79 Park Avenue (36 page)

There was no regret for himself when he opened his desk drawer and took out the blue-gray revolver. There was only a vast sorrow in him for Betty and the kids as he substituted the cold metal of the revolver's muzzle for the warm bit of the pipe in his mouth.

Chapter 17

AS HE wearily opened the door, he could hear his mother talking to someone in the kitchen. He walked through the parlor to his room slowly. He could not remember ever having been so tired, so completely exhausted.

His mother's voice called from the kitchen. "That you, Mike?"

It was an effort for him to raise his voice. "Yes, Ma." He went into his room and closed the door. He took off his jacket and sank into the easy chair near the window. He Ut a cigarette and stared out with unseeing eyes.

The door opened behind him. He didn't turn. "Are you all right, son?"

"Fm okay, Ma," he answered.

She came around his chair and looked down at him. "You're home early. Is there anything wrong?"

He looked up at her. Concern was written on her face. "There's nothing wrong, Ma."

*'You look poorly," she said. "I'll make you some tea." A note of amioyance crept into his voice. "Leave me alone, Ma," he said sharply. "I'm okay."

He saw the hurt creeping into her eyes, and he reached for her hand. "I'm sorry, Ma," he said. "I didn't mean to be harsh."

"That's all right, son," she said. "I understand.'* ' "No, Ma," he said. No one could really imderstand. Only he knew how he felt.

His mother stood there hesitantly. "I know the look on your face, son."

"What look. Ma?" he asked absently, looking out the window again.

"That girl," his mother said. "She's back. I can tell by your eyes."

He looked up quickly. He didn't speak.

"It's the same look you had that time you went up to the Bronx to bring her home and she didn't come with you." His mother's voice was tinged with pain for him. "You can't get her out of your mind, can you, son?"

He dropped her hand. "I tried, Ma. I don't know what it is. It's like she's a part of me."

"You saw her?" his mother asked.

He shook his head. "No, Ma."

"What is it, then?"

*The police are on their way to arrest her now. I prepared a case against her that will send her to jail."

His mother didn't speak for a moment. "It's, your job, son."

"Don't you tell me that. Ma," he said with a flash of anger. Millersen had said that too. Now Millersen was dead. "You know better!"

"I told you a long time ago that she's no good for you,"

she said, starting for the door. "Maybe you'll believe me now."

"But what do you do when you know there's no one else for you?" he said in an agonized voice.

Maryann looked up from the desk. Tom was standing in front of her. He was smihng. "I got the cab waiting, Miz Maryann," he said. "We got just an hour to get to the airport."

She smiled back at him. "I'll be just a few minutes, Tom."

"I'll wait outside," he said. "I just cain't wait to see my U'l blonde baby."

"I can't wait either," she said.

Tom went out of the office and the door closed behind 'him. She looked for a moment at the photograph of Michelle on the desk, then picked up a few papers and scanned them quickly: bills that could wait until she returned in two weeks. She put them in a folder and placed it in the basket on the desk. She locked the desk drawer and got to her feet.

Picking up her coat from a chair, she cast a last glance around the room. The telephone began to ring. She hesitated and then, making a face, started toward the door. If it was Joker, let him find out tomorrow that she had gone. To hell with him! She would be back soon enough. This I time she was going to keep her promise to Michelle.

As she reached for the doorknob, the door opened and a tall man confronted her. Automatically her eyes dropped to his feet. She felt the hair on the base of her neck begin to rise. Copper!

"Did you ever hear of knocking before you enter a room?" she asked coldly.

He came into the office, and she saw that there were several men behind him. The first man smiled. "Going someplace, baby?" he asked.

**None of your business," she snapped.

A short, dark man pushed his way through the group. **Cut the comedy, George," he said shcu:ply. He turned to her. "Are you Maryann Flood?"

She nodded.

*'rm Joel Rader of the District Attorney's office. These men are police. We would like you to come with us," he said.

She stepped back against her desk. **Is this an arrest?"

*'It sure is, baby," the tall man said coarsely.

She ignored him and spoke to the short, dark man. **What am I charged with, Mr. Rader?" she asked.

**This warrant will spell it out, Miss Flood," Rader said, handing her a folded sheet of paper.

She took it from him and scanned it quickly. When she looked up, her face was impassive. "May I call my attorney?" she asked calmly.

Joel nodded. He watched her admiringly as she walked behind the desk and picked up the telephone. She dialed quickly. No wonder the woman could do what she did. She had nerves of ice.

He could hear a man's voice answer the phone. "Hank," she said quietly, "I've just been arrested. . . . No, I'm still at the office. . . . Yes. ... I'll see you down there."

She put down the telephone and looked at Joel. "I'm ready now," she said.

He stepped aside to let her pass. She walked through the door to the outer office. The old colored man stood there, his face grayish. She stopped to speak to him. "Don't

worry, Tom,'* she said. "Go home and fibt dimier. And wire the baby that we were held up on business."

Tom looked across Vito's oflBce at Joker with a worried expression. *'Is Miz Maryann in big trouble?"

Joker looked at Hank Vito, then turned back to Tom. "She's in big trouble."

"All on 'count of that there lawyer? That one they mention in the papers who done prepared the case? That Mr. Keyes? That one that gone on a vacation while Miz Maryann is in all that trouble?" Tom's voice was indignant.

"That's the boy." Joker's voice was quiet.

"He's a mean man, Mr. Joker," Tom said seriously, "to do that to Miz Maryann jus' because she won' marry up with him."

"What?" Joker leaned forward. "What do you mean?" A vague, torturing memory began to bother him. That friend of Ross's, the boy who used to pick her up after work at the dance hall. His name had been Mike. He stared at Tom. "What do you mean?" he repeated.

"He Michelle's father," Tom said.

"How do you know?" Vito asked. "Did she tell you?"

Tom shook his head. "She never do that."

"Then how do you know?" Vito asked. "If we could prove that, I could get her off easy. No jury in the world would believe it was anything but a frame-up."

"She keep Michelle's birth certificate in the dresser at home. It says his name next to Fatlzer. I see it many times when I clean," Tom said.

Vito got to his feet excitedly. "You go right home and get it. Then bring it right down here. Don't give it to anybody but me. Understand?"

Tom was already on his way to the door. He looked

back at them with a happy grin. "Yes suh, Mr. Hank. I understand."

The door closed behind him and Vito turned to Joker. **Well, what do you make of that?" he asked.

*'I'll be damned!" Joker said in wonder. "And all the time she never said a thing to us."

"You think she still goes for the guy?" Vito asked.

Joker shrugged. "I've stopped trying to figure her a long time ago."

"I won't spring it until the trial," Vito said. "I wouldn't want the D.A. to bring it out before we do." He paused, interrupted by a thought. "You think Keyes knows?"

Joker shook his head. "Uh-uh. I don't think she ever told anyone. Except maybe Ross. And he can't tell nobody."

Vito walked behind his desk. "I don't understand that woman," he said in a puzzled voice. "I saw her in jail this morning. It's her third day there, and she never said a word to me. I wonder if she knows that this could spring her."

"Even if she does, I doubt she would say anything." Joker smiled. "Remember what you said to me a long time ago, Hank? When you first told me about her?'*

Vito shook his head. "No."

"She's a special kind of broad," Joker quoted. "A whore with a code of ethics."

The State vs. Maryann Flood

JOEL looked up from his desk as I walked into the oflBce. Tl^ere was a worried expression on his face. "The Old Man has been yelling Uke hell for yuh," he said. "You better jximp upstairs on the double."

*'What's he want?" I asked, throwing my hat and coat onto a chair.

"I don't know," Joel said. "I heard Vito was with him. I don't Uke it."

**Vito?" I questioned.

Joel nodded. "You better snap it up."

The Old Man's secretary waved me right into his oflfice. The Old Man was seated behind his desk, his eyes cold. Vito sat in a chair opposite him. He turned around when I came in,

I walked past him to the desk. "You sent for me, sir?"

The Old Man nodded, his eyes still cold. "You didn't tell me everything about yourself and Miss Flood." His voice was as cold as his eyes.

I felt anger creeping up in me. This was one thing I

hadn't bargained for. I had told the Old Man everything that was pertinent. It was he who had asked me to stay on when I wanted to quit. I made my voice as cold as his. "I'm afraid I don't understand you.'*

"One Frank MiUersen is enough for any man in one lifetime!" the Old Man shouted, his fist pounding the desk. I kept my voice calm, though my temper was going through the roof. I had been through enough hell without having this old bastard yell at me. "I still don't know what you're talking about."

"Maybe you don't know about this?" the Old Man asked sarcastically, pushing a piece of paper at me.

I picked it up and looked at it. It was a birth certificate. Michelle Keyes. I read farther, feeling the blood leave my face. Mother — Maryann Flood, Father — Michuiel Keyes. I looked at the date. I could feel my heart pounding. It had to be right. It matched the time we had been together.

Now I understood a lot of things. That strange look she had gi^ en me last night when I asked about her daughter. I hadn't suspected that the child was mine.

The Old Man's voice rasped at my ears. "Why didn't you tell me about it?"

I looked up at him and kept my voice as steady as I could. "How could I?" I asked. "This is the first I ever knew of it."

The Old Man snorted. "You don't expect me to believe that, do you?"

My temper finally blew the roof. "I don't give a damn what you believe!" I shouted.

"You know what this will do to our case?" the Old Man asked. "It will kick it into a cocked hat!"

I glared at him. He was the guy who said the only way to win was to go with the truth. "Why should it?" I asked

coldly. "Vito hasn't been able to disprove any of the charges."

For the first time since I had come into the room, he spoke. "Why should I bother?" he asked. "What jury is going to beUeve your charges when they see this? It'll make everything seem Uke a frame. A personal vendetta."

I looked down at him and sneered. "I heard you were a good lawyer, Vito. One of the best. I didn't know you included blackmail in your arsenal."

Vito started out of his chair toward me. I pushed him back with one hand. He sat there glaring at me.

The intercom on the Old Man's desk buzzed. He flipped the switch. "Yes?" he barked into it.

**Miss Flood is here," his secretary's voice said.

"Send her in," the Old Man said.

The door opened and Marja came in. Her gold hair was brushed loosely. She wore the same blue poodle-cloth coat she had worn all through the trial. She came into the office with the same sure walk that had always distinguished her from other women.

She ignored me and looked down at Vito. "What's up?" Her voice was husky.

HUs smile was tight under his elegant mustache. "I think the D.A.'s about to make us a deal."

She looked up at me. A glow came into her eyes. "Mike, are you—?"

Vito's voice was sharp. "I said the D.A., not your boy friend."

The glow faded from her eyes as quickly as it had appeared. She looked at him again. "How come?" she asked.

Silently I handed her the birth certificate. She looked at it quickly, then up at me. A naked pain had come into

her eyes. "Where did you get this?" she asked, her voice trembUng.

I nodded at Vito.

She looked down at him. "How'd you get this, Vito?'* Her voice had gone cold as ice.

He smiled up at her. "Tom brought it to me."

"Why didn't you tell me about it?" she asked.

"And have you louse up your own case because you wanted to protect your boy friend?" he retorted. "I'm your lawyer. I'm supposed to defend you. Even against yourself."

She took a deep breath. "Who cares about him? If I wanted him to know, I would have told him a long time ago. It's Michelle I care about. She's happy now. She thinks her father was killed in the war. How do you think she would feel if she found out how she was bom?"

"You think she'd Uke it better to know that her mother is in the can?" Vito asked.

"It's a lot better than finding out she's a bastard!" Marja snapped.

Vito got to his feet. "You'll do as I say," he said. "There's too much at stake for you to back out now.'* He turned to the D.A. "Well, John, what do you say?"

The Old Man looked at him silently.

"Have we got a deal?" Vito persisted.

The D.A. spoke softly, his eyes on me. "Keyes is trying the case. I make it a point never to interfere with my assistants. Ask him."

Vito looked at me questioningly.

"There'll be no deal,"' I said.

"You won't like it, Mike," he said. "I'm goin' to put you on the stand, and when I get through with you, you'll have no place to go. You'll be all washed up here."

*T11 take the chance," I said grimly. Vito turaed back to the Old Man. "That ends your crack at the Governor's chair."

The Old Man's eyes were inscrutable. "I'll go with Mike," he said.