Johnnie (14 page)

“Okay,” Johnnie nodded.

“’Night.”

“Good night.”

He started out but the cop turned after him. “Where are you stopping, soldier?”

“I don’t know yet,” Johnnie admitted. “My compadres are downtown waiting for me.” He hoped. “Bill always takes care of things like that.”

“How did you get so far uptown?”

“I came for a subway ride,” Johnnie explained.

The cop doubled up. “That’s a good one.”

“Well, I wanted to,” Johnnie defended. “Hank and Bill thought I was crazy but that’s what I wanted to do.”

“Pardon me for laughing,” the cop apologized. “I couldn’t help it. I live in the Bronx. Twice a day, every day, I’m a whole hour wasting time on the subway getting from and to home. I couldn’t imagine anyone riding the subway for fun.” He removed his cap now, brushed back the thick dark hair, just a little curly not like Johnnie’s yellow bush. “Come on and have a cup of coffee with me just to show there’s no hard feelings. Then I’ll see you to your subway and you can go downtown to your friends.”

“I’m not going downtown just yet,” Johnnie said hesitantly. “There’s no hard feelings only I haven’t got time for a coffee. Wish I had but I’m late now.”

“Where are you going?” A bit of suspicion went into that question.

Johnnie recited glibly, “The Dragham on West End Avenue.”

“You know somebody there?”

“Oh yes,” Johnnie nodded rapidly. “I don’t know Edna Riggens—it’s her apartment—but I know Rupe. He’s the one I’m looking for.”

“No trouble?” The cop wasn’t suspicious but he was anxious again.

Johnnie laughed. “No, sir. I like Rupe.” He closed his mouth quick. If he weren’t careful he’d be talking too much. He brought his hand up vaguely, “Well, good night, sir. I sure enjoyed talking to you.”

The cop settled his cap. “I might as well walk that far with you, soldier. Seeing’s you’re a stranger, you might get lost.”

“You needn’t do that,” Johnnie assured him. “I never get lost. Except once in Newark and that was the parade.”

“No trouble at all, soldier. I’m not looking forward to my subway ride.” He haw-hawed on that, started Johnnie down the street.

You just couldn’t tell a cop, “Run along, Bub,” not even a cop off duty. Besides this fellow was nice. He talked kind of funny, sort of “dese” and “dose” and “goil,” but so did most the New Yorkers he’d met at camp. Anyhow this cop was a regular Joe. He was trying to be helpful. He didn’t know that Johnnie was mixed up with a mess of screwballs. If he, Johnnie, had had a guy like this with him tonight, he would have cleaned out that place hours ago, not wasted a good evening. For a moment Johnnie was inclined to tell all. He buttoned up his lip tighter. It wasn’t going to do him any good in the Army if he got mixed up in a murder investigation. He would let Trudy take care of the police angle. She’d call them. She said she would.

“What’s your name, soldier?” the cop asked chattily.

“Private First Class Johnnie Brown.”

“How is it down in Texas? Lots of broncos and sagebrush and Indians?”

“Sure,” Johnnie grinned. “What’s your name?”

“Mike Costello.”

“Say!” Johnnie shouted. “You played left end for Fordham two years ago. Or are you that Michael Costello?”

The cop looked modest. “I’m the one.”

“I was right end at Texas A. and M. last year. Not that I was in your class, Officer Costello.”

“Call me Mike, Johnnie. We turn here.”

They were on a long side street now. Almost pitch dark. Wasn’t bad having someone beside you. Not that Johnnie was scared of the dark. But he liked company. “Remember that game you played with N. Y. U.?”

“De Vi’lets,” Mike Costello growled. “They spiked me in the first two minutes of play. I’ll tell you how it was.”

Johnnie hung on every word. He didn’t even realize they’d been standing under the canopy of a mid-street apartment house until Mike concluded, “And that’s why I scummed four of those gorillas—by accident, I mean. We always play clean. Well, here we are at the Dragham. You don’t want me to wait and show you to the subway?”

“No, thanks,” Johnnie said. “I’ll be walking back with Rupe to his cousin’s. I guess they’ll see I find the right subway later.” He clasped Mike Costello’s hand. “I’m sure glad I bumped into you. I really did, didn’t I? Anyhow it’s something I’ll always remember. My kid brother’s going to get a big boot out of it when I write him I met Mike Costello of Fordham. Good night, Mike.”

“Good night, Johnnie. Happy landings.” He strode back into the gloom. Johnnie peered into the dim foyer. This wasn’t any dump. The lobby was full of over-stuffed furniture. In one chair there was a plum uniform with brass braid. The little guy in it nodded in snoring rhythm. Johnnie put his hand on the door. And suppose Rupe wasn’t here? Who was he, Johnnie, to barge in on some strange woman at two o’clock in the morning? He took one long-legged stride back to the pavement. He spread his mouth wide with his forefinger and his little finger and he whistled. It sounded loud in the pitch quiet of West End Avenue. The murky figure down near the corner turned. Johnnie waved an arm wildly. Mike Costello came pounding back.

“What is it?” He asked. He wasn’t a bit out of breath.

“Listen,” Johnnie began. He barged right in without thinking of any consequences. “Listen, Mike, would you be interested in a murder?”

Mike Costello leaned to him, smelled his breath. “I thought it was beer. It is beer.”

“Only one beer,” Johnnie said. “And the champagne was hours ago. I’m strictly sober.”

“Didn’t you say murder?”

Johnnie nodded.

“Here?”

“Oh no, not here. I haven’t been here yet.” Johnnie was polite. “I thought maybe if you aren’t in too big a hurry to get home you might go in with me here to get Rupe, then we’ll go back to where the murder is.”

“And where is that?”

Johnnie’s face fell. “I didn’t even think. If Rupe isn’t here I don’t know how to get back.” He reared up. “I’ve got to get back. She snitched my dog tags.”

“Who’s she?”

“Trudy. She’s the one sent me after Rupe. And she took my dog tags so I’d come back.”

Mike was patient. “What about this murder?”

“That’s where it happened. In that house we’re going back to—if Rupe’s here.”

“There really was a murder?”

“Yeah. Rudo and me found the body.”

“Who is it?”

“A little guy named Theo. I don’t know his last name.”

“Who killed him?”

“I don’t know,” Johnnie said wide-eyed. “You’re a policeman. I thought maybe you could find out. Trudy said she was going to call the police but I’ve been thinking maybe she won’t. The whole bunch is pretty loopy. I think they’re—”

Mike Costello sniffed again.

“I know it makes me sound loopy but I’m not,” Johnnie defended. “Strictly not. You come along with me and I’ll show you.”

The cop said, “I ought to turn in an alarm if this is straight. Even if I am really off duty—I was just going to check out at my precinct when I met you. You say you don’t know where this house is. How did you get there in the first place?”

“I followed a fat old man I saw on the subway. His name’s Dorp. He was talking German and I didn’t like it. It’s his house. Listen, Mike, I have to hurry and get Rupe back before they take Rudo to the Clipper. I got to get my dog tags. You don’t know that top sergeant of mine. I’ll tell you all about it after we get Rupe.”

Mike scratched his head. “Either you’re stir crazy or giving me a rib is what I think, soldier.”

“I’ll prove it,” Johnnie coaxed. “Will you come?”

Mike hesitated. “I might as well, Texas. Any guy with an imagination like yours needs a caretaker.”

Johnnie sighed relief. “I sure hoped you would. And honestly every word is true.”

They entered the foyer. Costello tapped the sleeping plum uniform on the knee. The little guy jumped up. When he recognized a cop he jumped again.

Mike asked, “What’s that name, Johnnie?”

“Edna Riggens.”

The little guy talked foreign. “What is it? I will call the manager, yes?”

“That you won’t,” Mike said. “You’ll take us up to Edna Riggens’ apartment and you won’t call her either.” He softened. “It isn’t a pinch. We’re pals.”

Normal pallor returned to the man’s face. “Yes. Yes indeed.”

“Get going,” Mike ordered. “Into the elevator with you. What’s her number?”

“Ten B.”

“That better be right.”

“It is right.”

“And we don’t want any manager in this. So be sure you don’t talk until we leave.”

“Yes, sir,” the man said sullenly. He stopped the cage at ten. “It is front left.”

Johnnie stepped out first. Mike Costello followed. He said, “I ought to run that guy in on suspicion.”

“Not now. We haven’t time.” Johnnie stopped at B. “Listen, Mike, don’t tell Rupe anything about the murder yet or he might not come with us.”

“I won’t,” Mike swore. “I won’t mention it to a soul.” It was obvious that he still didn’t believe it.

Johnnie pushed the button, kept his finger there. They waited. He didn’t like this. Trudy didn’t know Rupe was here. Edna wasn’t going to appreciate getting out of bed at two in the morning for nothing.

The door opened with, “Hold your horses.” The girl inside the darkened hall looked out at them and then she took another look, opening her brown eyes as big as plates. She was a honey. Upswept red hair, uplift black satin tight as a cinch. She smelled like whisky. Her voice wasn’t pleasant when she said, “You got the wrong number, soldier.” There was a Conga squawking away in the inner room. She yelled back, “Turn that damn thing off, Rupe.”

“No, I haven’t, babe,” Johnnie grinned. He moved his foot inside the door.

“You sure have. I’ve never laid eyes on you before and you know it. Honestly, copper”—she dazzled a smile beyond Johnnie to Mike—“I’ve never laid eyes on him.”

Johnnie heard Rupe’s lazy voice coming behind her. “What’s going on, Edna?” He came in sight. “It’s Johnnie.” He smiled all over his face. “It’s my soldier boy, Edna.” He brushed her out of the way. “Come on in, soldier. Bring your friend. Sure, come on. I’ve got just what you’re looking for. Don’t mind Edna, I pay the rent.” He reached out, put his arm around Johnnie’s shoulder. He spoke backward to Mike. “You come right along. Any friend of Johnnie’s is my friend. Right here, soldier.”

It was a nice living room with flowered couches and easy chairs and a big radio-phonograph. Edna followed reluctantly. Her eyes were still stretched wide. She picked up a half-filled highball glass and sat down plunk in the farthest away chair.

“Just what you’re looking for, Johnnie. Help yourself.” Rupe pointed to six bottles of champagne on the table. One was empty, one was being emptied. “Take one. More than I need. She doesn’t like it.”

“It makes me sick,” Edna said through another gulp of whisky.

“You too,” Rupe urged Mike. His face dripped sudden surprise. “It’s a policeman!”

“Sure, it’s a copper, Bright-eyes,” Edna muttered.

“He’s off duty,” Johnnie explained. “He’s Michael Costello—remember? Left end at Fordham. Officer Costello, Mr. Ruprecht.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Ruprecht bowed low. He teetered upward, urged, “Have a bottle. It’s Ferenz’s champagne, the best champagne.” He raised his half-used bottle.

“We haven’t time,” Johnnie said. “We got to go.”

“So sorry,” Edna gritted. She took a bigger drink.

“You just arrived,” Ruprecht complained.

“I came to get you. Trudy wants you.”

Edna jumped up. “Who the hell is Trudy?”

“Trudy’s his cousin,” Johnnie said. “She needs him.”

“Cousin, my eye-wash. He never told me about her.” She went over to Rupe, put pointed black satin against him. “Don’t go, Rupe. There’s something damn funny about this. It smells.”

Rupe disregarded her. “What does Trudy want?” He’d swung out of being tight fast enough, the way he had once before tonight.

“It’s about Rudolph. They can’t find the papers, the ones he has to have to go on the Clipper.”

“I haven’t them.” Ruprecht felt in his pockets, shook his head. “Probably has them himself. One of his tricks.”

“No, he hasn’t,” Johnnie stated out of knowledge. “It’s serious. Mr. Lessering even left his party to come over.”

“Not much of a party.” Rupe lifted his eyebrows. “I left too.”

“Trudy’s been phoning all the night clubs for you.”

“Dear Trudy.” The redhead choked.

“Finally she asked me to go to the two places she couldn’t phone to Hans’—”

“How is old Hans?” Ruprecht brightened. “I’ve neglected him. I’ll have to go back to beer. I’m getting tired of champagne anyway.”

“—and here.”

“I have a phone,” Edna bristled. “Why couldn’t this dame phone?”

“You don’t know Trudy, my sweet,” Rupe soothed. “She’d never call me at a woman’s. I might get the erroneous idea she cared.”

Edna drew away. “That isn’t healthy. If she’s your cousin.”

“Very distant. Under the rose perhaps.” Rupe uptilted the bottle. “I’m afraid we had better go, Johnnie. If Trudy went to such lengths, even seeking a policeman—”

“She didn’t send Mike,” Johnnie explained quickly. “I found him myself.”

“You’re not taking him with us?”

Johnnie hesitated. “Well, yes I am. But it’s for a different reason. You don’t need to worry about that, Rupe.”

“I doubt he’ll be welcome,” said Rupe sagely. His eyes narrowed slightly. “I doubt very much if he’ll get in.”

“I’ll get in,” Mike Costello announced with simple and menacing faith. “Don’t worry about that, Bub. I’ll get in.”

Rupe shrugged. “If that is how you feel—” He took up his tall hat, his topcoat.

“You’re walking out on me for this Trudy?” Edna shrilled.

“Time you were in bed anyway,” Mike told her.

“If you do you needn’t ever come crawling back here!”

Rupe spoke sweetly. “I never crawl, my pet. So undignified. But I’ll be back. It may be years. It may be forever. But I shall return, my love.”

“Get out!” She yelled. Johnnie was ready to duck but she didn’t throw the glass.

Rupe said, “We mustn’t forget the refreshments, Johnnie!” He returned to the table, held out two bottles to Johnnie, took the other two himself. “Good-by, my little dove. Until tomorrow. Alas, tomorrow never comes.”