James Chase - You Must Be Kidding

‘Madam...’

‘Don’t talk to me. Understand, Reynolds? We know nothing! Go about your work!’

‘He could continue, madam.’

‘Who are these people? Who cares?’ Amelia’s voice was shrill. ‘A whore! A hippy! Who cares?’

‘But, madam...’

‘We know nothing!’ Amelia screamed at him. ‘Do you want to lose your job? Do you imagine I want to be thrown out of my home? It is not our business! We know nothing!’

Reynolds saw the terrifying vision of himself out of work with no more unlimited supply of Scotch. He hesitated, then felt impelled to issue a warning.

‘Madam, he is very dangerous. He just might attack you.’ He refrained from adding that Crispin might also attack him.

‘Attack me? I am his mother! Stop drivelling, and go about your work! We know nothing!’

Terrell sat at his desk. Hess, Beigler and Lepski occupied chairs. All men were sipping coffee which Charlie Tanner had brought in.

‘We are getting nearer to this mad man,’ Terrell said. ‘This is our first important break: the fourth jacket. The other three owners don’t match up with this description.’ He looked at Lepski. ‘This girl satisfied you she knew what she was talking about?’

‘Yeah,’ Lepski said. ‘She knew.’

‘So this must be the jacket Mrs. Gregg gave away to the Salvation Army. This is the jacket we want to trace.’ Terrell paused to light his pipe. ‘But according to the description of this man, he wasn’t on the end of a handout from the S.A. A man who can afford Gucci shoes could afford to buy his own jacket... right?’

‘We have a load of phonies living here,’ Hess said. ‘Guys who haven’t a dime. Gigolos, stags, con men: you name them, we have them, all battening on the rich, trying for the fast buck, and these guys have to keep up an appearance. Could be this guy spotted the jacket on the S.A. truck and either stole it or offered a five spot for it. Maybe he got his Gucci shoes either by stealing them or from a clothes dealer at a knock down price.’

Terrell nodded.

‘Could be. So okay, let’s check the clothes dealers. Tom, you get it organized. We want to know if any dealer has sold a pair of Gucci shoes and to whom.’

At this moment Dusty Lucas came in.

‘Chief, I think I’ve got something,’ he said excitedly. ‘I’ve been checking on those two S.A. collectors. I’ve got the truck driver here — Joe Heinie. His father is Syd Heinie who runs a used clothes store in Secomb. I went to this guy’s home and caught him unloading a bundle of clothes off the S.A. truck. He’s admitted he passes some of the clothes they collect to his father to sell.’

Hess got to his feet.

‘I’ll handle him, Chief.’

Joe Heinie was sitting on a bench the other side of the barrier with a patrolman standing over him. He was around twenty-eight, tall, thin with a mop of dirty black hair and a sullen expression on his badly shaven face.

Hess and Lepski sat him down in front of a desk, then with Lepski hovering near him, Hess sat down, facing him.

‘You could be in trouble, Joe,’ Hess said.

Heinie looked up and sneered.

‘Trouble? You’re crazy! What trouble? These goddamn clothes are given away... right?’

‘They are given to the Salvation Army. You have no right to take them for yourself,’ Hess snapped.

‘Yeah? What does the S.A. do with them? They give them away. So what’s wrong in giving a few to my father? What’s the difference?’

‘How long have you been doing this?’

‘Six months... I don’t remember. Who cares?’

‘You’ll care, Joe. You have been stealing clothes from the Salvation Army. Could get you three months.’

Heinie sneered again.

‘Yeah? You can’t pin a charge on me. I know my rights. Some fink gives me clothes. He gives them to me... right? Okay, so I pick out a few items and give them to my father... right? Then I give the rest to the S.A.’ He leaned forward and jabbing his finger in Hess’s direction, he went on, ‘The clothes are not the S.A.’s property until I deliver them... right?’

‘The clothes are the property of the S.A. the moment you put them in the S.A.’s truck,’ Hess said, looking smug.

Heinie’s sneer deepened.

‘That’s right,’ he said, ‘but the goddam truck is mine! I help the S.A. voluntarily. I pay for the gas and the insurance. So, I’m entitled to give my old man some clothes to pay my expenses... right?’

Hess breathed heavily.

‘Never mind,’ he said, realizing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Heinie. ‘We are interested in this blue jacket with golf ball buttons. Did you give such a jacket to your father?’

‘How should I know?’ Heinie demanded. ‘I don’t examine everything I give my old man. I give him a bundle, and he picks what he can sell, then gives the rest back to me, and I give them to the S.A.’

Hess looked at Lepski.

‘Check with his father,’ he said.

As Lepski left, he heard Heinie say, ‘So I’m not in trouble, huh? I can’t afford the time to sit around chewing the fat with you...’

‘A real smart ass,’ Lepski thought as he hurried to his car. He drove fast to Secomb.

Syd Heinie was tall like his son, with hard little eyes and a rattrap of a mouth. His store was crammed with discarded clothing. When Lepski strode in, Heinie was measuring a fat black for a pair of trousers.

Lepski moved restlessly around until the purchase was made, then Heinie came to him. He surveyed Lepski, and instinctively knew he was a cop. He smiled, but his eyes hardened.

Lepski flashed his shield, and in his cop voice, said, ‘We are looking for a blue jacket with white golf ball buttons. Have you had such a jacket through your hands?’

Heinie put the stub of a pencil in his right ear, twisted it, removed it and flicked off a piece of wax.

‘I can’t say I have,’ he said. ‘With white golf ball buttons?’

Lepski restrained his impatience with an effort.

‘Yeah.’

Heinie dug the pencil stub into his left ear, twisted it, removed it and flicked more wax.

‘Golf ball buttons, huh? Let me think.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Unusual kind of jacket, huh?’

Lepski made a soft growling noise.

‘Well, now I think of it, I did have a jacket with golf ball buttons.’

Lepski stiffened to attention. At last, a break!

‘You said blue, didn’t you?’ Heinie asked.

‘Yeah.’

Heinie shook his head.

‘This jacket was brown. I remember it. Must have been two years, maybe three years ago. Sort of jacket that sticks in the mind, huh?’

‘This jacket is blue!’ Lepski snarled.

Heinie thought some more.

‘No... I haven’t seen it.’

‘Look, Mr. Heinie, this is important,’ Lepski rasped. ‘This is to do with a murder investigation.’

‘Sure... sure.’ Heinie nodded. ‘No, I haven’t seen a blue jacket with golf ball buttons. A brown one... sure, back two, three years ago, but no blue one.’

‘Maybe one of your staff...’

‘I don’t have a staff,’ Heinie said. ‘Who wants staff these days?’

Police work! Lepski thought in disgust. ‘Gucci shoes?’

‘Huh?’

‘Have you sold a pair of Gucci shoes to anyone anytime?’

‘You mean those Italian shoes?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Don’t ever get them. You want a fine pair of shoes? I can show you...’

‘Forget it!’ Lepski snarled. ‘And watch it, Heinie! Your son could get into trouble giving you clothes intended for the Salvation Army.’

‘Not Joe... he’s too smart to get into trouble,’ Heinie said, and grinned.

Lepski stamped out of the store and made his way to his car. Then the thought struck him he had to buy a handbag for Carroll. He paused by his car. Where the hell was he going to buy a goddam handbag on Saturday afternoon? If there was one thing Lepski loathed it was shopping.