James Chase - This Way for a Shroud

“I guess so,” Forest said, shrugging. He looked over at Conrad. “You’d better ask Miss Coleman if she wants to see Mr. Gollowitz. We’ll wait.”

Conrad nodded and went out of the office. He was sure Frances would want to see Gollowitz, and he stood for a moment thinking. He could warn her, but was she in the mood to listen to warnings? Did she realize the danger she was in? Once Gollowitz got her away from the D.A.’s office, she would disappear. He was sure of that.

He returned to his office.

“Get me six photographs of any of our customers,” he said to Van Roche, “and include in the six a picture of Maurer.”

Van Roche went to the files, and after a minute or so handed Conrad six halfplate prints.

“I want you to come up with me,” Conrad said. “When I give you the tip, bring Weiner into Miss Coleman’s room. Okay?”

Van Roche looked startled.

“What’s the idea?”

“You’ll see. We haven’t much time. Come on, let’s get upstairs.”

They rode up in the elevator to the tenth floor.

“Stick with Weiner until I send for you,” Conrad said, and walked quickly down the passage to Frances’s door.

Jackson and Norris, still at their posts outside the door, gave him bored nods as he rapped. The door was opened by Madge. There was an exasperated expression on her face.

“Is she being difficult?” Conrad asked, keeping his voice down.

“I’ll say she is.”

Conrad nodded and walked into the inner room. He was aware of a feeling of suppressed excitement to see Frances again, even after only a few hours.

She was looking out of the window. The nurse got to her feet and went out silently when she saw Conrad.

“I hope you’re feeling better now, Miss Coleman,” Conrad said.

She turned quickly. Her eyes were angry and she came across the room to face Conrad.

“I want to go home!” she said fiercely. “You have no right to keep me here!”

“I know,” Conrad said mildly. He thought how animated she looked in her anger. Not like Janey’s anger. There was nothing spiteful about this girl, “And I’m sorry about it, Miss Coleman. We don’t think it’s safe for you to leave just yet.”

“I’m the judge of that!”

“Are you?” He smiled at her, hoping to win a smile from her, but she remained straight-faced and angry, staring at him. “Look, sit down, won’t you? If after what I’m going to tell you you still want to go home, then I’ll have to let you go. I can’t hold you here against your will.”

Her anger began to fade, but her eyes were suspicious.

“I don’t want to listen. I just want to go right now.”

“I wish you would try to be reasonable. We’re only thinking of your own safety. Why do you imagine that gunman tried to kill you? Have you thought of that?”

He saw uncertainty chase suspicion out of her eyes.

“He — he must have been mad.”

“Do you really think so?” Conrad sat down. “Sit down for a moment. I won’t keep you long.”

She hesitated, then sat down, her fists tight clenched on her knees.

“You’re still quite sure you didn’t see anyone when you were at Miss Arnot’s place?” Conrad asked, taking the six photographs from his pocket.

He saw her face tighten.

“I’ve already said I didn’t see anyone. If you’re going to start all that over again…”

“Please be patient with me. Would you look at these photographs and tell me if you recognize any of the faces?”

He handed her the photographs and she took them reluctantly. She shuffled through them, and when she came to Maurer’s photograph he saw her stiffen. She dropped the photographs as if they had become red hot and jumped to her feet.

“I’m not going to have any more of this!” she cried, her face pale."I insist on going home!”

Conrad bent down and picked up the photographs. He didn’t let her see his excitement. He was sure now she had seen Maurer at Dead End. Why else should she have reacted like this?

He held Maurer’s photograph out to her.

“Do you know who this is?”

She didn’t look at the photograph.

“I don’t know any of them.”

“Have you ever heard of Jack Maurer?”

“Of course; he’s a racketeer,” Frances said, turning away. “I’m not interested in him, and I’m not interested in any of the others.”

“I want to tell you about Maurer,” Conrad said, studying the photograph. “He’s quite a character. I’d say he was the most powerful man in the State right now. When he was fifteen he became a bodyguard to Jake Moritti. Before he was sixteen he had been arrested three times for homicide, but each time he made sure no witness lived to give evidence against him. When Moritti ceased to be a power, Maurer joined Zetti. Over a period of ten years he was responsible for thirty murders; mainly gang slavings. When Zetti went to jail, Maurer teamed up with Big Joe Bernstien. A little later he became one of the head men of the Crime Syndicate. You’ve heard about the Syndicate, haven’t you? Their organization spreads over the whole of the country. It is divided into territories and Maurer got California. He has been the racket boss of California now for ten years, and it is remarkable what he has done in that time. He has taken over all the main labour groups. Every member of these unions pays him dues for which he gives them nothing in return, and they’re too blind and stupid to realize it. He has taken over the Shylocking business. Do you know what that is? It’s one of the greatest profit-making rackets in the country. For every five dollars borrowed, the borrower has to pay back six dollars, and the period is for one week. It works out at 120 per cent in forty-two days. If the borrower fails to pay up on time, two of

Mauler’s men call on him, and they give him a schlammin. If you don’t know what that is, I’ll tell you. A schlammin is a beating, given with a lead pipe wrapped in newspaper. If the borrower still can’t pay after a schlammin, then the debt’s written off and the borrower gets a bullet in the back.”

Conrad paused to look at Frances, but she had turned her back on him and was looking out of the window.

“Maurer has also taken over the wire service,” he went on, “without which no bookmaker dare operate, and for the privilege of using this service every bookmaker in the State has to kick in with a weekly payment or else. He has now control of the gambling concessions in the district, and that alone brings him in fifty-five thousand dollars a month.”

Frances turned suddenly.

“Why are you telling me all this? I’m not interested, and I don’t want to hear any more!”

“Since Maurer’s reign began here, there have been over three hundred murders,” Conrad continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “We have had only ten convictions, and in each case the convicted men were known to be working for Maurer. Maurer himself is known to have murdered thirty-three people, but that was before he became the boss. Now he gives orders from a safe distance. We have never been able to slap a murder charge on him. But on the 9th of this month he slipped up. For the first time in fifteen years he killed with his own hands. It was he who killed June Arnot who was his mistress and who was cheating him. We have no proof as yet that he did kill her, but we have very strong circumstantial evidence that he did do it. We have only to place him on the scene of the murder and at the time of the murder to convict him and rid California of the most dangerous, murderous, powerful gangster of this or any other century.” He leaned forward and pointed at her. “I believe you saw him leave or arrive at Dead End. With your evidence I can successfuly prosecute him. It’s your duty, Miss Coleman, to give evidence against him, and I’m asking you to do it!”