Murder for the Bride (18 page)

The group cackled obediently.

“This isn’t doing Miss Townsend any good, Bryant.”

“You’ve got the whip hand. All you’ve got to do is yell cop. What do you want from me?”

“That can be explained better in private. I just want to talk to you. Let’s go back to your car.”

“How did you know I was coming?”

“I didn’t. I just wanted to see who had phoned her. She was very clever and very foolish and very brave. Having you come was a bit of luck, now.”

“Can’t you fellas be quiet back there so people can hear?” the guide complained.

I stopped. We were at the corner of Gallatin and Governor Nicholls Streets. The tour went on down Governor Nicholls Street toward the Haunted House. I put my back against a building.

“We’ll talk here.” I debated my chances of taking a quick swing at him.

He had all the extra senses of a jungle animal. He moved away, glanced in both directions, then let his coat fall open just enough so that I could see the gleaming butt plate of the holstered automatic.

“I could give it to you on the street and win myself a medal,” he half whispered.

“You have something to say, I believe.”

“We found out that Miss Townsend was taking an unhealthy interest in some of the organizational aspects of our group, Bryant. We were curious about what you two may have talked about. As you know from the stupid girl who thought she could double-cross us, we’re still after a certain document. We’re not convinced that it doesn’t exist here in this city. Until we find it, no risk is too great to take. I must emphasize that.”

“You haven’t said anything yet.”

“I saw you start to search Haussmann’s body, Bryant. You handled yourself very well, by the way. It left me with a pretty problem when the stranger showed up. I didn’t know whether to step in and save you or not.”

“Siddman saved you the trouble.”

“Very emotional man, apparently, that Siddman. It was nice to find you again, the other night. I followed you to
Miss Townsend’s place, and then went back and searched Haussmann’s body. A necessary risk. He didn’t have it. I know it isn’t on your person. But, Bryant, I do know that you know where it is.”

“I don’t.”

“Please don’t waste time, Bryant.” He paused until a stroller was out of earshot. “We had one of our people phone Miss Townsend. His voice is not unlike yours. For one moment Miss Townsend was fooled. I will repeat her exact words. She said, ‘Dil, that document they want is—Let me hear your voice again, Dil.’ As we had phoned from the neighborhood, we were able to arrive just as she came out the door. Now you see my point. Miss Townsend is a surprisingly stubborn young woman. Both of you share the information we want. Surely you don’t want us to test the extent of her bravery and her determination, Bryant.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Just that some people can be persuaded with very little bodily harm. I am afraid Miss Townsend is not one of those. The proper drugs, the ones used in the mother country, are not available here. We are banking on your personal regard for the girl.”

“Have you hurt her?” I asked. My voice sounded thick.

“Just a little. Just enough to discover the extent of her stubbornness.”

“But you can get the information from her?”

“Of course. Everyone has a breaking point. It takes time. We’ve already taken too much time.”

It had been on the tip of my tongue to say that Jill had been going to tell me something about the document that I didn’t know. The danger was that I might have convinced him. And then he would have shaken me off and gone back to Jill. I was in no position to hunt for her. The day grew darker by the moment. Straw Hat glanced up at the sky. The black clouds were rolling across the city, obscuring the sunset.

“What kind of deal can I make?” I asked him.

“Can you produce the document?”

“Maybe. If Jill is turned loose at once. If I’m cleared
of suspicion regarding Haussmann and the Dvalianova girl.”

“Those things can be discussed after we have the document and after we’ve inspected it to see if it’s genuine.”

“I’m supposed to trust you?”

“Why not? You don’t have much choice, do you?” He seemed completely at ease. He rocked back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet.

“I don’t think you’re as confident as you look.”

He stopped rocking. “That’s an odd thing to say.”

“How about this. Maybe this will shake you a little. The Townsend girl does not know where the document is. I asked her to find out exactly what it is. That’s what she started to tell me, to tell the man who sounded like me. But she doesn’t know where it is.”

I’ve played a lot of poker. You can’t run a bluff too bravely. It makes it look like a bluff. You can’t underplay it without achieving the same result. There is a narrow area between extreme confidence and faint uncertainty where a bluff has a chance of succeeding.

The faint look of dismay in his eyes was immediately concealed. I followed it up quickly. “As far as the girl is concerned, she means exactly nothing to me. I was sticking with her because in a spot like I’m in, it’s nice to have a newspaper on your side. You can do what you damn please with her. Ethically, I want to make her part of any bargain I make with you. But to me the other considerations are more important. Plus a certain amount of cash.”

“I can’t authorize a cash payment.”

“You can check with someone who can, though.”

“Possibly, Bryant.”

“Where is the girl?”

“In a safe place.”

He glanced down the street. At that moment he was within range. I could have taken that moment to slam my fist against the unprotected angle of his jaw. Nothing would have been gained. I was beginning to understand him better. A classic word fitted him. Hireling. Like a wind-up toy that will go dutifully in the intended direction. Now the wind-up toy had run into the leg of a chair. The
wheels still turned. But it had to be picked up, rewound, and headed in the new direction.

“You won’t take my word,” he said.

“Not for anything. I wouldn’t take your word that in another half hour it’s going to be dark.”

“All we want is the document. Nothing else.”

“This is a stalemate, isn’t it?”

He shifted uneasily. “It can be worked out.”

“Not standing here on the corner, my friend.”

He made up his mind. “You can wait at the girl’s apartment. I’ll tell them what you want.”

“Understand, I’d rather be picked up by the police than have you people get hold of me. Maybe I’d talk quicker than the girl.”

He gave me a long look. “It is possible. Somehow I don’t think so.”

“And maybe,” I said, “I’ve arranged things so that if I’m out of touch for too long, a friend will turn the document over to the Washington people.”

He licked his lips. “They’re all over the city. They’ve made things more difficult than we’d thought.”

“I don’t want to go to the girl’s apartment. I’ll wait in the car I came in.”

“It will take maybe a half hour.”

I took a deep breath. We started to walk, side by side. Friends strolling casually through the blue city. I seemed to see us as though I were a third person looking down onto the street. A big guy in a fancy shirt taking long strides. A smaller man, carefully dressed, walking with that oddly delicate muscular precision. A hunted man and a subversive agent, looking like a pair of tourists heading for the bright lights.

O
n the way back to the car I tried to think of some course of action. I knew that I wasn’t adept enough to follow Straw Hat. And very probably he would go directly to a phone. And very possibly he would phone the Metairie Road home of one Tram Widdmar. I couldn’t figure it any other way.

I kept remembering Jill’s fragmentary notes on structure. There had to be an A. Mr. A would be top co-ordinator for both the surface and subsurface groups. There was a clear, clean line of deduction that made Tram appear as Mr. A. He had money, power, influence, freedom, access to communications, access to port traffic. If he prevented the police from knowing of Jill’s difficulty by keeping his finger on the phone cradle, it could only mean that he had prior knowledge that she was in difficulty. His reluctance to have me attempt to get in touch with her was a tip-off to that effect. Her difficulties had to spring directly from what I had told him. I had told him that I had stayed with her. I had told him of the folder. I had talked too damn much. That talking jag was odd. Not typical. And the brutal hangover the next morning was indicative. It suddenly appeared obvious that something had been added to my drinks. Some drug that would have the effect of loosening the tongue. Scopolamine, or something of that nature.

The next deductive step was frighteningly clear. My attack on Tram would indicate to him that somehow I had found out. That made me dangerous to him. If I were picked up by the police, he might be through. Maybe he couldn’t stand the sort of investigation that would result. To protect his cover, I had to be eliminated. If the man walking at my side were to get in touch with Tram, the mechanical toy would be set in motion, aimed at me.
Better that the hireling be eliminated than the keystone of the arch fall.

I thought of the Tram I had known. I saw him in a new way. That booming, bouncing exterior seemed more false the more I thought of it. It was window dressing. Good old Tram. Party boy. Bland-faced brown cupid. But native-born. How had they got to Tram? How had they made him believe? Did he fancy himself as the future commissar of New Orleans? I wondered if I should have struck harder. Removing Tram suddenly seemed more important than anything that could happen to Jill or myself. I knew, without any shadow of doubt, that Jill would feel the same.

We reached the car. Straw Hat said, “You stay right here. It’s dark enough now so that there isn’t much chance of anyone recognizing you.” He walked briskly to the corner. I waited a full two minutes and then let myself back into the apartment.

I phoned Sam Spencer. The man who takes care of him answered and connected me immediately with Sam.

“Great God, Dil!” he rumbled. “Has everybody in the world gone nuts except me?”

“Maybe except me and thee, Sam. I haven’t got much time. Look. Get hold of Captain Paris or Lieutenant Zeck. Tell them this. Tell them to get hold of the Washington people and tell them that Tram Widdmar is the kingpin of the organization. Tell them to grab him before he can run. Tell them that if they dig long enough and hard enough, they can find what they need.”

“Tram Widdmar? What organization?”

“Just do that, Sam. They’ll know what I mean.”

“Dil, don’t hang up. I can get you out of the country.”

“Thanks, Sam. Not yet.”

I hung up and stood in the gloom of the apartment. One thing was taken care of. One small thing, and maybe that wouldn’t work. Maybe no one would believe me. I went back out to the car. I tapped a cigarette on the horn button and used the car lighter. The slow minutes went by. I was making a guess. A long-shot guess. The chain of reasoning was pretty tenuous. First, it had to be Tram, Mr. A, that Straw Hat would try to contact. Sammy
would try to wake up Tram. Sammy would cut Tram loose. Tram would give Straw Hat the word. Blasting me on the street, in Tram’s car, would be poor policy. They would want to get me into a safe place before doing it. They had Jill in a safe place. The easiest way to get me there would be to pretend to be willing to make a deal. And once I was there, it would be a lot more to the point to extract information from me before the inevitable erasure. That left me one course of action. To pretend to go along with Straw Hat, without suspicion, and take any chance I could find.

The more I thought about it, the less I liked it. They weren’t going to take chances with me. And I had no training in this sort of thing. I was strong and quick, but there are tricks in every trade. I might do Jill more harm than good.

The courage born of anger ebbed fast, and uncertainty began to take over. The plan was stupid. I was casting myself as the indomitable hero, master of all situations. His strength was as the strength of ten … It was the sort of plan of action you can make after seeing too many Errol Flynn movies.

I opened the door and stepped out onto the street, with some half-baked idea of concealing myself and then trying to follow Straw Hat, even though I suspected that tailing him would be a trick even a professional couldn’t manage.

Straw Hat came around the hood of the car. I took a step backward, sensed somebody behind me, half turned, and saw a heavy man in a dark, warm suit and a felt hat. He was silhouetted against that part of the sky which held the last pink glow of sunset, and I could not see his features.

“Sorry we took so long,” Straw Hat said. “Get in the car.”

They both moved closer. I looked across the street. I could barely see the brown-armed girl, still in the window. Her boy friend had gone. She was not looking toward us. A stoop-shouldered musician was trudging by, carrying a trumpet case, watching the sidewalk a yard in front of his toes.

“We can talk right here,” I said.

“We can talk better in the car.” All of Straw Hat’s uncertainties were gone. The toy had been wound up again, the spring tight, the shiny wheels spinning.

“Don’t make us put you in the car. That’s childish, Bryant.”

He opened the door. I got in. He pushed against my shoulder and I slid over into the passenger’s seat. The man in the dark suit got into the back. Straw Hat got behind the wheel.

“We’re going to make a deal,” Straw Hat said.

“Maybe I won’t like the terms.”

“We release the girl. A man is going to commit suicide. He’ll leave a note confessing to three murders. We’ll give you ten thousand cash. In return, you tell us where the paper is. We’ll hold you until we have it, then turn the two of you loose.”

“If I could take your word, it would sound good.”

I tensed as he casually yanked the gun from the shoulder holster. He tossed it in my lap. It slid down between my thighs.

“There’s a guarantee of good faith, Bryant.”

I picked it up. It was an automatic, not a large caliber. It fitted into my hand with vicious efficiency.