Роберт Беллем - Pulp Frictions

‘You mean maybe she really killed herself and he walked in and picked up the roscoe where she’d dropped it?’

I said: ‘Don’t be dense, Dave. You didn’t see any powder-burns on Kitty Calvert, did you?’

‘No. Come to think of it, I didn’t.’

‘Well, then, she didn’t shoot herself.’

Donaldson said: ‘Well, hell! It was Sanston that killed her. Now he’s bumped himself off because he realised he was caught red-handed.’

I said: ‘Not so fast. You heard Sanston say something about his wife? He didn’t want to be arrested, because his wife would divorce him and the scandal would make him lose his movie job?’

Dave narrowed his eyes. ‘By God! You think it was Sanston’s wife—?’

I pointed towards the side of Kitty Calvert’s house. I said: ‘Take a look. There’s a ladder up against the house. It’s right up against Kitty’s boudoir window.’

Donaldson said: ‘I get it! Mrs Sanston followed her hubby here, saw him with Kitty Calvert, and shot Kitty. But she didn’t have a chance to shoot her husband too, because he was out of the room a minute, and when he came back we busted in. So she laid for him out here by his car. Huh?’

‘At least that’s a theory,’ I said. ‘It matches with the ladder against the window.’

Dave said: ‘Then we’ve got to get Mrs Sanston, by God! Maybe she’s still around here somewhere. Come on — let’s start searching!’

Even as he spoke, I heard the sound of a motor roaring from somewhere around the next corner. I said: ‘If it was Mrs Sanston, she’s making her getaway right now. She’ll probably go home to establish an alibi for herself.’

‘Alibi, hell!’ Dave Donaldson roared. ‘I’ll catch her! I’ll put the collar on her and sweat the truth out of her!’

I said: ‘Go ahead. Use my jalopy. I’ll go back in the house and phone headquarters to come and take the two corpses away.’

So Dave got into my coupe and got going.

I went back into the house. I picked up the phone, notified headquarters what had happened. When I hung up, I thought I heard somebody tiptoeing in the back of the place. Funny thing about people trying to sneak around without making any noise. You’ll notice it quicker than you’ll notice ordinary footsteps.

I made a flying dive for the dining-room where I’d heard the sound. Then I saw the Chink maid. She was trying to get out through a French window.

I jumped for her, grabbed her. She was trying to stuff something down the neck of her dress. I got my fingers into the vee of her uniform and yanked. The material tore. I ripped at the bosom of her dress until something fluttered to the floor. I grabbed it. It was an oblong of yellow paper.

The Chink girl tried to grab it from me. I slapped her across the face, pinioned her slim wrists with one hand. Then I looked at the slip of yellow paper. It was a cheque. It was made out to Miss Violet Chang, and it was signed: ‘Rodney Arkle.’ That had been Skinny Arkle’s real name. The cheque was for five hundred smacks.

I said: ‘Where the hell did you get this?’

‘Mr Arkle g-gave it to me two or three d-days ago,’ she whimpered. She looked scared as hell.

I said: ‘What for?’

She closed up like a clam. Her red lips got tight. I knew I’d have to pull the caveman stuff on her to find out anything. So I grabbed her shoulders, shook her until her teeth rattled.

I said: ‘Now look, Miss Violet Chang. If you don’t want to get mauled groggy, you’ll talk. How would you like a good punch in the jaw?’

‘No... no—! Don’t hit me!’

‘Okay, then. Answer me. Why were you trying to sneak out that window?’

She said: ‘Be-because I’m afraid! I don’t want to get mixed up in this case.’

I ran my fingers over her shoulder, pretended I was about to pinch hell out of her. I’ll admit I got something of a kick out of touching her. But I didn’t let on. I said: ‘Why are you afraid to get mixed up in the case?’

All of a sudden the slant-eyed cutie pressed herself up against me, put her arms around my neck. She said: ‘Please, Mr Detective — I’ll do anything you ask if you’ll keep me out of this! I... I have a brother who was smuggled into this country illegally. If I’m dragged into this shooting, the police will question me, look into my family. They might find out about my brother and deport him—’

She fitted against me like tissue paper. Warm, soft curves were touching my chest, and she was offering me her lips—

Well, after all, I’m human. So I leaned down and kissed her... felt her lips part against my mouth. My blood was racing, way out of control...

It was some time later when I said: ‘Okay, baby. Now that you know I’m your friend, maybe you’ll answer a couple of questions, huh?’

‘Such as what?’ she asked me.

I said: ‘Well, for one thing, how long had Billy Sanston been intimate with your mistress, Kitty Calvert? How long had he been coming to visit her?’

‘A... a long time. Almost a year. N-now let me go, please—!’

‘Not yet. Tell me something else. Did Kitty know Billy’s wife?’

‘Y-yes. Just slightly. They weren’t good friends. Sometimes I got the impression that Mrs Sanston suspected her husband of being in love with Miss Calvert. Of course I wasn’t sure. Now please let me get away — before the police come!’

Outside, in the distance, I heard sirens moaning. I said: ‘Sure, kiddo. Put on a coat to cover yourself. Then scram out the window.’

She got a coat and I held it for her. I fumbled the job, killing time. Then finally I helped her out through the French window in the dining-room, just as the headquarters men rang the front door-bell.

I raced for the hall, yelled through the broken glass in the door. I said: ‘Quick — around the side! A Chink dame on the lam! Grab her!’ Those coppers moved fast. I heard them running round the side of the house. That was what I wanted.

For a minute I was alone. I set fire to a gasper and went upstairs. I didn’t know what I was going to look for, but I figured maybe I might find something. I had three murders on my mind: Skinny Arkle’s, his wife’s, and Billy Sanston’s. I was convinced they were all murders; and I had a hunch they were linked together some way or other.

First I squinted around the boudoir where Kitty Calvert’s corpse was. Then I walked into the next bedroom. It had been Skinny Arkle’s room. I saw a desk-drawer open.

I saw an old book of faded press-clippings from the days when Skinny had been a big-shot comedian. There were pictures of him in costume and in everyday dress. There was even a picture of Skinny as a kid with his family, back in Jugoslavia. It showed his mother, father, grandparents, a brother exactly the same age, two older sisters, and a couple of uncles and aunts. But I didn’t take the scrap-book. It was too big, too bulky.

Then I found an empty book of cheque-stubs. I looked at the last three stubs. One showed that cheque for five yards drawn to the Chink maid, Violet Chang. The second said: ‘Pasadena Hospital, $250.00, in full.’ The third was to cash — for fifty grand!

Before I could look around any further, I heard a hell of a rumpus down below. The headquarters men had put the nab on the Chinese girl. I didn’t want them to catch me going through Skinny Arkle’s things, so I went downstairs on the run. I said: ‘You guys better take that girl to the jug. I think she knows something. And how about lending me a car for a while? Dave Donaldson took my hack.’

One of the dicks said: ‘All right. Use the red roadster, Mr Turner. Run it back to headquarters when you get through with it.’

I went out, got into the red roadster. I drove back to my apartment. Just as I parked outside my building, I saw somebody in the entrance. Somebody in a suit that looked familiar.