Джеймс Чейз - Safer Dead [= Dead Ringer]

‘I guess I haven’t forgotten anything,’ he said, wandering over to plug in the electric kettle.

I unfolded the newspaper. The double murder had been given a spread. Lieutenant Carson said in his statement that the police had a number of important clues and they were anxious to interview a tall, dark, well-built man, wearing a dark grey suit and dark hat who they thought might be able to give them information that would lead to the solution of the murders. They didn’t mention my name, and I was surprised that the description was so vague.

‘That you?’ Benn asked as he put two eggs in a saucepan.

‘Yeah,’ I said and taking the hair dye he had got me over to the toilet basin I started to tone my hair down to a darker shade.

By the time he had soft boiled the eggs, made some coffee and toast I was through. The extra shade made a difference. He had brought me a twist of black hair and a small bottle of spirit gum, but before I made myself a moustache I sat down to breakfast.

Benn leaned against the wall, a cigarette between his fingers and watched me eat.

‘Have you known Captain Bradley, long?’ I asked him as I decapitated an egg.

‘Twelve years. He was my commanding officer during the war. He saved my life twice, talked me out of a court martial, got me three weeks leave when my wife was dying and when the General said no one was to have leave,’ Benn said, staring at the glowing end of his cigarette. ‘I’d cut my right arm off for him if it would do him any good.’

‘Some place you have here.’

He grinned.

‘Don’t get wrong ideas, Bud. This was here when I bought the joint. It used to be one of Capone’s liquor dumps. Now and then someone wants to cool off and it comes in handy. When Cap Bradley was in charge I kept it shut, but now these skates are running the police force I oblige where I can.’ He took a drag from his cigarette. ‘It’ll cost you twenty a day. I’m saving up for a trip to Europe, otherwise I wouldn’t charge you.’

I grinned at him.

‘That’s okay. Make it thirty. I run an expense sheet.’

He sighed enviously.

‘That’s something I’ve always wanted to do. You’ve got nothing to worry about as long as you stay here.’

I decapitated the second egg.

‘Take the weight off your feet.’

He reached for a bottle of beer, levered off the cap with his teeth, then sat down, nursing the bottle.

‘I can’t stay long. I’ve work to do.’

‘How do I get hold of you when I want you?’

‘Use the telephone. I’m the only one who answers it.’

‘Have you got anyone to run messages for me? There’s a package I want taken to Welden.’

‘I’ve got a boy, but he might talk. Can’t you mail it?’

‘It’s got to get there today.’

‘Safer to mail it.’

‘Okay. Now can you get me some writing paper? A lot of it?’

‘There’s some in the table drawer.’

‘Fine. I guess for the moment that covers it.’

He took a long pull at the bottle of beer, sighed, wiped his lips on the back of his hand and stood up.

‘You’ve got plenty of food. Just help yourself. I’ll be down again.’

I took out my billfold, checked my money, then gave him two fifties. I had already given him the money for the things he had bought me, and when he took the tray and left me, I undid the parcels and put on the brown sports suit he had got for me. It was a good fit without being over smart. I could be one of a crowd in it without attracting attention.

I spent half an hour making myself a moustache. It was a hair-by-hair job, and when I had trimmed it, it looked the genuine article. With the new suit, the toned down hair and the moustache I doubted if even Bernie would recognize me. I had trouble in recognizing myself.

I made a parcel of the .38 automatic, disguising its shape as well as I could. Then I sat down by the telephone and called police headquarters at Welden. When I got through I asked for Police Captain Creed.

‘This is Sladen,’ I said when he came on the line. ‘I’ve got a report and a gun for you. I want you to have them today. Can you send someone over to pick them up?’

‘I could do,’ Creed said. ‘What’s this about Hartley? Who rubbed him out?’

‘Your pals here think I did. That’s my description in the papers. They’re looking for me now. Until I get things straightened out I’m keeping out of sight, and out of your sight too. You’ll get all the details in the report. The gun did the killing. I want it checked for prints and ownership. I’ll leave it with Sam Benn who runs a bar on Maddox Street. Get someone over fast for it.’

‘How do they hook you into the killing?’ Creed asked sharply.

‘I was there a few minutes after it happened. Lassiter caught me nosing around. I ducked out fast.’

‘Look, Sladen, if they want you...’

‘I know; I know. I’m not asking for help. I can handle this myself. Get the gun checked for me. That’s all I want. I’ll be calling you again. So long for now,’ and I hung up.

I spent the next hour writing a full report of the situation to date. Benn came in as I was putting the report in an envelope.

He started and stared.

‘For crying out loud!’ he exclaimed, moving around me. ‘I wouldn’t have known you. You can relax, Bud. There’s not a cop in town who’d spot you.’

‘It’s not bad, is it?’ I said, fingering my moustache. ‘I should get by. I’ve fixed for someone to pick up this package and letter. He’ll be from the Welden police and I’ve told him to pick them up from you. Okay?’

‘Sure.’ He took the package and the letter. ‘Feels like a gun.’

‘That’s what it is.’ I tilted back my chair and went on, ‘Have you been in this town long?’

‘Since the war.’

‘Then you’d know most of the characters.’

‘I know some of them.’

I produced Fay Benson’s photograph and showed it to him.

‘Ever seen her?’

He examined the photograph, then shook his head.

‘I don’t think so. These girls all look alike, but I don’t remember her.’

I retrieved the photograph and put it back in my billfold.

‘Know anything about Cornelia Van Blake?’

His face hardened.

‘She’s the one who got Cap Bradley tossed off the force. I know her. What’s she to you?’

‘I don’t know, but I have an idea she’s at the bottom of most of my troubles.’

‘She’s in solid with Doonan’s flock of buttons. If you’re in wrong with her, you’d better watch out. Lassiter’s on her payroll.’

‘Is that a fact? How do you know?’

‘A barman hears things. Lassiter may only be a sergeant, but he’s got plenty of influence. Money talks in this town and he’s got it. You should see the Packard he runs, and his house.’

‘Think he gets it from her?’

‘That’s what I hear. It’s my bet he’ll be Lieutenant next year, and Captain the year after.’

‘Why?’

He showed his teeth in a mirthless smile. ‘She wouldn’t give anything away for nothing. He’s worked for it all right.’

‘Bradley thinks she murdered her husband. What do you think?’

‘I wouldn’t know, but I do know two days after he was shot, Lassiter bought himself the Packard.’

‘They say Ted Dillon did the shooting. Did you ever run into Dillon?’

‘Are you digging into this murder?’ Benn asked, lowering himself on the arm of a chair.

‘It may be hooked up to another killing I’m investigating. Did you ever run into Dillon?’

‘He and I served in the same battalion during the war. He was my side-kick. He didn’t kill Van Blake.’

‘What happened to him?’

Benn shrugged his shoulders.

‘He was taken care of. When you plan to kill a guy with as much dough and influence as Van Blake, it’s a good idea to have a fall guy. That’s what Ted was.’