James Chase: Safer Dead

‘If I don’t find him, brother,’ I said, pushing past him, ‘you’ll be seeing me again.’

I went down the stairs to the street.

III

It was a little after one o’clock by the time I got back to the Shad Hotel. I found Bernie sitting in the lobby, hollow eyed and pale, glass of whisky and water within reach.

‘Still tippling? I should have thought you had had enough last night to last you a lifetime.’

Bernie closed his eyes, then opened them and shuddered.

‘Would you mind keeping your voice down?’ he said pathetically. ‘The least noise sends stabbing pains through my head.’

‘Serves you right. Come on; let’s eat. I’ve got news for you.’

Bernie recoiled.

‘Don’t talk to me about food. I couldn’t touch a thing.’

I grabbed him by the arm and hustled him into the dingy restaurant.

‘Then you can watch me,’ I said.

While I ate, I gave him a detailed account of what I had discovered the previous evening and of my work during the morning. He became so interested, he even forgot his headache.

‘We’re doing all right,’ I said. ‘We already know more than the police did when they dropped the case, and that’s not bad going. We know Fay was in touch with this guy in the camel hair coat. The police didn’t manage to turn him up or if they did, they didn’t think he was of sufficient interest to mention him. I think he’s worth investigating. Anyone who wears dark glasses at night is my idea of a suspect. And another thing: who is this girl Joan Nichols? Where does she fit in? She called here three days after Fay had disappeared and asked for her. Then she promptly falls downstairs and breaks her neck. Farmer is the only guy who could have seen Fay leave the club and he gets himself conveniently run over. Looks to me that Joan Nichols and Farmer were got rid of because they knew too much.’

Bernie’s eyes popped.

‘Hey! Has it occurred to your master mind we also know something?’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘Suppose someone starts trying to knock us off?’

‘Don’t drivel. Investigators never get knocked off. Don’t you read thrillers?’

‘I don’t like it. Maybe we’d better drop this case, Chet. I’m serious. I wouldn’t like anything to happen to you - nor to me, come to that.’

‘Skip it!’ I said. ‘This is going to be our best story. I’m going after Hesson. I want you to find this guy in the camel hair coat. The chances are he’s already left town, but it’s worthwhile calling on all the hotels here and seeing if anyone recognizes his description. His car might help you.’

Bernie nodded reluctantly.

‘Well, okay. I’ll do what I can. There can’t be many hotels in town - I hope!’

I pushed back my chair.

‘Well, come on. I’ll need the car. I should be back from Frisco tonight. See you here.’

Bernie got to his feet and we went into the lobby.

‘Hang on a moment,’ I said and stepped into the telephone booth. I called the Florian club and asked to be put through to the stage door office.

‘Is Spencer there?’ I asked.

‘This is Spencer talking. Is that Mr. Sladen?’

‘Yeah. Do you know if Miss Benson owned a charm bracelet? You know what that is, don’t you?’

‘Sure, Mr. Sladen. She did have one. It had a lot of charms on it. She showed it to me.’

‘Was there a gold apple among the charms?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Fine, and thanks,’ I said and hung up. I left the booth and joined Bernie. ‘I was right. The charm came off her bracelet, Spencer saw it. Hesson will have a job to explain how it got into his room.’

‘We’re not bad for amateurs, are we?’ Bernie said.

‘If we were amateurs we’d be good. See you tonight.’

It was four o’clock and growing dusk when I drove over the Oakland Bay bridge and stopped on Harrison Street to inquire the way to Lennox Street.

The cop told me to make for India Basin.

I left the Buick in a vacant plot and walked down the dirty street, at the end of which was Lennox Street. Tenement houses, faced with iron escapes, stood starkly against the darkening sky. Here and there lights showed in upper windows.

I paused outside No. 3. It was a narrow high building with a bunch of dirty, ragged kids sitting on the bottom step. They stared fixedly at me, nudging one another.

I said, ‘Sam Hardy live here?’

‘Yes, but he’s out,’ one of the boys said. He shifted a little to let me pass, and as I walked up the dirty, worn steps, the kids turned to stare after me. The front door was ajar and I pushed it open and entered a bare, dirty hall.

A thin negro was sitting on an upturned box with his back against the wall, reading a racing sheet. He looked up and stared at me, his eyes tired and bored.

‘Where do I find Jake Hesson?’ I asked and showed him a dollar bill.

His eyes lit up.

‘Third floor, boss. Room 10.’ He reached for the bill and I let him have it.

‘Is he in?’

‘Sure, boss. He hasn’t been out all day.’

I nodded and began to climb the stairs. I kept on until I reached the third floor. A radio was blaring from behind one of the doors. I went quickly along the passage to room 10, paused to listen with my ear against the panel, then hearing nothing, I rapped.

No one told me to go in.

I turned the door handle and gently pushed. The door swung inwards.

Jake Hesson lay across the bed. His dirty white shirt had a crimson patch just below where his heart was. Growing out of the patch was the handle of a knife. From the look of his waxen, yellowish face, he had been dead some hours.

CHAPTER THREE

I

Lieutenant Marshall of the Homicide Squad, a big, red-faced man with a neat moustache and a jutting, aggressive chin, stuck a cigarette on his lower lip and set fire to it. He looked across at me as I leaned against the wall, keeping out of the way of the fingerprint men as they worked in the small room. All that now remained of Jake Hesson was a splash of blood on the dirty bed cover.

‘Tom Creed will want to take care of this,’ Marshall said. ‘If what you say is right, it starts from his end.’

‘Who’s he?’ I asked.

‘Captain of police, Welden. Last year he asked us to check the Swallow Club where this girl Benson was supposed to have worked, but we didn’t turn up anything.’ Marshall gave me a hard smile. ‘Looks like you’ve managed to make a monkey out of me this time.’

I had worked with him in the past and I had a certain respect for his intelligence and capabilities.

‘I should have said your father was more responsible for that than I am,’ I said gravely.

Marshall laughed. He turned to Sergeant Hamilton, his second in charge.

‘I’ll leave you to it, Dick. Me and the bright boy will go and talk to Creed. Drive over when you’re through. You can take me back.’

Hamilton nodded.

‘Okay, Lieutenant.’

‘Come on,’ Marshall said, taking my arm. ‘You can run me to Welden. Creed will be interested to hear your story. He was worked up about the girl’s disappearance, but as he didn’t find a body, he had to drop the case.’

‘Let me have a photograph of the remains,’ I said to Hamilton. ‘I’m staying at the Shad Hotel.’

Hamilton looked at Marshall for confirmation.

‘Let him have it,’ Marshall said. ‘I’m in the picture too. It’ll be good publicity.’

‘Don’t rely on it,’ I said. ‘Fayette may block you out. We have to be careful how much horror we print.’

‘Come on - you!’ Marshall said, and we went down the stairs together.

On the way to Welden, I went over my story again so Marshall could be sure he hadn’t missed a point.

‘Well, we seem to have a few new leads to work on now,’ he said when I was through. ‘I always thought there was something phoney the way Farmer died. Where does this Nichols girl fit in?’