Ed McBain - Doll

‘That’s right,’ Meyer said.

‘Anyway, the guy was a mainliner, hit marks all over his arms. The Grady girl looked like sweet young meat, it was tough to figure what she was doing with a creep like him. She claimed she didn’t know he was an addict, claimed he’d invited her up to the apartment, got her drunk, and then forced a shot on her. There were no previous marks on her body, just that one hit mark in the crook of her el—’

‘Wait a minute,’ Meyer said.

‘Yeah, what’s the matter?’

‘The girl claimed he’d forced the shot on her?’

‘That’s right. Said he got her drunk.’

‘It wasn’t the man who alibied her?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Did the man claim he was a pusher and that he’d forced a fix on the girl?’

Kreisler began laughing again. ‘Just catch a junkie who’s willing to take a fall as a pusher. Are you kidding?’

‘The girl told her doctor that the man alibied her.’

‘Absolute he,’ Kreisler said. ‘She was the one who did all the talking, convinced the judge she was innocent, got off with a suspended sentence.’

‘And the man?’

‘Convicted, served his time at Soledad, minimum of two, maximum of ten.’

‘Then that’s why she kept sending him money. Not because she was indebted to him, but only because she felt guilty as hell.’

‘She deserved a break,’ Kreisler said. ‘What the hell, she was a nineteen-year-old kid. How do you know? Maybe he did force a blast on her.’

‘I doubt it. She’d been sniffing the stuff regularly and using pot since she was seventeen.’

‘Yeah, well, we didn’t know that.’

‘What was the man’s name?’ Meyer asked.

‘Fritz Schmidt.’

‘Fritz? Is that a nickname?’

‘No, that’s his square handle. Fritz Schmidt.’

‘What’s the last you’ve got on him?’

‘He was paroled in four. Parole Office gave him a clean bill of health, haven’t had any trouble from him since.’

‘Do you know if he’s still in California?’

‘Couldn’t tell you.’

‘Okay, thanks a lot,’ Meyer said.

‘Don’t mention it,’ Kreisler said, and hung up.

There were no listings for Fritz Schmidt in any of the city’s telephone directories. But according to Dr Levi’s casebook, Tinka’s ‘friend from California’ had only arrived here in September. Hardly expecting any positive results, Meyer dialed the Information operator, identified himself as a working detective, and asked if she had anything for a Mr Fritz Schmidt in her new listings.

Two minutes later, Meyer and Kling clipped on their holsters and left the squadroom.

The girl came back into the room at nine-twenty-five. She was fully clothed. The Llama was in her right hand. She closed the door gently behind her, but did not bother to switch on the overhead light. She watched Carella silently for several moments, the neon blinking around the edges of the drawn shade across the room. Then she said, ‘You’re shivering, baby.’

Carella did not answer.

‘How tall are you?’ she asked.

‘Six-two.’

‘We’ll get some clothes to fit you.’

‘Why the sudden concern?’ Carella asked. He was sweating profusely, and shivering at the same time, wanting to tear his hands free of the cuffs, wanting to kick out with his lashed feet, helpless to do either, feeling desperately ill and knowing the only thing that would cure him.

‘No concern at all, baby,’ she said. ‘We’re dressing you because we’ve got to take you away from here.’

‘Where are you taking me?’

‘Away.’

‘Where?’

‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘We’ll give you a nice big fix first.’

He felt suddenly exhilarated. He tried to keep the joy from showing on his face, tried not to smile, hoping against hope that she wasn’t just teasing him again. He lay shivering on the floor, and the girl laughed and said, ‘My, it’s rough when a little jolt is overdue, isn’t it?’

Carella said nothing.

‘Do you know what an overdose of heroin is?’ she asked suddenly.

The shivering stopped for just a moment, and then began again more violently. Her words seemed to echo in the room, do you know what an overdose of heroin is, overdose, heroin, do you, do you?

‘Do you?’ the girl persisted.

‘Yes.’

‘It won’t hurt you,’ she said. ‘It’ll kill you, but it won’t hurt you.’ She laughed again. ‘Think of it, baby. How many addicts would you say there are in this city? Twenty thousand, twenty-one thousand, what’s your guess?’

‘I don’t know,’ Carella said.

‘Let’s make it twenty thousand, okay? I like round numbers. Twenty thousand junkies out there, all hustling around and wondering where their next shot is coming from, and here we are about to give you a fix that’d take care of seven or eight of them for a week. How about that? That’s real generosity, baby.’

‘Thanks,’ Carella said. ‘What do you think,’ he started, and stopped because his teeth were chattering. He waited. He took a deep breath and tried again. ‘What do you think you’ll… you’ll accomplish by killing me?’

‘Silence,’ the girl said.

‘How?’

‘You’re the only one in the world who knows who we are or where we are. Once you’re dead, silence.’

‘No.’

‘Ah, yes, baby.’

‘I’m telling you no. They’ll find you.’

‘Uh-uh.’

‘Yes.’

‘How?’

‘The same way I did.’

‘Uh-uh. Impossible.’

‘If I uncovered your mistake—’

‘There was no mistake, baby.’ The girl paused. ‘There was only a little girl playing with her doll.’

The room was silent.

‘We’ve got the doll, honey. We found it in your car, remember? It’s a very nice doll. Very expensive, I’ll bet.’

‘It’s a present for my daughter,’ Carella said, i told you—’

‘You weren’t going to give your daughter a used doll for a present, were you? No, honey.’ The girl smiled. ‘I happened to look under the doll’s dress a few minutes ago. Baby, it’s all over for you, believe me.’ She turned and opened the door. ‘Fritz,’ she yelled to the other room, ‘come in here and give me a hand.’

The mailbox downstairs told them Fritz Schmidt was in apartment 34. They took the steps up two at a time, drawing their revolvers when they were on the third floor, and then scanning the numerals on each door as they moved down the corridor. Meyer put his ear to the door at the end of the hall. He could hear nothing. He moved away from the door, and then nodded to Kling. Kling stepped back several feet, bracing himself, his legs widespread. There was no wall opposite the end door, nothing to use as a launching support for a flat-footed kick at the latch. Meyer used Kling’s body as the support he needed, raising his knee high as Kling shoved him out and forward. Meyer’s foot connected. The lock sprang and the door swung wide. He followed it into the apartment, gun in hand, Kling not three feet behind him. They fanned out the moment they were inside the room. Kling to the right, Meyer to the left.

A man came running out of the room to the right of the large living room. He was a tall man with straight blond hair and huge shoulders. He looked at the detectives and then thrust one hand inside his jacket and down toward his belt. Neither Meyer nor Kling waited to find out what he was reaching for. They opened fire simultaneously. The bullets caught the man in his enormous chest and flung him back against the wall, which he clung to for just a moment before falling headlong to the floor. A second person appeared in the doorway. The second person was a girl, and she was very big, and she held a pistol in her right hand. A look of panic was riding her face, but it was curiously coupled with a fixed smile, as though she’d been expecting them all along and was ready for them, was in fact welcoming their arrival.