The Ace of Spades - Dell Shannon (16 page)

"Well, my God," said Rhodes, "but it's
not common sense to walk into the tiger cage without a whip and a
kitchen chair."

"How right you are," said Hackett. "That
Luis doesn't say. Just that it's a good idea to try other methods
first, and if you never move a step without the whip, you never have
to think of any other way of doing it."

"I see," said Rhodes thoughtfully.

Mendoza came up, looking slightly more presentable,
looked at the rye the waiter had left for him and said, "I
shouldn't have that, I've had two drinks already this morning—
unprecedented, and you know what it does to me."

"I guess you've had enough of a workout already
you won't be spoiling for another fight in the next half hour,"
said Hackett. "Live dangerously for once, drink it."

Mendoza did, said, "Ah, coffee, that's better.
Did you get me some aspirin?"

Hackett gave him one and said Callaghan extended
sympathy but was pleased to hear some of those boys from the Elite
could be arrested for something, even common assault. He'd go right
down to look them over, and their places of residence, and it might
just be they could eventually be charged with something more, which
would be very useful.

"They won't be charged with assaulting me, not
by name anyway," said Mendoza. “I'm not appearing in this
round. If there is any connection with this Domokous thing I don't
want them to know I know it. Not that I know much, and God knows
that."

"I want to hear about this little adventure.
What took you down there?"

"Take too long to tell— it's very complicated:
briefly, I got some names from Pat, I went to do some sniffing around
myself, and while I had my mind on the names I inadvertently gave
these boys the impression I was doing something else they didn't like
. . . yes, suggestive in a way, and I want to hear what Pat thinks.
But meantime— " He told the waiter to bring him anything
edible and more coffee
inmediatamente
.

"Rhodes— this is Sergeant Rhodes? What with
one thing and another we don't seem to have been introduced— "

"Yes, sir, I'm Rhodes."

"I must be losing my grip, come to think— you
couldn't answer questions without your records, I don't suppose you
remember much about it offhand. Car theft. Miss Alison Weir, a week
ago last Sunday, and you found the car and returned it a week ago
yesterday."

"Miss Weir— oh, yes, sir, I do remember. I
mean, I'd better explain, I know Landers in your office, you see, and
he— that is— Miss Weir's a friend of yours, isn't she, and I
happened to notice the name— "

"I see," said Mendoza. "And they say
women are the gossips. Well, I want to hear everything you know about
that business. Pretend I don't know anything about it— I don't,
much— and give me all you remember, we can check your records
later."

"Well," said Rhodes blankly. "Well, it
was kind of an ordinary thing, Lieutenant. Probably kids— you know
how much of that sort of thing we get. The car was pinched from
Exposition Park that Sunday afternoon, I heard later Miss Weir and a
friend of hers'd been to some art show at the County Museum— "

"
¡Quid!
Now that I'd forgotten, if I ever heard it. The County Museum— what
the hell has it got to do with this? A dignified, dreary spot like
that— "

"Oh, I don't know, I kind of like museums,"
said Hackett. "But don't look at me for the answer. This much
I'll contribute— Driscoll has gone there twice in the last two
days. I don't know why, the tail was too far behind and lost him
inside."

Mendoza laid down his fork and put a hand to his
temple. "I'm in no condition to be given shocks, Arturo. And
I'll never, by God, make any more jokes about implausibly complicated
detective fiction. I wonder what kind of exhibitions they've got on
at the moment. Anything in the nature of nymphs and dolphins?"

"You've let nymphs and dolphins seduce you away
from any solid facts in this thing— the few we've got," said
Hackett. "I don't think they've got a damn thing to do with it."

"I won't argue, I'm out of ammunition. Go on,
Rhodes. What time and where from, exactly?"

Rhodes, who had stopped eating to follow this
exchange with a furrowed brow, said, "What'? Oh, the car— why,
it was early afternoon when Miss Weir left it, I seem to remember—
and I think the call to the precinct went through about five o'clock.
You know those little narrow winding streets all round the park
buildings— it was somewhere along the one goes in front of the main
museum building, a block or so down. I figured it afterward, Sunday,
you know, a public park with no admission fee— it was probably some
teenagers, just decided to take a joy ride. You get an awful lot of
that. I don't know what you think, sir, but I put it down to people
not being at home with their kids more, and maybe some of this
progressive education. Because a lot of 'em we pick up, they're not
what you'd call delinquents— it's just, my God, they don't seem to
know any better, don't see any reason at all why they shouldn't take
anything sitting around loose, if they've got a yen for it at the
moment. You know? And what with the big areas public schools take in,
there's bound to be a few real delinquents in a lot of them, and
quite a few kids from ordinary respectable homes pick up little
tricks, like how to do without an ignition key."

"Yes, all that I grant you. But most kids, this
sort or that, go for something new and classy."

"Well, not always," said Rhodes. "Some
of 'em who go in for dragracing— But most of what we get from kids
is just picking up anything handy to ride around in a few hours.
Another thing that comes into it is taking a dare. My God, these
kids!— it makes you wonder. I mean, one of 'em says, Bet you
haven't got the nerve to swipe a car, and the other one's ashamed to
chicken out. And mind you, both of 'em might be from respectable
homes, raised to know better."

"Also true," said Mendoza patiently, "but
evidently whoever took Miss Weir's car kept it longer than a couple
of hours. Where and when did it turn up?"

"I don't remember the exact address, sir, but
it's in the records. It was that Thursday, about noon, around there—
a fellow called the local precinct to report this car'd been sitting
out in front of his house almost two days. So the boys went and
checked, and of course it was on the hot list so they brought it into
the headquarters garage. It was a new tract street somewhere out in
Compton, I think, and the fellow said he'd first noticed it when he
left for work on Wednesday morning, early."

"Mmh. Abandoned there late Tuesday night. Did
your boys go over it?"

"Well, sure," said Rhodes. "The way we
usually do, you know— I mean, we didn't tear it apart looking, it's
run-of-the-mill, stuff like that. We looked for prints on the wheel
and so on, in case we could match them up to somebody in Records. I
seem to remember that everything a driver'd touch had been wiped
clean."

"Which does not," said Mendoza, "look
like a bunch of kids out for a joy ride."

"Well, I guess not," admitted Rhodes. "But
a pro— I mean, there isn't anything in hopping shorts unless you
keep them, fake up new plates and so on, and sell them. We get a
certain amount of that, of course. But a thing like this— car used
a little while and then abandoned— it's practically always kids."

"Unless it's a getaway of some kind," said
Mendoza. "Somebody on the run in a hurry, maybe his own car
stalled or— "

"Somehow," said Hackett, "I got the
feeling that if there'd been a job pulled at the County Museum— one
of their Rembrandts missing, or an Egyptian mummy maybe, or the
dinosaur skeleton— — there'd have been a line or two about it in
the papers. They might even have called in the police."

"All right, all right," said Mendoza. "I
can do without the sarcasm. You didn't find anything in the car,
nothing to point to who'd taken it. What about the mileage? Any way
to check?"

"Well, it didn't seem very important,
Lieutenant— I mean, why should we? I suppose there'd have been a
check of some approximate kind, if there's a garage record on the
doorpost as usual, for oil changes, and if Miss Weir could say what
it was when the car was taken— "

"Which is very doubtful. Yes. And it's past
praying for now, anyway. Damn. And what could it have told us?
Nothing."

"Sir," Rhodes had been looking uneasy. "I
don't know what this is all about, but if there's something more to
that business than just— I mean, something important— maybe you
ought to— or maybe you know— "

"That little thing she found, yes," nodded
Mendoza. "I know. I don't know how it ties in, or what it means,
but it seems to mean something, because somebody seems to be anxious
to have it back. And to be pretty sure it was lost in the car."

Rhodes looked uneasier than ever. "My God, do
you think it was something to do with that? Miss Weir called in—
twice— and I thought— I told her— "

"Yes, and you were quite justified,"
Mendoza soothed him. "Don't look so worried. Exactly the kind of
thing a nervous, scatterbrained female might think up. Persecution—
or wishful thinking, I suppose the head-doctors would say— big bad
man pursuing her. But there are females and females, and as it
happens Miss Weir is quite a level-headed one ordinarily, and not
given to seeing ghosts."

"Well, my God, I'm sorry, sir, I never— "

"No, not your fault, don't apologize, you
couldn't know that, and I don't say it's an absolutely sure thing
even now. I may be seeing ghosts. Maybe it was just kids broke into
the garage, random mischief. But, damn it, unless the car had
something to do with it, how has Alison got into this thing? That
mysterious female out at the Beverly-Hilton— and what has she got
to do with Skyros? .... Wait a minute. Have I had an inspiration? I
wonder . . . Well, one thing I must do first is see her— Alison, I
mean— and get the key to her mailbox. Because it's fifty to one
that French maid left a note in it."

"Now that never occurred to me," admitted
Hackett. "But it's not the first thing you're going to do,
chico
, you're going to
visit a doctor and get some stitches in that thing."

"Who's the lieutenant here? Listen, Rhodes, you
copy down all your records about that business and send them up to my
office, O.K.? Thanks very much. And Art, you keep after Driscoll—
that boy I want to have a talk with, and some straight answers from!
And I'll check up on the note. And all right, Auntie dear, I'll go
and get stitched up first."

Mendoza grimaced as he got up. "Damn it, I kept
telling myself I should have sent you or one of the boys instead, on
that little jaunt this morning. I'm out of condition for that sort of
thing."

"So the exercise was
probably good for you," said Hackett. "Maybe I shouldn't
have ambitions to be a lieutenant, it's a sedentary job. Come on,
grandpa, you can lean on me."

* * *

Mendoza saw a doctor and had eleven stitches taken in
his hand, went home and took a bath and changed into a whole suit and
a clean shirt. He then discovered that it was impossible to knot his
tie with one hand and the tips of two fingers on the other, did some
cursing, investigated that floor of the apartment to see who else was
home, and met Mrs. Bryson just going out. She laid down her purse and
gloves on the bottom step, exclaimed over the bandage, and made a
firm nautical square knot for him, explaining ingenuously that she
had a nephew in the Navy, as he knew. Getting back into the car,
Mendoza felt it uneasily and hoped he wouldn't have to get her to
untie it for him when he came home.

He stopped at Alison's school on Sunset on his way
downtown, and was surprised to find it closed. No class, no sign on
the door— nobody there, and the door locked. He felt ridiculously
uneasy over that, and sought the nearest public phone to call her
apartment. He let the phone ring a dozen times, but got no answer.
The school closed on a Friday, a weekday, and if she was ill she'd be
home. Unreasonably he felt annoyed with Alison: where was she, just
when he wanted her?

Well, it couldn't be helped; he'd check back later.
He went on downtown, and straight up to Callaghan's office at
headquarters. Callaghan wasn't there, and he fumed about that; hung
around for ten minutes or so, and was just about to go down to his
own office when Callaghan came in. He regarded Mendoza fondly,
shepherded him into the inner office and installed him in the one
comfortable chair.

"Once in awhile you really earn your keep around
here, Luis. You've been real helpful today— you've got no idea how
helpful. I think those four thugs you ran into are all pushers, it
gave us an excuse to get a warrant to go through that Elite joint,
and we came across quite a little cache of stuff— including about a
thousand made-up reefers— in a back room. And a few decks on
Prettyman and one of the others."

"Oh, Prettyman was one of them, was he? We
weren't formally introduced."

"The big fellow in the green shirt was
Prettyman. I understand you're acting coy, don't want to show in the
business by being named victim of assault. Well, that's O.K., we got
these two, Prettyman and Flores, charged with unlawful possession,
and we can run through the assault on the others with a John Doe if
the judge co-operates. Everybody else at the Elite had been warned by
the time we got there, of course— not a soul in the place, more's
the pity .... And now I'd like to hear a blow-by-blow account of how
you got into the hassle in the first place."