James Chase - This Way for a Shroud

“Well, that’s a relief,” Van said, lighting a cigarette. “How do we start? What’s the first move?”

“Nothing very exciting, I’m afraid,” Conrad returned. “Our first job is to make a review of the work we have in hand and see what can be shelved and what has got to be done. The D.A. said Maurer comes first, but we can’t just sling the other work into the trash-basket. Suppose we see what we’ve got? If we put our backs into it, we should be able to have a clear run by tomorrow morning. Madge, will you make a list of the important items and then we’ll get down to it?”

Madge nodded and went briskly over to the filing cabinets. While she was getting out the more urgent files, Van went over to his desk and hurriedly inspected the files that lay in his pending tray.

“What’s our first move against Maurer, Paul?” he asked as he flicked through the files.

“Before we can hope to hook him up with June Arnot, we must prove they knew each other,” Conrad said. “We’ll have to work from June’s end. It might be an idea if you went down to Dead End tomorrow and checked every house and everyone you meet on the way. Make out you’re checking on Jordan. Try and get a description of anyone who went to see June regularly. With any luck we might get a description of Maurer along with the rest of them. Whatever you do, don’t mention Maurer’s name. We’ll tip our hand if we ask direct questions about him, and that’s the last thing we want to do.”

Madge came over with a pile of files.

“There’s more than I thought,” she said, putting them on Conrad’s desk, “but some of them aren’t immediately urgent.”

“Let’s get at it,” Conrad said, slipping out of his coat. “Come on, Van, let’s see how hard you can work.”

It wasn’t until nine-fifteen that night that the more urgent work had been cleared, and Conrad felt satisfied that he had at least four days ahead of him free to concentrate on Maurer.

With a soft whistle of relief, he pushed back his chair.

“I guess that’s it,” he said. That’s the last one, isn’t it?”

Madge nodded. She took the file from Conrad, placed it on the top of the others and carried them over to the safe.

Van Roche got up from behind his desk and stretched.

“I don’t want another day like this,” he said feelingly. “Comrade Maurer would be flattered if he knew we’d worked this hard just for a chance of throwing a spanner in his works.”

Conrad glanced at his watch.

“Well, I’m going home. See you two here at nine tomorrow. We’ll get the plan working and see what we can do.” He picked up his hat and stood up. “Be seeing you, and get some sleep; you may need it.”

It wasn’t until he got into his car and started the engine that his mind turned to Janey. He had ruthlessly refused to let himself think of her during working hours, but now he turned his attention to her.

Why had she gone to the Paradise Club of all places? he thought angrily as he sent the car shooting along the deserted street. She knew Maurer owned the club, and she knew how Conrad felt about Maurer. Had she gone there deliberately to annoy him? And who had been the kind friend who had told Forest? Conrad wondered, his face hardening. “She wasn’t exactly sober.” That was a pretty nice thing to hear about your wife, and from your boss, too. “Have a word with her,” Forest had said. “She’ll listen to reason.” He certainly didn’t think Janey justified that observation. Listening to reason wasn’t Janey’s strong point, and Conrad wasn’t kidding himself he could persuade her to do something she didn’t want to do.

When he opened the sitting-room door, he found Janey in an armchair flicking through a magazine. Her face was cold and sullen, and he saw at once how tense she was.

Although he was a light sleeper, he hadn’t heard her come in the previous night, and when he got up in the morning, she hadn’t moved, although he was sure she had been awake.

He decided to come to the point right away. There was bound to be a row: that was inevitable.

He came over to the empty fireplace, and sat down in an armchair opposite to where Janey was sitting. “Janey…”

“Well, what is it?” she said in her cold, flat voice. She didn’t look up.

“You were seen at the Paradise Club last night.”

He saw her stiffen and a sudden wary expression cross her face. She recovered immediately and looked up, her eyes plainly hostile.

“So what? You were lucky I didn’t go to the Ambassadors. The Paradise is a lot cheaper.”

“That’s not the point. You know as well as I do that Maurer owns the Paradise Club. What were you thinking of, Janey?”

“Now look here, Paul, I’ve put up with a lot from you, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let you lecture me!” Janey said with violence. “You’re a nice one to preach! You come home at any hour and you sneak out at any hour. I don’t complain. Don’t imagine I don’t know what goes on in your office. That Fielding woman may be nothing to look at, but anyone can see she’s a sexy little bitch, and with a face like hers I suppose she lets you do what you like to her!”

“Now look, Janey,” Conrad said sharply, “we’re not going to have that old red herring brought up again. I fell for it the first time, but not again. You’re trying to side-step the issue. Why did you go to the Paradise Club?”

“That’s my business!” Janey flared. “And I’m not going to be cross-examined by you!”

“But you can’t go there!” Conrad said, his voice suddenly angry. “You know as well as I do it’s Maurer’s headquarters. You’re making the department a laughing-stock by going there. Can’t you see that?”

Janey giggled, but immediately her face hardened again as she pointed her chin at him.

“Do you think I care a damn about your stupid department? If I want to go to the club, I’ll go!”

“It was Forest who told me you have been there. Some kind person told him, and added you were drunk. How long do you imagine I’ll keep my job if you’re going to behave like that?”

Janey suddenly went white, and her eyes flashed.

“So your dirty little police force has started to spy on me, has it?” she cried. “I might have expected that. Well, you can tell your smug, blue-nosed boss from me to mind his own business! Neither he nor you nor anyone else is going to tell me what to do! And if you don’t like it you can go to hell!”

She turned and went out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

As the City Hall clock was striking nine, Conrad walked briskly along the corridor to his office. He pushed open the door and entered, hanging his hat on the hat-stand without pausing on his way to his desk.

Madge and Van Roche were already at their desks. Madge was typing busily. Van was scribbling notes on a pad, a cigarette in his mouth, his eyes screwed up to avoid the smoke as it spiralled past his face.

“You’ve got a visitor, Paul,” he said, pushing the pad aside. He jerked his thumb to the door to the little ante-room that was used for interviews. “And you’ll never guess who.”

Conrad put his brief-case on the desk and reached for a cigarette from the box that stood by the telephone.

“I don’t want to see any visitors this morning. Who is it?”

“Flo Presser.”

Conrad looked up sharply, his eyebrows climbing.

“You kidding?”

Van grinned.

“Go ahead and see for yourself. Come to that you’ve only to take a sniff at the keyhole to have the fact confirmed. I reckon she must have had a bath of Last Night’s Kiss or whatever the stuff’s called. She fairly hums with it.”

“Flo Presser? At this hour? What does she want?”