1945 - Blonde's Requiem (33 page)

“
You didn
’
t see anyone, I suppose?
”
Audrey asked.

I shook my head.
“
Did Ted say where he was going tonight? If he
’
s the killer, then it was he who was waiting for me with the rope.
”

“
He told me he was spending the evening at the Ciro Club. Shall we check up?
”

“
You bet we
’
ll checkup,
”
I returned.
“
Let
’
s get to a drugstore where we can phone and then we
’
ll go on to the cemetery. You know, I
’
ve a feeling this case is coming to an end.
”

“
You really think Ted
’
s the killer?
”
Audrey asked, engaging gears and driving slowly down the dimly lit street.

“
It looks like it. The photographs should be enough evidence to fry him if the case is handled right. Then this attempt to knock me off points to him again. If we can find the bodies, we ought to have a cast-iron case against him.
”

A few minutes
’
driving brought us to a drugstore. I told Reg to call the Ciro Club and find out if Ted was there.

While we waited in the car, I said to Audrey:
“
When this business is over, have you thought what you
’
re going to do?
”

She looked away.
“
Not really,
”
she said.
“
I don
’
t think I
’
ll be a detective anymore. I don
’
t seem to be good at it.
”

I put my hand over hers.
“
With me,
”
I said,
“
you could be very good. Why don
’
t you and me become partners?
”

“
I might consider it,
”
she said cautiously.
“
But you
’
re awfully domineering.
”

“
Not if I were your husband,
”
I said airily.
“
You
’
d be surprised how nice I could be. Didn
’
t you know I am one of the world
’
s great lovers?
”

“
I had an idea you thought you were,
”
she said, with a little giggle.
“
Although you
’
re the only one who does think so.
”

I put my arm around her and pulled her to me.
“
Come on, honey,
”
I said.
“
You know you can
’
t get on without me—say yes.
”

Reg stuck his head through the window.
“
For God
’
s sake!
”
he exploded.
“
Can
’
t you two keep your minds on business? The moment I leave you, you start canoodling.
”

“
One of these days someone
’
s going to take a dislike to you,
”
I said fiercely, hastily taking my arm away.
“
I didn
’
t think you
’
d be so quick.
”

He opened the car door and scrambled in.
“
I made a rush job of it,
”
he said with a leer.
“
Why should you be the only one to have fun and games?
”

“
Well, come on, you lug,
”
I said.
“
Is he still there?
”

“
No, and what
’
s more, he hasn
’
t been there all evening. What do you make of that?
”

Audrey and I exchanged glances.

“
Okay,
”
I said.
“
It looks like we
’
re on the right track. Let
’
s go—Cranville cemetery first stop.
”

We came upon the burial-ground as a distant clock struck twelve. Overhead, torn, black clouds obscured the moon and distant thunder rumbled ominously.

“
We only want Bella Lugosi with us and it
’
d be a picnic,
”
Reg said, his teeth beginning to chatter.

“
Shut up,
”
I said, peering out of the car window.
“
That
’
s no way to talk so near the dead. Where
’
s your respect?
”

Audrey pressed her foot down on the brake pedal and the car stopped.
“
What now?
”
she said, looking a little fearfully at the tall gloomy walls surrounding the burial-ground.

I opened the car door and stepped out. The air was still and oppressive. I could smell rain and, far to the east, I could see faint flashes of lightning.

“
Before very long,
”
I said, glancing up and down the deserted road,
“
we
’
re going to have a storm.
”

“
Never mind about the storm,
”
Reg said, climbing out of the car and standing beside me.
“
It
’
s this joint that worries me!
”

“
Forget it,
”
I said sharply, feeling spooked myself.
“
What
’
s a graveyard between friends?
”

Before he could think up a suitable reply I walked over to the massive iron gates and pushed. They swung open with a harsh squeak that made my nerves tingle.

“
Okay,
”
I called to Audrey.
“
Can you drive in?
”

The car edged its way through the gateway and stopped in the middle of the centre lane of the graveyard.

I closed the iron gates and told Audrey to put out the car lights.

The heavy scent of graveyard flowers hung in the air. Underfoot, cinders crunched and sounded to me like firecrackers. A faint mist rose from the graveyard. In the shadows of tombstones and willow trees it was like smoke.

Audrey and Reg stood close to me. They didn
’
t like this place any more than I did.

What the hell have you brought us here for?
”
Reg whispered, looking furtively to right and left.
“
What are we going to do?
”

“
We
’
re going to look at the register,
”
I said, pointing to the attendant
’
s white lodge that stood back from the gates.
“
I want to see who
’
s been buried lately.
”

“
What a guy for ideas!
”
Reg sighed.
“
Couldn
’
t you have done that during the day? Why pick on midnight?
”

“
Use your head,
”
I said shortly.
“
If I had done that I
’
d have told the killer the game was up.
”

Audrey stared at me.
“
You really think you
’
re going to find something?
”
she asked.

“
Unless I
’
ve got it all wrong,
”
I returned,
“
I
’
m going to find the missing girls tonight.
”

Reg drew a deep breath.
“
I
’
m scared,
”
he said, in a small voice.
“
I suppose no one thought of bringing some liquor?
”

“
There
’
s a half pint flask in the car,
”
Audrey said.
“
I
’
ll get it.
”

We all had a drink, but it didn
’
t help much. Thunder rumbled.

It sounded nearer; and lightning lit up the graveyard with faint yellow flashes.

“
Let
’
s get it over,
”
I said, and walked down the lane towards the lodge.

I had to break a window before I could get in. Audrey and Reg climbed in after me. After a few minutes
’
search I came upon a leather-bound book.

“
This is it,
”
I said, putting the book on the table.
“
Hold the light, Reg, so I can see.
”

In the bright white beam of the flashlight, with thunder crackling overhead and Audrey and Reg jostling against me, I opened the register at the last page and began to read. The evidence was there for anyone who knew the facts.

There had been only two burials during the past ten weeks, but on a page headed
‘
Private Crypts
’
was the damning evidence:

CRYPT No. 12

Harry MacClay

Mary Warren

Edward Cook

Sheila Ross

Gwen Hurst

“
What the hell does it mean?
”
Reg whispered, staring at the names blankly.

“
Know any of these people?
”
I asked, looking first at him and then at Audrey.

They both shook their heads.

“
Don
’
t you see how it was done?
”
I said.
“
These names have been faked to fool the graveyard attendant. Come on, we
’
re going to take a look at Crypt Twelve.
”

Audrey
’
s sudden scream was drowned by a violent crash of thunder. She clutched at me, making my heart jump wildly.

“
Someone was looking through the window,
”
she said, fearfully.
“
I saw a face . . . pressed against the glass.
”

I pushed her to one side and ran to the window. It was now as dark as the inside of a closet. I put my head out of the window and listened, but apart from the wind moaning in the trees I could hear nothing. Then all sound was blotted out again by another crashing clap of thunder.

I turned back into the room.
“
Are you sure you saw someone?
”
I asked.

Audrey shivered.
“
It looked like a face. I only caught a glimpse of it, but it did really look like someone was watching us.
”

Reg
’
s face had gone the colour of a fish
’
s belly.
“
Let
’
s get outa here,
”
he said unevenly.
“
I don
’
t like this one bit.
”

“
Not before we
’
ve seen Crypt Twelve,
”
I said obstinately.
“
The key must be around here some place.
”

The other two stood a little helplessly, glancing fearfully from time to time at the window while I searched for the key. I found it eventually with a number of others hanging on a board behind the door.

“
Here it is,
”
I said, checking the number burnt on a big wooden tag.
“
Let
’
s go.
”

“
I hate going out into that darkness,
”
Reg said, nervously looking out of the window.

“
You can stay right here if you want to,
”
I said, sliding my leg over the sill,
“
but I
’
m going to look at that crypt.
”

“
We
’
ll come with you,
”
Audrey said hastily.
“
I couldn
’
t stand being left here alone.
”

With the beam of the flashlight to show us the way, I went on ahead, the others behind me. I had no idea where Crypt Twelve was located, but I was going to find it.

We had walked some way before we came to the first crypt. That was numbered 7. There seemed no system or plan in the numbers. The next crypt we came to was 23 and the next one was 15.

A sudden zigzag of brilliant lightning made us all duck, but the thunder was seconds behind the flash. Then it came with a tremendous clap that sent Audrey staggering against me.

“
Oh, I don
’
t like this!
”
she wailed, clinging to me.

“
Hitch up your girdle,
”
I said, giving her a quick hug,
“
we
’
ve got to go through with it.
”

On we went, across new grass, circling tombstones, along cinder paths, down grassy inclines, trampling over flowerbeds and ploughing across freshly dug earth.

It was a nightmare journey; looking for a needle stuck in a wall in a dark room. All the time thunder drummed a muffled march for the dead.

Then suddenly we found it. We found it just when I was going to give up.

We were all tired, hot and frightened. Out of the blackness suddenly caught a glimpse of something white: There before me was large marble crypt fenced in by iron railings. The beam of my flashlight picked out the number—12.

“
For God
’
s sake,
”
I said.
“
Here we are.
”

A long, jagged streak of lightning lit up the graveyard for one blinding second. I could see Audrey and Reg near me, their faces white and their eyes wide.

To the right of me was the white crypt and beyond, some fifty paces away, was Elmer Hench.

I saw all this in the one brief brilliant second and then we were in black darkness again. Instinctively, I had my gun in my fist.

“
Wait,
”
I shouted to Reg, and ran forward.

I cursed the feebleness of the flashlight beam. It was like a pinprick in a strip of black velvet held against a light.

There was no sign of Elmer Hench, but I knew he was there. I had seen him, tall, bony and frightening, like a lost spirit risen from a rave to rebuke us for intruding.

Sweat, cold and clammy, plastered my shirt to my back. I was really scared.

This was a fear that dried my mouth, chilled my blood and turned my legs to water.

It was useless to try to find him. He might be anywhere. He might be behind me, in front of me or at my side. He might even have an away.

I turned back and reached Reg and Audrey, who were standing by the crypt, stiff with alarm,

“
What are you playing at?
”
Reg said, his teeth chattering.

“
Hench is in the graveyard,
”
I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
“
I saw him.
”

Reg stared into the darkness.
“
That ghoul!
”
he gasped.
“
Well, let
’
s get outa here. I
’
ve had enough.
”

I shoved my gun into his hand.
“
We
’
re going into the crypt,
”
I said,
“
and you
’
re seeing that Hench doesn
’
t disturb us. That
’
s your job.
”

“
I don
’
t think I
’
ll ever make a detective,
”
he returned, his voice quavering.
“
I think I
’
ll resign.
”

I wasn
’
t listening to him. With shaking fingers I shoved the key in the lock on the iron gate and turned it. With Audrey at my heels, I ached the door of the crypt. Using the same key, I unlocked the massive marble door and pushed. It opened slowly and together we walked down two steps into the vault. The cloying odour of dead flowers and the smell of death came to us.

Audrey put a cold hand in mine.
“
I
’
m so frightened,
”
she said.

“
Shush!
”
I whispered, listening.

Thunder crashed over our heads, died away and then rumbled in the distance.

I could hear Audrey breathing near me. The fan shaped beam of the flashlight travelled around the square room. I could see shelves and on each shelf was a coffin. I counted five of them.

“
Where
’
s Reg?
”
I asked, not moving, but staring at the coffins in a fever of excitement and nerves,

“
At the door,
”
Audrey said, her voice high-pitched and unnatural.

“
Take it easy, kid,
”
I said, putting my hand on her arm.
“
We
’
ll be out of here in a moment.
”
I turned back to the door, where I could see Reg staring tensely into the darkness.
“
Keep your eyes skinned, Reg,
”
I whispered.
“
If you see anything you don
’
t like, shoot.
”

“
For the love of Mike, get a jerk into it,
”
he pleaded.
“
I
’
m losing stones this way.
”

I knew how he felt. I was feeling the same way myself. The idea of Elmer Hench waiting out there in the darkness made me jumpy. I wouldn
’
t have minded so much if I could have seen him, but the darkness and the thunder and Elmer Hench were a little too much.

I gave Audrey my flashlight.
“
Just stay where you are and hold the light so I can see,
”
I said.
“
I am going to open up one of these coffins.
”

I heard her catch her breath.
“
No . . . don
’
t!
”
she said.
“
Marc . . . please . . .that
’
s horrible! You can
’
t do that.
”

I took from my hip pocket a long thin screwdriver I had brought from the car.
“
I have to do it, honey,
”
I said.
“
There
’
s no other way around it.
”

I left her and went over to the broad shelf opposite me. On it rested two mahogany coffins. Their silver handles gleamed in the bright beam of the flashlight.

As I tried to read what was engraved on the small brass plate screwed on the top of the coffin the light began to bob up and down.

I turned and looked back at Audrey. She had gone very white and I thought she was going to faint. I sprang across to her and put my arm around her.

“
Gee, I
’
m sorry,
”
I said, gently.
“
I shouldn
’
t have brought you here. Look, go and stand near Reg.
”

She shook her head.
“
I
’
m all right,
”
she said, clinging to me.
“
It
’
s just the air in here, and—and I
’
m scared. I
’
ll sit down, I
’
ll be all right in a moment.
”

I took the flashlight from her and sat her down near the door on the bottom marble step.

“
What
’
s going on?
”
Reg asked, his voice unsteady.

“
You watch out for Hench,
”
I said.
“
Never mind what
’
s going on here.
”

“
I
’
m watching,
”
he returned.
“
It
’
s as black as coal out here and even the lightning
’
s stopped. I wish to hell you
’
d get through with this business. I want to go home.
”

“
Can you stick with it for five minutes?
”
I said to Audrey.
“
I shan
’
t be longer than that.
”

“
Of course,
”
she said, but she was looking so white she scared me.

Taking the flashlight, I went back to the coffins again. I was scared myself, but if I wanted to crack this case I had to go through with the business.

I read the plate on the first coffin. It simply said: Harry MacClay. 1900-1945. I began the gruesome task of unscrewing the coffin-lid. My hands were slippery with sweat and unsteady with fear. The screwdriver kept slipping out of the groove in the screw and once it slipped so badly it scored a long cut across the polished surface of the coffin. Thunder rumbled in the distance. That, the creaking of the screws as they came out and my heavy breathing were the only sounds in the damp, musty-smelling vault.