally? I’m told he’s gone.’

He shrugged. He looked weary and harassed.

‘I don’t approve, but there it is. They’ve taken him by ambulance to the airport and are flying him to Miami. He wanted to go and he was fit enough to travel... so he’s gone.’

‘Was this something Mr. Chandler arranged?’

‘I guess so. Mr. Borg handled it.’

‘Shirley went with him?’

‘Yes. He’s to go to some clinic either in Miami or Palm Beach.’

‘You don’t know the clinic?’

‘No. Look, Steve, I’ve got more work than I can cope with,’ he said impatiently. ‘I’m sure Wally will be in good hands and the sun will do him good.’

‘Yes. Well, see you, Henry,’ and I left the hospital, got in my car and sat thinking.

Was there a conspiracy going on? First Gordy’s file, the film and the blow-ups had vanished, then the reel of tape, recording Gordy’s blackmail threat to me, had been stolen, then Wally’s notebook had gone missing and now Wally had been whisked out of reach. I had an uneasy feeling that someone was breathing down my neck.

What to do?

The door now seemed shut. Trying to control a rising panic, I told myself the only thing I could do was to sit it out and hope nothing would develop. Maybe nothing would, but I felt sure, at the back of my mind, I was kidding myself.

I started to drive home. This was a reflex action. Halfway, I remembered there would be no food in the house so I pulled into the forecourt of the Imperial hotel. There I had a steak. As I was paying the check, the front man came over to me.

‘Mr. Manson?’

‘That’s right.’

‘There’s a telephone call for you... booth 5.’

Surprised, I took the call. It was Sergeant Brenner.

‘Saw your car,’ he said curtly. ‘I want to talk to you. Do you know the Half Moon bar?’

‘I don’t.’

‘It’s on 15th Street, next to the drug store. You can’t miss it. Take a cab: you can’t park anyway. Ask for Jake. See you in half an hour,’ and he hung up.

I picked up a cab outside the hotel, leaving my car in the hotel’s forecourt.

The Half Moon bar was sleazy and half empty. There were three painted hookers propping up the bar. A couple of coloured men were drinking beer at one of the tables. A dirty-looking youth with hair to his shoulders was sitting at another table, aimlessly picking his nose.

As I walked up to the bar, a beefy man in shirtsleeves flopped a dirty rag in front of me and began polishing.

‘You Jake?’ I asked.

He eyed me over, nodded, then jerked his thumb towards a door. Watched by the three hookers, I pushed open the door, climbed a short flight of stairs and pushed open another door.

Brenner was nursing a beer. The room was small: a bed, a table and two chairs. A torn blind screened the window. I closed the door.

‘This looks like a set for a B movie,’ I said, joining him at the table.

‘Yeah, but it’s safe. Jake owes me a lot. I could have put him away for five years. Sit down.’

I pulled up a chair and sat down.

‘Freda Hawes,’ Brenner said. ‘I’ve checked her out and so has Goldstein. She says nothing, even under pressure. She says she slept with Gordy from time to time, but she knows nothing about him. She’s scared and she’s lying. She’s not opening her mouth to the Law, but she just could talk to you. I could be wrong, but it’s worth a try.’

‘She could be a blackmailer. She could have the film and the blow-ups. I don’t want to tangle with her.’

‘I’ll be surprised if she is. She’s not the type and I know blackmailers. Go take a look at her. She hangs out at the Blue Room on 22nd. You’ll find her there any time from now to dawn. She’s a drinker. If you think you can handle her, talk to her. When a guy sleeps with a woman, sooner or later, he lets his hair down. I’m pretty sure Gordy has stashed away that film somewhere. He might have told her. That’s our only hope, Manson. We’ve got to get to that film before Goldstein does.’

I didn’t like this, but at least, I could take a look at this woman.

‘How do I know her?’

‘Short, dark, around twenty-five, well built,’ Brenner said. ‘You can’t miss her. Her thing is to wear brass bracelets that crawl half way up her arms.’

‘Okay, I’ll take a look.’ I then told him I was moving into the apartment on Eastern Avenue. He wrote down my telephone number.

‘Goldstein has talked to Creeden, to Latimer and the rest of them,’ Brenner went on. ‘Kid glove stuff. Very smooth, gentle, just probing, but he’s probing. He’ll come to you next, so watch it. He is asking have you any idea that there was stealing at the Welcome store? Of course everyone has been open-eyed and saying no, but Goldstein is a damn smart cookie. He digs in the question fast and there is always a blink of the eyes and that is what he is watching for. He’s got nowhere so far, but once he gets his teeth into a murder case, he is hard to shake loose.’

‘I’ll watch it.’ I wondered if I should tell him about the reel of tape and about Wally’s notebook. I decided not. I had a feeling that I would be better off if I kept my mouth shut from now on and tried to work this out on my own.

‘I’ll go along to the Blue Room right away. Suppose you call me tomorrow morning at the office? We could meet here again if I have anything.’

‘Yeah, but I don’t want to call you. Let’s meet this time tomorrow.’

‘Okay.’

I left him, made my way down the stairs, nodded to Jake who nodded back, then went out onto the busy street to find a cab.

The Blue Room was a cellar club on the corner of 22nd and East which placed it near Freda Hawes’ pad.

The cabbie who drove me there looked searchingly at me as I paid him.

‘It’s not my business, buddy,’ he said when he saw the size of my tip, ‘but that joint is strictly not for you. If you’re yearning to get mugged you’re heading in the right direction.’

‘Thanks.’

I stepped back. He stared at me again, lifted his heavy shoulders and drove away.