1965 - The Way the Cookie Crumbles (20 page)

Charley, the desk sergeant, said, ‘Joe, I’ve got Mr. Harry Tullas down here. He says you want to see him.’

Tullas was the man who had phoned in, claiming to have seen a girl and a man driving towards Coral Cove.

‘Shoot him up, Charlie,’ Beigler said.

Harry Tullas was a tall, heavily built man, wearing a cheap, but carefully pressed suit. As Beigler got up and shook hands with him, he guessed Tullas was a salesman of some kind, and he was right.

‘Thank you for coming in, Mr. Tullas,’ he said. ‘The Chief wants to meet you. Will you come along with me?’

‘Glad to,’ Tullas said. ‘I only hope I’m not wasting your time.’

Beigler led him into Terrell’s office and introduced him.

‘Sit down, Mr. Tullas,’ Terrell said, waving to a chair. ‘I understand you think you can help us.’

‘I listened to this broadcast this morning. I remembered this girl so I thought it wouldn’t do any harm to give you a call.’

‘I wish everyone was as public-spirited,’ Terrell said with feeling. ‘Have some coffee?’

‘No, thanks, never touch it.’

At a nod from Terrell, Beigler poured two paper cups of coffee, one for Terrell and the other for himself. Both men always worked better with coffee at their elbows.

‘Well now, Mr. Tullas.’

‘I represent Mellor’s Products, Captain,’ Tullas said. ‘Grocery. I call on all the little stores out this way from Miami to Key West. On 17th of last month I made an early start. I left Miami at seven-thirty in the morning.’

‘Just a moment, Mr. Tullas. Let’s get all this straight. We haven’t your address, have we?’ Terrell broke in.

‘377 Biscayne Street, Miami.’

‘Thanks. Now go on.’

‘I got onto 4A and I was heading for Seacombe where I had a couple of calls to make,’ Tullas continued. ‘The traffic was pretty heavy. In front of me was a Roadmaster Buick convertible with the top down. A man was driving and a blonde girl was at his side. The traffic was moving along around fifty miles an hour. Then suddenly this guy indicated by his trafficator he was going to turn right. I had to brake pretty quickly because I hadn’t expected him to turn right.’

‘Why was that?’ Terrell asked.

‘All the traffic was heading for Seacombe. The road this guy was turning into is the dirt road to Coral Cove. People just don’t go to Coral Cove during the week. It leads to nowhere but the sea. It’s a weekend place. I go there sometimes on Sundays with the kids.’

‘What time would this be?’

‘A little after eight o’clock. These two weren’t dressed for the beach. I thought it was a little odd. Then when I heard the broadcast, I thought I should call you.’

‘You did right. They went up this road and you lost sight of them?’

‘Yeah, but, later, I saw the man again in Seacombe.’

‘Tell me about the girl. Can you describe her?’

‘She looked around seventeen or eighteen. She wore a white shirt and a small black hat. Oh, yes, she wore blue framed glasses.’

Terrell and Beigler exchanged glances.

‘You say you saw the man again?’

‘That’s correct. I had made my calls in Seacombe and I was at the bus terminal filling up with gas. This guy pulled up near where I was standing. I recognized the car and I recognized him. He got out of the car and went over to where a girl was sitting.’

‘Just a moment, Mr. Tullas. What about the other girl?’

‘She wasn’t with him this time.’

Again Terrell and Beigler exchanged glances.

‘Now you say he picked up another girl?’

‘That’s right.’ Tullas grinned. ‘I’m a respectably married man with three kids, Captain, but this girl certainly attracted my attention. I reckon every man around had an eye on her. She had more sex in her little finger than some of the sex kittens you read about have in their whole bodies. Well, this guy went over to her and said something. She said something to him. Whatever it was she said, it made him pretty mad. He got red in the face and he turned around and went back to his car. I’ve never seen a guy get so mad so quickly. I was interested, you understand, because I had seen him go up the dirt road with this other girl and here he was with another girl. Well, as I said, he got mad and I thought for a moment this glamour puss had given him the brush, but no, she got up and went after him and got into the car. They drove away, heading for Paradise City. That’s the last I saw of them.’

‘Did you get the licence number of the car?’

‘Why, no. I wasn’t interested in the car. It was a Buick Roadmaster convertible. That’s all I can tell you about it.’

‘Colour?’

‘Two tone: red and blue.’

‘New?’

‘About a year.’

‘And this man? Can you describe him?’

‘Sure. He looked like a law officer. That would be my guess or maybe a bank official. He was around six foot tall with massive shoulders; around 200 pounds at a guess. Handsome, blond, suntanned. He had a close cut moustache. He was wearing a brown straw hat and a fawn

suit: a snappy dresser.’

Beigler suddenly sat forward. Something had nudged his memory.

‘Mr. Tullas, what age would this guy be?’

‘Oh, thirty-eight. forty.’

‘Was there anything else you noticed about his face: something particular?’

Tullas frowned.

‘I don’t know what you mean by particular, he had a cleft chin: sort of gave him a racy look, you know what I mean, like a film star.’

Beigler snatched up the telephone receiver while Terrell stared expectantly at him.

‘Max? Get me that photo of Phil Algir the New York police sent us. You know, the con man,’ Beigler said.

‘Algir?’ Terrell said, lifting his bushy eyebrows.

Beigler replaced the receiver.

‘Could be wrong, but the description fits. He ducked out of New York while they were getting a warrant for him. Could be him.’

‘While we’re waiting. can you describe this girl who went with him?’ Terrell asked Tullas.

‘You bet I can! I first saw her as I parked my car to make a call. She got off the Miami airport bus and she walked over to a bench and sat down. I spotted her because she had this ducktail walk.’ Tullas grinned. ‘She was certainly waving her prat around, Captain. Seen nothing like it since Monroe.’

‘What age would she be?’

‘Oh, eighteen or nineteen. She was about five foot six and well built. She wore a dark green suede jacket and tight black pants. She had on a white head scarf.’

‘She came off the airport bus?’

‘Yeah. She was still sitting on the bench when I had finished my call. Then this guy came up.’

Jacoby came in and put a file on the desk and then went away.

Beigler took a photograph they had been sent from the file and put it in front of Tullas.

‘That him?’ he asked.

Tullas stared at the photograph, then nodded.

‘Yeah. that’s him!’

When Tullas had gone, Terrell said, ‘Looks like we’ve got our break. Get after Algir, Joe. He may still be here, but I doubt it. Tell Hess I want him.’

Hess came into Terrell’s office a few minutes later.

Quickly Terrell told him what Tullas had said.

‘I don’t know who this girl is Algir picked up, but find her. She could lead us to him. She got off the airport bus a little after 08.15 hours. She must have come in on the New York flight. Check it, Fred.’

* * *

Hess walked into the Air Control office at the Miami Airport. A girl paused in her typing and looked inquiringly at him.

‘Paradise City police,’ Hess said and flashed his badge. As the girl got hastily to her feet and came over to the dividing counter, he went on. ‘I want to see the passengers list New York flight arriving here 07.30 hours on the 17
^th
of last month.’

‘Yes, sir. I can give you that.’

She went away and Hess wandered over to a bench seat and sat down. He had left Terrell talking to the New York police on the telephone. An all-out hunt for Algir was being organized. What puzzled Hess after reading Algir’s record was why he had turned killer. There was no hint of violence in his long police record. Algir was a smooth operator. He didn’t have to use violence.

The girl came back with the passengers’ list.

‘You can keep that, sir,’ she said, handing it to Hess.

He studied the thirty-two names. One name made him stiffen and frown.

Ira Marsh.

That’s damn odd, he thought. Marsh? Could it be a coincidence? Muriel Marsh. Ira Marsh. Relations?

‘Got any dope on this woman. Ira Marsh?’ he asked the girl who was watching him with interest.

‘I have a copy of her ticket if that would help you.’

‘Yeah. let’s see it.’

The girl went to the file and after a little delay produced the ticket. It told him that Ira Marsh was travelling alone and she lived at 579, East Battery Street, New York.

‘Thanks,’ Hess said and leaving the office, he walked over to the Police Control barrier.

An hour and a half later, he was back at Police Headquarters, reporting to Terrell.

‘The girl Tullas saw at the Seacombe bus terminal is Ira Marsh,’ he said as he helped himself to coffee. ‘The boys at the Control barrier remember her. She seems to have imprinted herself on a lot of guys’ minds. Ira Marsh was on the New York flight. She took a bus from the airport to Seacombe. The point is who is Ira Marsh? We have her address. How’s about getting New York to find out more about her?’

‘Do that,’ Terrell said, ‘and fast. Find out if she happens to be related to Devon’s wife. She could have come down for the funeral, but what’s she doing with Algir?’

Hess had scarcely left the room when Beigler and Lepski came in.

‘Tom’s got something that could mean something, Chief,’ Beigler said. ‘Among the names of the girls who might have worn those spectacles is Norena Devon. Lepski has seen the girl driving around four or five times during the past weeks. He says she doesn’t wear spectacles. I sent him to talk to Dr. Weidman who issued a prescription. Take it from there, Tom.’

‘Well, I saw this guy,’ Lepski said. ‘There’s no mistake. Norena Devon has acute astigmatism. The right eye worse than the left. I showed the doc the lens and he says it was made to his prescription. He’s given me the name of the optician but the guy who fitted the glasses is away somewhere for the weekend. He’ll be back Tuesday morning.’

Terrell rubbed the back of his neck, frowning at Lepski.

‘I don’t get any of this. Why are you wasting your time chasing after this when we know Miss Devon isn’t missing?’

Lepski shifted his feet.

‘I thought it was odd. Miss Devon doesn’t wear spectacles.’

‘You mean she never wears them?’

‘I wouldn’t say that, but according to doc she would be half blind if she didn’t wear them always.’

‘Don’t you know girls don’t like wearing glasses?’

Terrell said impatiently. ‘She probably goes around half blind. Girls are like that.’

‘She drives a car without them.’

‘Okay, okay, I’ll talk to her father when I have time. Now, for God’s sake, Tom, let’s get down to something that’s important.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It’s close on nine o’clock and we’ve missed the news broadcast. Get Algir’s description out on the seven-thirty news broadcast tomorrow morning. Take that photo and start working the hotels. See if he’s staying in town. Get going!’

Lepski took the photograph, exchanged glances with Beigler and went out.

Terrell said, ‘And, Joe, don’t send men out on unimportant assignments when we want every man we can get to work on Algir. You should know better than to bother about Mel Devon’s daughter.’

‘Yes, Chief,’ Beigler said, crestfallen. ‘I thought it was odd.’

‘All right skip it!’ Terrell snapped. ‘Suppose you call up that dwarf Edris and find out if Muriel Devon ever mentioned this girl, Ira Marsh to him.’

‘He’ll be at the restaurant now.’

‘Call him there.’

Beigler went back to his desk. Hess was replacing the receiver on his desk.

‘They’re sending someone to East Battery Street and they’ll be calling back,’ he said, yawned and stood up to stretch. ‘Looks like another late night.’

Beigler grunted. He dialled La Coquille restaurant.

After a short delay, Louis, the maître d’hôtel, answered.

‘City Police. I want to talk to Edris,’ Beigler said.

‘He’s not here.’

‘Where is he?’

‘New York. He won’t be back for ten days. He’s visiting a dying friend.’

‘Well, at least he’s got a friend,’ Beigler said, and hung up.

Hess said, ‘You know what foxed me is why Algir turned killer. It’s rare for a con man to do that. What’s the motive? Must have been something pretty big.’

Beigler pulled the telephone towards him.

‘You worry about it,’ he said. ‘I’ve got my own worries.’ He called the General Motors Night Service.

When a man answered, he said, ‘Paradise City Police. I’m trying to trace a Buick Roadmaster convertible. Two tone: blue and red, probably last year’s model. Any ideas?’

‘We’ve got three of them in the garage right now,’ the man told him.

‘The owner is six foot tall, big, blue eyes, blond hair and a snappy dresser.’

‘Oh, sure. We know him, Mr. Harry Chambers. He’s visiting down here.’

‘You haven’t his car there?’ Beigler said, sitting on the edge of his chair.

‘No. It was in last week. Haven’t seen him since then.’

‘He owe you anything?’

‘I don’t know. I’ll find out. Hold on.’

Beigler sat back and winked at Hess.

‘Got him first shot. Who says I’m not one hell of a detective?’

‘Luck,’ Hess said sourly.

The man came back on the line.

‘No. He paid up on the ninth. Our clerk got the idea he was leaving town.’

‘Know his address?’

‘He was staying at the Regent.’

‘Do you remember if this guy had a cleft chin?’

‘Sure. Big enough to lose a marble in.’

‘Thanks,’ Beigler said and smiling happily, he replaced the receiver. ‘He’s at the Regent or was and Tom’s walking his legs off trying to find him!’

Hess reached for the telephone. He called the radio room and told them to contact Lepski fast and tell him to go to the Regent Hotel.