He Won't Need it Now (14 page)

     
     EDWIN ENGLISH WAS a tall, thick-set guy, with a round fleshy face, blue-white hair, and cold, fishy eyes. He sat at a big flat-top desk, a cigar burning slowly in his short white fingers, staring with blank eyes at Duffy.
     He sat there for maybe twenty minutes listening to Duffy talk. He examined with no sign of interest the note-book Duffy threw on to the desk. Then he put the cigar back in his mouth and half-closed his eyes. He sat there for some time looking through Duffy at something hanging on the wall behind Duffy's head.
     Duffy was satisfied that he had told him everything, concisely and clearly. He thought he had made a swell job of it.
     English took the cigar out of his mouth and tapped the top of the desk with a well-manicured finger-nail. “I could turn you up for a murder rap, it seems,” he said.
     Duffy grinned mirthlessly. “Ain't you working from the wrong angle?” he said. “You ain't got to worry about me. It's your daughter that you gotta concentrate on.”
     English said, “I'm always concentrating on my daughter.”
     Duffy nodded. “Sure, but not half as hard as you gotta work now. Look, suppose you let me handle this?”
     English said, “You'll be picked up by the police No, I don't think you would be any good.”
     Duffy got to his feet. He still carried the thin smile on his mouth. “Well, well,” he said, “I guessed you'd feel like that. If you think I'm taking the rap for her, you got it all wrong. I'm going right down to headquarters and I'm going to squawk so loud you'll hear it right up here.”
     English said, “You haven't got any proof.”
     Duffy shrugged. “That's what you think,” he said. “I've got enough evidence to get that jane fried three times over.
     English raised his hand. “Wait,” he said. “Perhaps we can think up something.”
     Duffy came back to the desk. He leant over and stared hard into English's eyes. “You're playing it wrong. Can't you see how they'd Fall over themselves to get Annabel indicted for a first-degree murder rap? They're snapping round your heels already, English, and you know it. One false move from you, and you're out. Your policy ain't popular. I don't like it myself. Let me tell you, it's a goddam awful policy with a daughter like yours around.”
     English pushed his chair back and stood up. Just for a second Duffy saw the fishy eyes look uneasy, then they went bland again. Duffy grinned to himself. He knew he had slipped in a hot one.
     “What do you propose?” English said.
     “Cool the cops off me, for a start. You can do it. Once I've got protection, I can go after Morgan and run him out. I can pick up Annabel and get her into a nut-house... that's the place for her.”
     English brooded. “You've got to have more than protection. You want money and you want help.”.
     Duffy said, “Gilroy's mob's backing me.”
     “Gilroy? Yes, I know him. He's all right, but he's not big enough.”
     Duffy sat on the edge of the desk. “With me around, he'll be big enough.”
     “And money?”
     “Suppose you put up some dough? It's worth a lot to fix this mess, ain't it?”
     English walked to the door. “We'll see about that,” he said. “Suppose you come down to headquarters and we'll talk things over with the right man.”
     Duffy looked at him hard. He shook his head. “You gotta fix that,” he said. “This is too important to me to risk a double-cross. I'd look a grand mug walking into headquarters, if you were losing your grip.”
     English shrugged. “You have a strange way of expressing yourself,” he said. “But have it your own way. I'll ring you.”
     Duffy looked at the clock on the desk. It was just after eleven o'clock. “I'll do the ringing. I'll come through after one o'clock, I'll expect to get moving right away by then.”
     English nodded, then, as if a thought had struck him, he said, “Where's Annabel now?”
     Duffy shrugged. “The last time I saw her, she was telling a little nance to shoot me in the guts. You've got a grand daughter, ain't you?”
     Leaving English, Duffy picked up the Buick and drove slowly back to the Bronx. He left the car at the garage and then went to his room.
     He sent the thin man out to get the newspapers. While he was waiting for them he mixed himself a strong Scotch and lit a cigarette. He let his mind wander as he sat there, but he kept coming back to Olga. He could see her lying naked with the dagger in her breast. He tried to think of other things, but his mind kept switching back to that picture.
     He was glad when the thin man came in and dumped several tabloids on the table. Duffy gave him some small change. Then he went through the papers carefully. When he had finished them, he sat back and lit another cigarette. There was nothing in any of the papers about Gleason's murder.
     He got up, went to the telephone and dialled Annabel's number. He sat for a minute or so listening to the buzz, and then hung up. Well, anyway, she had skipped all right.
     Then he wandered about the room, thinking. He wondered if Morgan's gang had wiped her out and got rid of both bodies. He thought that was an idea, but he couldn't do anything about that for the moment.
     Just before one o'clock, Gilroy came in with two other men. Gilroy said, “This is Shep,” to Duffy. Duffy looked at Shep and nodded. He thought Shep was an extraordinary-looking man. He had a very small head perched on a long neck, and the rest of his body was grossly fat. His head just didn't fit his body. Duffy thought it looked like the maker of Shep had run out of the right size, and had just slapped on the first head that came to hand. Schultz was a tall, wiry bird, with a thick mop of black hair, that stood up like a wire brush.
     Duffy said, “Sit down, boys, and have a drink.”
     They sat down self-consciously, looked at the empty table and then at Duffy. The thin man put his head round the door and Duffy said, “Let's have some Scotch.”
     Gilroy stood by the window. He said, “I've put the general idea up. They'll go for it okay.”
     Shep said in a gritty voice, “Ain't you the guy the cops are looking for?”
     Duffy glanced at Gilroy, who nodded. Then he said, “That's right, but not for long.” He got up and went over to the telephone and dialled. While he was waiting for the line to connect, the thin man came in with the drinks. Schultz reached out a bony hand and began to fix them.
     Duffy said into the 'phone, “English?” then he said, “You fixed it yet?”
     English said, “It wasn't, easy, but you're in the clear now. You gotta pin this rap on someone, but it's not to be you know who.”.
     Duffy grinned. “That's okay. I only want a stiff or two, and that's who's done it.”
     English grunted. “You've got to have your stiffs first,” he said.
     “If you could see this outfit sitting right here, you wouldn't worry about that. I want some dough, don't I?”
     English said, “If you run Morgan out and Annabel where I don't have to see her again, you're going to get plenty.”
     “It's got to be better than that. I want some on the nail.”
     English was silent for a moment. “I'll open an account for you at the National. You can draw up to five thousand dollars.”
     Duffy said, “You do that,” and hung up.
     Gilroy came over from the window and took a glass from Schultz. He said, “Let's go.”
     Duffy sat down. “English is covering me. He's lifted the heat for the moment. He'll back me for dough if we give him action. I guess we might start right away.”
     Schultz said, “What's my split?”
     “Five grand each,” Duffy said, doing sums in his head.
     Shep nodded. “I could use that,” he said.
     “Your first job is to find Annabel English,” Duffy said, folding his arms and resting his elbows on the table. “That jane is dangerous, and she's got to be put where she won't be.”
     Gilroy said, “Knock her off?” He said it with distaste.
     Duffy shook his head. “I don't want any killings I can fix her. She's as crazy as a coon.”
     Shep said, “We'll find her, but the nut angle is not up our street.”
     Duffy said, “You find her. I'll do the rest.”
     “Where do we start?”
     “The last time I saw her, she was with Morgan's mob. They will know what happened to her.”
     Shep clambered to his feet. “That's easy,” he said. “I know that gang. Leave it to me.”
     Duffy waited until he had lumbered out, then he looked at Gilroy. “Give me the lowdown on Morgan?”
     Gilroy said, “He's running three clubs. He's got offices on Transverse Avenue by the river. That's where he does his business.”
     “What business?”
     “All his rackets. Calls the place the Morgan Navigation Trust Co. It's his headquarters for vice, smuggling, getting girls over from Cuba, you know the whole works.”
     Duffy went over to the book and turned up Morgan Navigation Co. He dialled and waited. Then he said, “Mr. Morgan there?”
     A pert voice said, “What's it about?”
     Duffy said curtly, “I'll ask him to tell you, if he wants you to know.”
     She connected him. Before she plugged, he heard her say, “Some day these sharp punks will cut themselves with their own wit.”
     Duffy grinned. Morgan's voice came over. “Yes?”
     Duffy said, “Listen, Morgan. Your mob let you down.”
     Morgan said very evenly, “You had the breaks that time, Duffy, but watch out.”
     “Gleason's out of the bidding,” Duffy said, looking with blank eyes at the wall in front of him. “That little book's going to cost you fifty grand.”
     He heard Morgan draw his breath in, then he said, “My boys are collecting that free of charge. I've warned you. They're coming gunning for you.”
     Duffy said, “On second thoughts, I'll turn the book over to the State.”
     “I shouldn't do that.” Morgan said it just a little too quickly. There was no punch in the threat.
     “I'm turning it over, just the same. Then we'll see what happens. I got twenty-five grand out of Gleason, so I should worry.”
     “Wait.” Morgan raised his voice. “I'll give you five grand.”
     Duffy said, “Make it twenty-five, and it's yours.”
     “Okay,” Morgan's voice was very soft. “You bring the book over, and I'll have the money here.”
     “I'm not that screwy,” Duffy said. “Turn it over in the open. I'll be in the lobby of the Belmont Plaza at six o'clock tonight. We'll make the exchange.”
     There was a short pause, then Morgan said, “Okay,” and hung up.
     Gilroy had been listening, his eyes on Duffy's back. He said, “You're going to have a sweet time bringing that dough home.”
     Duffy picked up his hat. “Come on,” he said, “let's go.”
     They followed him over to the garage. Duffy said to Schultz, “Can you handle this bus?”
     Schultz nodded. “You bet,” he said, faintly surprised.
     “Well, drive it then. Gilroy and me want to talk.”
     Gilroy and Duffy got in at the back and Schultz climbed in under the wheel. “Where to?” Schultz asked, jerking the starter.
     Duffy gave him the address of his bank, and Schultz nosed the car carefully down the narrow alley into the main street.
     Duffy said to Gilroy, “We'll double-cross this louse right away. I'm turning the list over to English and he can get busy on it. It's too big for us to handle Next, we give the copy to Morgan and get his dough. Then we fix Annabel, and after that we'll call round on Morgan's office and collect any evidence to run him out. If we don't turn any up, we'll have to run him out on our own.”
     Gilroy leant back against the cushions and closed his eyes. He said sleepily, “You got quite a programme, ain't you?”
     Duffy said, “I want to get shot of this, then you boys can spend what you've earned.”
     Schultz ran the car to the kerb and Duffy went into the bank. The other two stayed in the car, waiting. When Duffy came out he glanced up and down the street, then stepped hastily into the car. Schultz pulled away at once.
     Duffy gave English's address. He said, “Make it fast.” Schultz glanced at him in the driving-mirror, nodded, and swung to the side streets.
     Gilroy said, “Seems a shame to turn that list over to the cops.”
     Duffy shrugged. “You ain't thinking of handling a thing that big?” he asked.
     Gilroy shook his head. “I don't handle dope,” he said. “I just don't like to give those punks a break.”
     Duffy grinned. “It'll wash up Morgan, so what the hell?”
     English was surprised to see him. He took the book from Duffy, glanced at it, then said, “So this is the first step, eh?”
     Duffy nodded. “You turn that over to the Narcotic Squad. It ain't evidence, but it might stampede some of those hopheads Anyway, it'll stop Morgan running the same game.”
     English nodded. “Have you found Annabel yet?”
     “It won't be long.” Duffy went to the door. “I'll get in touch pretty soon.”
     Out in the street once more, he went over to the Buick. Gilroy said, “Ain't it time to eat?”
     Duffy climbed in. “Go ahead,” he said. “I've got time on my hands till six.”
     Schultz swung the car in a half-circle, reversed her back again, then, spinning the wheel hard round, he turned her completely, heading rapidly east.
      
     

     
     SHEP CAME IN JUST after five o'clock. Duffy was cleaning his Colt. Gilroy and Schultz sat in chairs, watching him.
     Duffy looked up sharply and said, “Found her?”
     Shep waddled in, sat down and blotted his face with his handkerchief. “Yeah,” he said. “Guess where?”
     Duffy put his gun on the table. His mouth became a thin line. “Where?” he said.
     Shep smiled happily; he said, “It's rich. She's gone hot pants for Morgan's nance.”
     Duffy's eyebrows rose. “Clive?”
     Shep nodded. “She's over at the little rat's apartment right now. He's in bed, screaming hell, because someone trod on his pan.”
     Duffy got to his feet. “We'll go right over and pick her up,” he said, slipping the gun down his waist-band.
     Gilroy said, “All of us?”
     Duffy shook his head. “Suppose Shep and me go,” he said.
     Shep said, “Sure.” He mumbled something to Gilroy and gave a loud tinny laugh.
     Duffy said, “I'll go on to the Belmont Plaza after. Suppose you two boys get down there and watch the lobby. We ain't going to take any chances with Morgan.”
     Gilroy nodded. “Okay,” he said.
     Duffy and Shep went out and climbed in the Buick. Duffy took the wheel. As he pushed the Buick down the street, he said, “If that jane gets tough, knock her off.”
     Shep nodded. “She's a grand looker, ain't she?” Then he said sadly, “It's tough being fat.”
     Duffy shot him a side-glance. “You don't know when you're getting the breaks,” he said shortly. “That jane's poison.”
     Shep gave him some directions, then said wistfully, “I guess it'd be good, going places with a honey like that.”
     Duffy said nothing. “He drove fast. After a ten-minute run, he said, “This the street?”
     Shep stuck his little head out of the window and peered.
     “That's right.”
     Duffy drew into the kerb. They both got out. “What number did you say?”
     Shep hunted in his pockets, found a scrap of paper, screwed up his eyes, then said, “1469.”
     Duffy checked the house near him. “It's on the other side farther down.”
     Together they crossed the street and began walking casually down. Duffy said, “They're both dangerous; you got to watch 'em, Shep.”
     Shep grinned. “Me... I'm scared to hell... like hell,” he said.
     1469 was a tall, gaunt apartment house. Duffy ran up the steps and checked the list of names. “Clive Wessen,” he said. He rang the next bell, waited until the latch gave, pushed open the door and walked in. Shep shuffled behind him. “Third floor,” Duffy said, keeping his voice down.
     They climbed the stairs slowly. The place was clean and bright. Duffy said, “These punks live well, don't they?”
     Shep said nothing, he was saving his breath. On the third floor, Duffy took the Colt out; he held it loosely in his hand, hanging down by his side.
     He nodded to a door at the far end of the passage. “There it is,” he said. “Can you open it?”
     Shep said, “I can open any door. Watch me.” Moving very quietly, he went to the door, examined the lock, then turned his head and beamed. “It's a cinch,” he said.
     “Get going,” Duffy murmured.
     Shep felt in his pocket, took out a little tool, fitted it in the lock and turned. Duffy heard the lock slip with a faint click. He said in Shep's ear, “Give me two minutes, then come on in.”
     Shep nodded and stood aside. Duffy gently turned the handle, pushed open the door, and walked in. He found himself in a small hall, about twelve feet by sixteen. Facing him were two doors. He trod quietly over and listened. He thought he heard someone talking behind the right-hand door. Holding his gun waist-high, he pushed open the door, stepped in quickly. Then he said in a cold voice, “You seduced him yet?”
     Annabel spun round. She was standing by a divan, on which Clive was lying. Clive's face was beautifully bandaged with plaster. Someone had made a very neat job of it. All Duffy could see of Clive's face was two eyes that hated him.
     Duffy said very sharply, “Don't start anything. Keep still.”
     Clive said in a curiously adenoidal voice, “Get out of here.”
     Annabel ran her fingers through her hair. She smiled at Duffy. “I think you're cute,” she said.
     Duffy said, “Sit down.”
     Shep wandered in. He looked first at Clive, then at Annabel. He puffed out his cheeks, then took off his hat.
     She had sat down on the foot of the divan. She said in her breathless voice, “Who's your gentleman friend?”
     Shep beamed and fingered his necktie. He glanced at Duffy. “What a honeypot!” he said.
     Duffy had his eyes on Clive. Although Clive was dressed, he had a rug over him, hiding his hands. Duffy said, “Put your hands where I can see them.”
     “Suppose we be friends...?” Annabel broke in.
     Duffy turned his head a little. “You're coming with me,” he told her. “We've got a home for you to go to.”
     She said, “Now?”
     Duffy said, “That's k. Right now.”
     She stood up. “Home?” she said suddenly. “What do you mean... home?”
     Duffy said, “You'll know. Say good-bye to your boyfriend, you ain't seeing him any more.”
     She looked at Clive, then she shrugged a little. “I don't mind,” she said. “He's not quite in one piece. He's a waste of time.”
     Shep grinned. “A jane like you ain't got no right running with a nance,” he said seriously.
     Clive said in a low voice, “Get to hell out of here, all of you.”
     Annabel said, “May I get my things?”
     Duffy shook his head. “You can come as you are,” he said. “I want to talk to you... come on.”
     She giggled. “I love you when you get like that,” she said. “Let's talk; I've got lots to tell you.” She waved her hand at Clive. “About him and Morgan. You'll eat it up.
     Clive drew his lips off his teeth, then he shot her. Duffy just caught the slight movement under the rug as the gun roared. The rug began to smoulder.
     Duffy fired at Clive, but the big Colt kicked up and the bullet smacked against the wall two feet above Clive's head. Moving with incredible rapidity, Shep flung himself on Clive.
     Duffy walked cautiously over to Annabel, looked at her, then shoved his gun in his hip pocket and knelt down beside her. She lay on her back, one hand clenched tightly to her right side. She opened her eyes and looked at him, then she began to cry.
     Duffy said, “Take it easy. You'll be all right.”
     He picked her up. Shep said, “Bring her here.” He had tossed Clive on to the floor. Clive lay flat. Shep had smacked him hard on the chin.
     Duffy put her on the divan. He said urgently, “Get some water and dressing. She's bleeding like hell.”
     Shep went out of the room. Duffy could hear him pulling drawers open and hunting about in the next room. He took his pocket-knife and ripped away her clothes round the wound. “Hurry, damn you,” he shouted to Shep when he saw where she was shot.
     Shep came back in a lumbering run. He had a handful of small towels and a jug of water. Duffy took them from him. “'Phone English, and tell him,” he said. “Get going, this is urgent.”
     While he was fixing the wound, she opened her eyes again. She looked at him. She saw the sweat glistening on his face and she said, “Am I going to die?”
     He couldn't do anything to stop the bleeding. He said rather helplessly, “It's the best way for you, I think.”
     She said, “I think so, too,” and she began to cry again.
     He tied a pad over the wound, but he knew it was useless. She said, “Give me a drink.”
     He had to hold her head to give her the Scotch. She said, “I'm sorry about everything.”
     Duffy's face was very hard. “You little girls are always sorry when it's too late.”
     She said, “It was your fault that I killed your woman.”
     Duffy said, “It's best you should go like this.” He couldn't bring himself to say anything else.
     “No other man's ever turned me down,” she said. “Remember I offered myself?”
     “Yeah, I remember. I guessed you'd want to settle that score.”
     “If you wrote down everything, I could sign it,” she said. “I'd like that.”
     Duffy took a quick step to the writing-desk, found a pad and came back. She said, in a low voice, “You'll be quick?”
     Duffy said, “Sure. You killed Cattley, didn't you?”
     “Yes, Cattley was double-crossing Gleason, who was my husband. No one knew about that. Gleason was bad, but he was making money. I had to have that. I learnt that Cattley was taking half, so I pushed him down the lift shaft. He was a little man, it was quite easy. You came along and covered me on that. Then Max. You see, they all bothered me. I tried once just to see, but none of them were any good. So after that I didn't want them again. Max was always pressing me. Then he got the photos, and asked me up to his flat to trade them in the usual way, so I went and I killed him too.”
     Duffy wrote quickly. He gave her another drink. Shep came in and stood behind him. He said, “English is coming.” Duffy raised his hand for silence.
     Annabel went on, “I hated you. When I went out to the Shann woman's villa to find the book, I thought you'd both be out. I saw you drive the car away, and I thought she was with you. Then I went inside and she started getting excited, so I killed her too.”
     Duffy said, “It got you nowhere, did it?”
     She said, so faintly that Duffy had to lean forward, “I was so tired of... Murray... when you came... I... thought I could... put it... on you.”
     Duffy scribbled quickly, put the pen in her hand. “Can you do it?” he said anxiously.
     She said, “I... can't... see.”
     Duffy held her hand and put the nib on the paper. “Sign,” he said loudly and roughly. The pen slipped out of her fingers and her hand dropped out of his. He turned and looked at Shep. “Can you beat that?” he said savagely. “This confession lets me out, and I'm damned if she doesn't die on me before she signs.”
     Shep said, “That's tough.”
     Duffy stood up. “Look at her, Shep,” he said. “You ain't likely to find a worse woman in the country.”
     Shep shrugged. “What's it matter, as long as she looks right?”
     Duffy said impatiently, “Clive okay?”
     Shep nodded. “He'll be out for another hour.”
     Duffy glanced at the clock. He saw it was quarter to six. He said, “Come on, we got a date. Let English fix this.”
     Shep followed him out of the apartment and down the stairs. Duffy said when they got into the street, “Morgan'll just hate me for this.”
     Shep grinned as he climbed into the car. “Yeah,” he said. “Will they burn the nance?”
     Duffy shrugged. “Maybe English'll hush it all up. But you bet they'll pin something on that nance to keep him busy.”
     It was just after six when Duffy swung the Buick to the kerb outside the Belmont Plaza. “Come with me,” he said.
     They walked into the busy lobby. Across the lounge he saw Schultz reading a newspaper. Schultz made no sign that he had seen him, but by the way he folded the paper and laid it down Duffy knew he had.
     The little guy and Joe came in. Joe was looking mad, he scowled at Duffy. The little guy said, “You're going to get into trouble one of these days.”
     Duffy said, “Skip the talk. Let's get down to business.” He walked into the bar. The little guy Followed him, leaving Joe in the lobby. Shep beamed at Joe, but said nothing.
     The little guy said, when they got to the bar, “What you doing with Gilroy's mob?”
     Duffy stared at him coldly. “You'll know before long,” he said. “Come on, let's get this over, you stink.”
     The little guy giggled. He put his hand inside his coat and took out an envelope. He opened it and drew out a sheaf of notes. Duffy watched him count them. Twenty-five grand. Then Duffy took the note-book out and they exchanged. The little guy said, “And the duplicate?” Duffy smiled. His eyes were like ice. “The State's got that.”
     The little guy shook his head sadly. “You shouldn't have done that,” he said. “Morgan's going to get mad when I tell him that.”
     Duffy said deliberately, “Morgan can —— himself.”
     The little guy giggled again. “I'll tell him that too.” He put the note-book in his pocket. “Those notes are phoneys,” he said, as an afterthought.
     Duffy took the envelope out of his pocket, examined one of the notes carefully. It looked all right to him. “You don't say,” he said.
     The little guy nodded cheerfully. “Sure, Morgan wouldn't pay a punk like you in real dough.”
     Duffy put the notes away. He had an idea.
     The little guy said, “Well, for God's sake, you're taking it quietly, ain't you?”
     Duffy said, “Take my tip, scram.”
     The little guy looked at him, then nodded. “You'll see me again, of course,” he said apologetically.
     Duffy said, “Before you think.”
     He watched the little guy walk out, followed by Joe, then he beckoned to Shep and called for two ryes. Shep came over. “You got it?” he said.
     Duffy slipped one of the notes out and gave it to him.
     Shep glanced at it, beamed and said, “As easy as that, huh?”
     Duffy pushed the glass over to him, drained his quickly and nodded at the barman. “One more,” he said.
     Shep said, “You drink too quickly.”
     “So long as I don't drink too much, why should I worry?”
     Shep frowned, then said, “It amounts to the same, don't it?”
     He gave Duffy back the note reluctantly. Duffy put it with the others. He said, “Let's go.”
     Gilroy and Schultz were sitting in the Buick waiting for them. When the Buick was rolling, Gilroy said, “No fuss?”
     Duffy handed the notes over to him. “There they are,” he said.
     Gilroy counted them and whistled. “This don't seem natural,” he said.
     Duffy stared out of the window. “Maybe, it ain't.”
     Gilroy examined the notes carefully, then he said, “Phoneys.”
     Duffy nodded. “Yeah, he told me as much before he left.”
     “So what?”
     Duffy turned his face, so that he looked at Gilroy.
     “I guess we're going to frame Morgan with those. It'll be worth twenty-five grand to clap him away. English'll pay as much as that for the job.”
     “How... frame?”
     “We'll go out to his place and plant that stuff tonight. There's a nice little rap for making notes as big as these. Once we get those planted, then we tip English, and he does the rest.”
     Gilroy said, “The dough would've been better.”
     Duffy shrugged. “You can't have everything,” he said.
     Shep had been listening to the conversation. He turned his head. “Say, those notes sure made a sap of me. Why not put 'em on the street? We'd pass 'em okay.”