The Mike Hammer Collection (69 page)

I didn't find a damn thing.

What I did find was in the tiny fireplace and burned to a crisp. Papers, completely burned papers that fell to dust as I touched them. Whatever they were, he had done a good job of burning them. Not one corner or bit showed that was anything but black.

I swore to myself and went back to the filing cabinet where I slid out an insurance policy on Perry's wife. I used the policy as a pusher to get all the bits into the envelope, then sealed the flap and put the policy back in the drawer.

Before I went out I tried to make sure everything was just like he had left it. When I gave a few things an extra adjustment I closed the door and let the two locks click into place.

I went out the same way I came in, making a rough attempt at wiping out the tracks I had left in the snow and mud behind the bushes. When I climbed in behind the wheel of my car I wasn't feeling too bad. Things were making a little more sense. I turned on the key, let the engine warm up and switched back to Manhattan.

At Fifty-ninth Street I pulled over and went into a drugstore and called the Calway Merchandising outfit. They gave me Perry's business address and I put in a call to them too. When I asked for Mr. Perry the switchboard operator told me to wait a moment and put through a connection.

A voice said, “Mr. Perry's office.”

“I'd like to speak to Mr. Perry, please.”

“I'm sorry,” the voice said, “Mr. Perry has left town. We don't know when he'll be back. Can I help you?”

“Well ... I don't know. Mr. Perry ordered a set of golf clubs and wanted them delivered today. He wasn't at home.”

“Oh ... I see. His trip was rather sudden and he didn't leave word here where he could be reached. Can you hold the parcel?”

“Yeah, we'll do that,” I lied.

Emil Perry had very definitely departed for parts unknown. I wondered how long he'd be away.

When I got back in my car I didn't stop until I had reached my office building. I had another package waiting for me. If I hadn't gone in through the basement it would have been a surprise package. The elevator operator gave a sudden start when I stepped in the car and looked at me nervously.

I said, “What's the matter with you?”

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Maybe I shouldn't tell you this, Mr. Hammer, but some policemen went up to your office a little while ago. Real big guys they were. Two of 'em are watching the lobby besides.”

I stepped out of that car fast. “Anybody in my office now?”

“Uh-huh. That pretty girl who works for you. Is there any trouble, Mr. Hammer?”

“Plenty, I think. Look, forget you saw me. I'll make it up to you later.”

“Oh, that's all right, Mr. Hammer. Glad to help.”

He closed the door and brought the elevator upstairs. I walked over to the phone on the wall and dropped in a nickel, then dialed my own number. I heard the two clicks as both Velda's phone and the extension were lifted at the same time.

Velda sounded nervous when she said good morning. I held my handkerchief over the mouthpiece and said, “Mr. Hammer, please.”

“I'm sorry, but he hasn't come in yet. Can I take a message?”

I grunted and made like I was thinking, then, “Yes, if you please. He is to meet me at the Cashmore Bar in Brooklyn in an hour from now. I'll be a few minutes late, so if he calls in, remind him.”

“Very well,” Velda replied. Her voice had a snicker in it now, “I'll tell him.”

I stood there by the phone and let ten minutes go by slowly, then I put in another nickel and did the same thing over again. Velda said, “You can come up now, Mike. They're gone. Brooklyn is a long way off.”

She had her feet up on the desk paring her nails with a file when I walked in. She said, “Just like you used to do, Mike.”

“I don't wear dresses you can see up, though.”

Her feet came down with a bang and she got red. “How'd you find out ...” her head nodded toward the door, “about them?”

“The elevator operator put me wise. He goes on our bonus list. What did they want?”

“You.”

“What for?”

“They seemed to think you shot somebody.”

“That sniveling little bastard had the nerve to do it!” I threw my hat at the chair and ripped out a string of curses. I swung around, mad as hell. “Who were they?”

“They let me know they were from the D.A.'s office.” A little worried frown drew lines across her forehead. “Mike ... is it bad?”

“It's getting worse. Get me Pat on the phone, will you?”

While she was dialing I went to the closet and got out the other bottle of sherry. Velda handed me the phone as I finished pouring two glasses.

I tried to make my voice bright but there was too much mad in it. I said, “It's me, Pat. Some of the D.A.'s boys just paid me a visit.”

He sounded amazed. “What are you doing there, then?”

“I wasn't here to receive them. A dirty dog sent them on a wild-goose chase to Brooklyn. What goes on?”

“You're in deep, Mike. This morning the D.A. sent out orders to pick you up. There was a shooting out on the Island last night. Two guys caught a slug and one of them was a fellow named Rainey.”

“Sounds familiar. Was I identified?”

“No, but you were seen in the vicinity and overheard threatening this Rainey fellow just a short time before.”

“Did Rainey say all this himself?”

“He couldn't very well. Rainey is dead.”

“What!” My voice sounded like an explosion.

“Mike ...”

My mouth couldn't form an answer.

Pat said it again. “Mike ... did you kill him?”

“No,” I got out. “I'll be in the bar up the street. Meet me there, will you? I have things to talk about.”

“Give me an hour. By the way, where were you last night?”

I paused. “Home. Home in bed sound asleep.”

“Can you prove it?”

“No.”

“Okay, I'll see you in a little while.”

Velda had drained both glasses while I was talking and was filling them up again. She looked like she needed them. “Rainey's dead,” I told her. “I didn't kill him but I wish I had.”

Velda bit her lip. “I figured as much. The D.A. is tagging you for it, isn't he?”

“Right on the nose. What happened last night?”

She handed me a glass and we lifted them together. Hers went down first. “I won some money. Clyde got me slightly drunk and propositioned me. I didn't say no; I said later. He's still interested. I met a lot of people. That's what happened.”

“A waste of time.”

“Not entirely. We joined a party of visiting firemen and some very pretty young ladies. The life of the party was Anton Lipsek and he was quite drunk. He suggested they go up to his apartment in the Village and some of them did. I wanted to go but Clyde made a poor excuse of not being able to break away from his business. One other couple refused too, mainly because the boy friend was ahead on the roulette wheel and wanted to go back to it. The girl with him was the same one you had that night.”

“Connie?”

“Is that her name?” she asked coldly.

I grinned and said it was.

Velda rocked back in her seat and sipped the sherry. “Two of the girls that went along with Anton worked with Connie. I heard them talking shop a few minutes before your girl friend made some catty remarks that brought the conversation to a halt.”

She waited until I had finished my drink. “Where were you last night?”

“Out to see a guy named Rainey.”

Her face went white. “But ... but you told Pat ...”

“I know. I said I didn't kill him. All I did was shoot him in the leg a little bit.”

“Good heavens! Then
you
did ...”

I rocked my head from side to side until she got the idea. “He wasn't hurt bad. The killer did me one better and plugged him after I left. That's the way it had to be. I'll find out the details later.” I stuck a cigarette in my mouth and let my eyes find hers while I lit it. “What time did you meet Clyde last night?”

Her eyes dropped and her lips went into a pout. “He made me wait until twelve o'clock. He said he was tied up with some work. I got halfway stood up, Mike, and right after you were telling me how nice I looked.”

The match burned down to my fingers before I put it out. “That gave him a chance to get out to Rainey, kill him, and get back. That just about does it!” Velda's eyes popped wide-open and she swallowed hard. “Oh, no, Mike ... no I—I was with him right after ...”

“On Dinky it wouldn't show if he just killed a guy. Not on Dinky. He's got too many of 'em under his belt.”

I picked my hat from the chair where I had tossed it and straightened out the wrinkles in the crown. “If the police call again stall 'em off. Don't mention Pat. If the D.A. is there call him a dirty name for me. I'll be back later.”

When I stepped out the door I knew I wasn't going to be anywhere later. A big burly character in high-top shoes got up off the top step where he was sitting and said, “Lucky the boys left a couple of us here after all. They're gonna be mad when they get back from Brooklyn.” Another character just as big came from the other end of the hall and joined in on the other side.

I said, “Let's see your warrant.”

They showed it to me. The first guy said, “Let's go, Hammer, and no tricks unless you want a fist in your face.” I shrugged and marched over to the elevator with them.

The operator caught wise right off and shook his head sadly. I could see he was thinking that I should've known better. I squeezed over behind him as some others got on and by the time we hit the lobby I felt a little better. When the operator changed his uniform tonight he was going to be wondering where that .25 automatic came from. Maybe he'd even turn it in to the cops like a good citizen. They'd have a swell time running down that toy.

There was a squad car right outside and I got in with a cop on either side of me. Nobody said a word and when I pulled out a pack of butts one of the cops slapped them out of my hands. He had three cigars stuffed in the breast pocket of his overcoat and when I faked a stretch my elbow turned them into mush. I got a dirty look for that. He got a better one back.

The D.A. had his office all ready for me. A uniformed cop stood by the door and the two detectives ushered me to a straight-backed chair and took their places behind it. The D.A. was looking very happy indeed.

“Am I under arrest?”

“It looks that way, doesn't it?”

“Yes or no?” I gave him the best sarcasm I could muster. His teeth grated together.

“You're under arrest,” he said. “For murder.”

“I want to use the telephone.”

He started smiling again. “Certainly. Go right ahead. I'll be glad to speak to you through a lawyer. I want to hear him try to tell me you were home in bed last night. When he does I'll drag in the super of your apartment, the doorman and the people who live on both sides of you who have already sworn that they heard nothing going on in your place last night.”

I picked up the phone and asked for outside. I gave the number of the bar where I was supposed to meet Pat and watched the D.A. jot it down on a pad. Flynn, the Irish bartender, answered and I said, “This is Mike Hammer, Flynn. There's a party there who can vouch for my whereabouts last night. Tell him to come up to the D.A.'s office, will you?”

He was starting to shout the message down the bar when I hung up. The D.A. had his legs crossed and kept rocking one knee up and down. “I'll be expecting my license back some time this week. With it I want a note of apology or you might not win the next election.”

One of the cops smacked me across the back of my head.

“What's the story?” I asked.

The D.A. couldn't keep still any longer. His lips went thin and he got a lot of pleasure out of his words. “I'll tell you, Mr. Hammer. Correct me if I'm wrong. You were out to the Glenwood Arena last night. You argued with this Rainey. Two men described you and identified you from your picture. Later they were all in the office when you opened the door and started shooting. One was hit in the leg, Rainey was hit in the leg and head. Is that right?”

“Where's the gun?”

“I give you credit enough to have gotten rid of it.”

“What happens when you put those witnesses on the stand?”

He frowned and grated his teeth again.

“It sounds to me,” I told him, “that they might make pretty crummy witnesses. They must be sterling characters.”

“They'll do,” he said. “I'm waiting to hear who it is that can alibi you.”

I didn't have to answer that. Pat walked in the office, his face gray around the mouth, but when his eyes lit on the smirking puss of the D.A. it disappeared. Bright boy gave him an ugly stare. Pat tried for a little respect and didn't make it. I've heard him talk to guys in the line-up the same way he did to the D.A. “
I
was with him last night. If you had let the proper department handle this you would have known it sooner. I went up to his apartment about nine and was there until four A.M. playing cards.”

The D.A.'s face was livid. I could see every vein in his hand as he gripped the end of the desk. “How'd you get in?”

Pat looked unconcerned. “Through the back way. We parked around the block and walked through the buildings. Why?”

“What was so interesting at this man's apartment that made you go there?”