Джеймс Чейз - Goldfish Have No Hiding Place

He shook his head.

‘I’m not off duty until four.’

‘Come to my new apartment?’

Again he shook his head.

‘I’ll tell you something, Manson. Goldstein has his eye on you. Watch it. You could be tailed. If he saw you and me together, it would sink me.’

‘So what do we do?’

He thought about this, then said, ‘I’ll check if you’re being tailed. Give me your telephone number. If you’re in the clear, I’ll call you around midnight. I’ll say “Roger” and hang up. If you’re being tailed, I won’t call. If you aren’t, we meet here* tomorrow night. Bring the film and projector... right?’

‘Okay.’

He lit another cigarette and brooded for a moment, then he said, ‘Let’s look at this set-up. Let’s run through the suspects. There’s you, me, Creeden and Latimer. Your gun killed the creep so that puts you way ahead of the rest. I’m thinking as Goldstein would think. But if this hustler is giving it to you straight, the second film is the money maker so that puts Creeden who has that kind of money in the photo... right?’

I thought about Creeden. He was rich, tough and ruthless: not a man who would stand for blackmail. If his wife had been stealing and if Gordy tried to squeeze him for something like a million dollars, Creeden could turn killer. He had had the opportunity of stealing my gun, shooting Gordy and returning it.

But how did he know I had the gun?

I asked Brenner.

‘Pistol permits have to be cleared in this city by an acting magistrate,’ Brenner told me. ‘That’s what Creeden is.’

‘His signature wasn’t on the permit.’

‘He doesn’t sign it. It’s a matter of form. He okays it and the Chief of Police signs it.’

‘So he would have known I had the gun.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I ran into him coming away from Gordy’s house on the night of the murder. I ran into him when I got knocked on the head and lost the film. Damn it! It points to Creeden.’

Brenner showed his teeth in a cynical smile.

‘Try to prove it.’

I scribbled down my new telephone number and gave it to him.

‘I’m going back to my apartment now. Call me.’

‘If you don’t hear from me by midnight, you’re being tailed.’

Leaving the Half Moon bar, I walked to the end of the street before I found a taxi. I gave the driver my new address and looked through the rear window to see if I could spot anyone following me. At this hour the traffic was heavy. All I saw was a mass of cars behind the cab. Again I had a feeling of someone breathing down the back of my neck and I felt very alone.

When the cab stopped outside my apartment block, I paid the cabby, then took the elevator up to my new home. I turned on the light and looked around. Strange surroundings and again I felt lonely.

Whoever Jean had found to arrange things in the apartment had done a good job. There was even a vase of roses on an occasional table, but they didn’t help me.

I went into the bedroom, stripped off my jacket, dropped it on the bed, then went into the bathroom and washed my hands. Was this going to be my future life? I wondered, drying my hands on a towel. Alone? I thought of Jean. If she had been here, how the scene would have changed! How wonderful it would be!

I wandered back into the living room and sat down. I now thought of the film I had locked away in the safe deposit box. If, when I ran it off, it showed Mabel Creeden stealing, what was I going to do? Hand it over to Goldstein? Thinking about this, I decided no. Creeden, fighting back, could involve me too and Linda’s stealing would be exposed. At the moment, Chandler was leaning over backwards for me, but I was sure he would give me the gate if Linda’s stealing became news.

I would keep the film as an insurance. Someone had the reel of tape with Gordy’s voice threatening me with blackmail. This someone probably had the film showing Linda stealing. If this someone was Creeden, then he would hold onto this evidence in case Goldstein caught up with him. A clever defence attorney could shift the killing on to me.

I looked at my watch. The time was now 23.20. I would sit up until midnight, hoping Brenner would call. I lit a cigarette and tried to relax, but thoughts kept moving through my mind.

Then the front door bell rang.

I stiffened, hesitated, and after a long moment, I got to my feet, went into the lobby and opened the door.

Lieutenant Goldstein stood in the corridor. Behind him was a bulky man with cop written all over him.

‘I saw your light, Mr. Manson,’ Goldstein said smoothly. ‘May we come in? This is Sergeant Hammer.’

I stood aside.

‘I was just going to bed, Lieutenant, but come in. Can I offer you a drink?’

‘No, thank you.’ He entered the living room, glanced around, nodded as if with approval. ‘Nice place you have here.’

‘Just moved in. How did you know where to find me?’

He moved to a chair and sat down. Hammer went to the table and sat by it.

‘We have ways and means,’ Goldstein said and smiled his thin smile. ‘I tried to contact your wife, Mr. Manson. Apparently she is touring Mexico.’

‘Is she? I’m arranging a divorce, Lieutenant. Frankly, I couldn’t care less where my wife is right at this moment.’

I sat on the arm of a lounging chair.

‘Is that what you wanted to see me about?’ I asked, after a long pause.

‘No... no...’ He regarded me, his little eyes probing. ‘That gun of yours still worries me, Mr. Manson. When it was issued to Mr. Borg for you there was a box of slugs to go with it... fifty slugs. Right?’

I felt a slight tension.

‘That is correct.’

‘You still have the box of slugs?’

‘Yes.’

‘They should have been returned.’

‘In the confusion of the move here, I forgot them. If you will tell me to whom I should return them, I will do so.’

‘We won’t bother you with that. Let me have them now.’

‘You don’t mean you have come here at half past eleven to collect a box of cartridges, Lieutenant?’

‘I would like the slugs!’ There was a cop snap in his voice.

I shrugged and went to a closet. After a search, I found the box and handed it to him. He in turn handed it to Hammer who examined the cartridges.

‘Six missing,’ he said in a hard, flat voice.

‘I loaded the gun,’ I explained. ‘If you remember, the gun was stolen. The cartridges went with the gun.’

‘Yes.’ Goldstein stared down at his hands. ‘Mr. Manson, are you acquainted with Freda Hawes?’ He looked up sharply and his eyes probed. It was a sucker punch and it had me floundering for a brief second as he meant it to do.

‘Yes.’

I was back on even keel now, but the damage was done. Creeden had warned me about Goldstein. He had slipped in a mean one and he had got his reaction.

‘When did you last see her, Mr. Manson?’

I felt it time to assert myself.

‘Why should I answer that question, Lieutenant?’

He leaned forward, staring intently at me.

‘She was shot dead this evening. A cartridge case, matching these issued to you, was found by her side. I have reason to believe the gun that killed her also killed Gordy: the gun you allege was stolen from your car. So I ask again, when did you last see her?’

A long silence built up in the room while I stared at Goldstein. I felt a chill crawl over me and I felt blood leaving my face.

He and Hammer watched me the way a cat watches a mouse.

‘She’s dead?’ I finally managed to say.

‘That’s right. She’s dead.’

I hadn’t lived in the tough newspaper world for nothing. Somehow I pulled myself together and got my mind working.

‘Well, for God’s sake!’ I said. ‘I only saw her a couple of hours ago!’