Too Darn Hot (22 page)

THIRTY-FOUR

M
arty and I knew that runaways or criminals often kept their own initials when they gave themselves a new name. Lana Tierney. Lucille Turner.

“It’s her,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go get her.”

Marty started the car and I began looking on the beach side of the road for Lion in the Sun. It was hot and humid with a fog cover coming in over the water. We didn’t see a lotta people walking along cause they were probably on the beach. Mr. Andrews had been right. Everybody named their cottages: Paradise Found; Hook Line and Sinker; Coffey Grounds. I wondered what it was that made people name their houses and their cars.

There was plenty of space around each house for privacy. It did look appealing. What would it feel like to wake up and look out at the ocean? But what would you do after a few days of lying on the beach and swimming? It was quiet and peaceful and I knew I’d grow to hate it.

“There it is,” I said.

“Lion in the Sun.”

There was a sandy driveway so Marty turned in but parked the car close to the road. The cottage looked more like a regular house to me. It had dark brown shingles, two stories, and a small screened-in porch. The front, which we couldn’t see, faced the ocean.

We walked up the driveway along the side of the house to the front. She was sitting on the porch like she was waiting for us, but I knew she wasn’t.

“Lucille,” I said.

She glanced up from the book she was reading then almost knocked over her drink when she recognized me and jumped to her feet. Her book dangled from her hand. She was wearing blue shorts and a white blouse, with gym shoes on her feet and the beginnings of a tan.

“What’re you doing here?” she said.

“Looking for you.”

“Why?”

We walked around the porch to the three steps up.

“Can we?” I asked.

“Can I stop you?”

She gestured to two white wooden chairs. We took them. Even though it was shady it was still hot. Even the wind coming off the ocean didn’t help much.

I introduced Lucille to Marty.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Lucille asked. “I’m having a Tom Collins.”

As thirsty as I was, I didn’t want her to leave my sight. “No, thanks.”

“Not right now,” Marty said.

“It’s no trouble,” she said.

I remembered the back door and as she kept asking I thought that might be what was on her mind.

I said, “Lucille, what’re ya doin here?”

“I’m on vacation,” she said.

“Ya didn’t let Mr. Mostel know ya were takin one. How come?”

“Is that what he said?”

“Yeah. He did. Said ya didn’t show up.”

“He’s getting senile, I think. He must’ve forgotten.”

“And how come yer house’s been cleaned out?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

I tapped a Camel from my pack and lit it. “Do we have to play this game? We know ya took a powder from yer job and yer house, okay?”

She bit her lower lip and her eyes got misty.

“Why don’tcha tell us about it,” Marty said.

“There’s nothing to tell. I got tired of working and tired of that place. That’s all there is to it.” She lit up with her Zippo.

“Did ya get tired of yer sister, too?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why’d ya kill her, Lucille?”

Her mouth fell open and her shock looked genuine.

“Claire? Claire’s dead?”

Marty and I kept our traps shut. I listened to the sound of the waves hitting the shore. It had a soothing effect on me.

“Tell me. Is Claire dead?”

“I think ya know the answer to that question, Lucille,” I said. “But yeah, she’s dead. Murdered.”

“Murdered? You’re sure?”

“Absolutely sure.”

“But . . . I don’t understand. Why?”

“What is it ya don’t understand?”

“Why anyone would kill Claire. Do you think it had something to do with Charlie Ladd’s kidnapping?” She killed her cigarette in a small tin can on the table next to her. The hiss told me there was liquid in it.

“First off, Ladd was never kidnapped. Second, Claire went off to make the money drop and was never seen again until she turned up dead.”

“What do you mean, Charlie was never kidnapped?”

“Why don’t
you
tell
us,
” Marty said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Miss Quick, when you came to see me last week, you told me Charlie’d been kidnapped.”

“That’s what we thought then.”

“What changed your minds?”

“Charlie takin a potshot at one of my neighbors.”

“Now I
really
don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ya might not. It all depends.”

“On what?”

“How much ya were let in on the whole deal.”

“What deal?” She lit another cig.

“Let’s put it this way, Lucille. If you didn’t kill Claire, who did?”

“I don’t know.” Her eyes told me she
did
know. “I can’t believe Claire’s dead. I don’t mean I don’t believe you, I mean, she’s my baby sister.”

“Yer baby sister ya no longer talked to?”

“I, I lied about that.”

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Listen, Lucille, Detective Mitchum can take ya back to New York and book ya for yer sister’s murder, ya don’t start comin clean with us.”

“I don’t know anything about Claire’s murder. I don’t.”

“Why’d ya say ya hadn’t talked to her?”

“I told you. I can’t tell you that.” She took a quick glance at her wristwatch, trying to seem casual. It didn’t work. “I think you’d better go now.”

“Is that right?” Marty said. “Suppose I tell ya we ain’t goin until we’re good and ready. Unless ya wanna come with us.”

“All right,” she said. “I’ll come with you.”

I was caught off base by this one and I couldn’t imagine that Marty wasn’t, too.

“You’ll come with us?” I asked.

“Yes. You want to arrest me for Claire’s murder. Let’s do it now.” She stood.

I got it. Someone was about to show that Lucille didn’t want us to see. “But ya said ya didn’t kill her.”

“I lied. I lie about everything. Haven’t you caught on to that yet, Miss Quick?”

“No.”

“Then you’re pretty slow on the uptake.”

Marty said, “Are ya tellin us now that ya killed yer sister?”

“Yes.”

“How?” I asked.

“How?”

“Yeah. A simple enough question. Ya can even lie about it if ya like. But if ya want us to believe ya, ya’d better tell us the truth. So how’d ya kill her, Lucille?”

She stared at us, then at the floorboards. Finally she raised her head. “I stabbed her.”

“Where?”

“In her heart.”

“Ya sure of that?”

“Well, that was the most serious place. I stabbed her everywhere. I was in a frenzy. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Temporary insanity?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“So ya just kept stabbin her all over, huh?”

She brought her hands up to her face and I heard her starting to cry. I didn’t say anything for a while. Neither did Marty.

Finally she dropped her hands. Her face was a mess of mascara. Tears kept running down her cheeks. They were real.

“Nice try,” I said. “Claire was strangled.”

“I told you I lie.”

“Don’t even bother with that one. Ya didn’t kill yer sister. Charlie Ladd did.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t.” She sounded panicked.

“No? Why not?”

“They were engaged.”

I almost laughed. “That hasn’t always been a crime stopper, Lucille.”

Marty said, “You mean he loved her too much to kill her?”

“Something like that.”

“How come yer defendin this guy who raped ya, Lucille? Or did ya lie about that, too?”

“Yes, I lied.”

“Well, I don’t lie. Claire’s dead after deliverin a lotta money to the so-called kidnapper, who I think was Charlie himself. Then Charlie tried to kill me, but I wasn’t home. So he shot my neighbor instead.” I took a flier: “And now yer waitin here for Charlie Ladd to show up.”

Her eyes widened. She twisted around like she was literally looking for a way out. But there wasn’t any. She knew she couldn’t get past Marty to the shore, and she couldn’t get past me to go inside the house. But then she fooled us both and made a run for the part of the porch behind her and jumped the railing.

We stalled for a second out of surprise, then we both hurled ourselves over the railing and made tracks after her. She had a pretty good lead, but I was faster than Marty and caught up with her first. I grabbed her arm but she slipped easily out of my grip and took off again. I didn’t have a choice. I tackled her. We both went down with a thump. I was glad it was in the sand of an empty lot.

Marty appeared next to us. He was breathing hard. I got off her but held on to her collar. Marty cuffed her.

“Okay, that’s it,” he said. “Yer comin back to New York with us.”

“You can’t do this,” she said.

“Watch me.”

We helped her to her feet, then walked toward her house one on each side. She complained the whole way there. We went onto the porch.

“Ya got anything interestin to say?” Marty asked.

“I didn’t kill my sister.”

“That’s not interestin cause ya keep changin yer mind. So which is it, lady? First no, then yes, now no.”

“I think Lucille wanted to get us away from here,” I said.

“Please take these things off me. I’m not going anywhere. Where would I go?”

I gave the nod to Marty.

He shook his head. “She’s a suspect, Faye.”

“But she didn’t kill Claire.”

“Why? Because she says so?”

“Because I don’t think she’s capable of that. Charlie Ladd killed Claire. What was the deal the three of ya had, Lucille?”

“Please take these handcuffs off. They hurt.”

“Yer worried, Marty, cuff her to the chair.”

He unlocked the cuffs but left one on and let her sit down. Then he snapped the other cuff around a slat in the arm of the chair.

“I need a cigarette,” she said.

Her pack was lying on the table next to the arm she was cuffed to. I got one out for her and she took it with her left hand, put it in her mouth. I picked up her Zippo and lit it.

“Where’d ya get this lighter?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Sure ya do. A soldier gave it to ya. Charlie?”

“No.”

“I thought ya didn’t remember.” I didn’t wait for another lie. “Why don’t we move the table to her left side,” I said. I didn’t feature being her servant.

Marty moved it.

“Now ya can be self-sufficient,” I said. She didn’t thank me.

“Whose idea was it, Lucille?” Marty asked.

She laid her glims on him like he was dirt. I hadn’t seen this look on her before.

“Answer him,” I said.

“Why should I?”

“Because he asked.”

“You people make me sick.”

“The feelin is mutual,” I said. “Even so, we wanna know who was the big brain behind it all.”

“What difference does it make?”

“Look, ya don’t get to decide what questions make a difference.”

“Says who?”

“Says us who got ya handcuffed to a chair. I guess ya could say we’re in the driver’s seat,” Marty said.

“Lucille, ya gonna get yer little boy back?” I said.

Her head snapped up like I’d pulled her hair hard. “Who told you that?”

“Never mind who,” Marty said. “Stop askin questions. We’re askin the questions.”

“So ya gettin the boy back?” I said.

“I don’t know.”

“If she was, she ain’t now. Murderesses don’t get to have their kids.”

“I didn’t murder anybody.”

“Yeah, you and Bonnie Parker,” Marty said. “Two peas in a pod.”

“But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Especially Claire.”

“Then we’re back to square one, Lucille.”

“What’s that?”

“Charlie Ladd killed yer sister.”

“I can’t believe that. He wouldn’t hurt her.”

“You of all people know how violent he can get,” I said.

“I told you. I lied about that, too.”

“I don’t believe ya.”

She shrugged.

“But ya were pregnant.”

“Yes, I was.”

“So who was the father?”

“My husband.”

THIRTY-FIVE

Who’s your husband?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“Lady, you’re behind the eight ball,” Marty said. “Ya better start spillin.”

“Is your husband Charlie Ladd?” I said.

“My husband is dead.”

Everyone was silent. I looked out at the sea. I could hear tiny yelps from kids on the beach, others in the water, heads bobbing, parents yelling for their kids not to go out so far. It all looked idyllic, but here I sat with a girl who was a liar and who was telling me her husband was dead.

Lucille reached toward the pocket in her shorts.

“Hey,” Marty said and pointed his gun at her.

“I want a Kleenex.”

“Bring it out slow,” he said.

“Marty, she couldn’t have a gun in there.”

“Ya never know.”

“I don’t own a gun, Detective.” She pulled out a crumpled tissue and wiped the corners of her mouth.

I didn’t know why that was necessary.

“Your husband die in the war?”

“No.”

“That lighter his?”

“Yes.”

“So he was a soldier?”

“Yes.”

“How long’s he been dead?”

“Not long.”

I felt a chill cause I knew.

“Was your husband Private David Cooper?” I said.

She didn’t even blink. “Yes.”

“Holy mackerel,” Marty said.

“I guess things got kinda bungled, didn’t they?” I said.

“Is that how you see murder, Miss Quick? Something bungled.”

“It’s how I see a deal like this one. Who’re ya expectin today, Charlie?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t ya a little annoyed with him for bumpin off Cooper?”

“I don’t believe he did that. He’d have no reason.”

“You were gonna split the ransom in half, weren’t ya? Half to Charlie and Claire and half to you and David,” I said.

“Yes.”

“Half to you and half to Charlie’s even better.”

“Depends how you look at it.”

“Maybe Charlie’s lookin to keep it all himself.”

“What do you mean?” she said.

“I mean when he gets here, maybe he’s plannin to kill ya.”

I could see her face grow paler even though it was lightly tanned.

“You think that, Miss Quick, because you’re assuming Charlie killed Claire and David. I don’t think he did.”

“Then who did?”

“I don’t know. But Charlie’s a decent guy.”

“Very decent,” I said. “If nothin else, he’s swindled his own father.”

“William Ladd can afford it.”

“So that makes it okay?”

“It helps.” She dropped her cig in the can and it did its hissing routine again.

“You’re some hard-boiled dame, ain’t ya,” Marty said.

She said nothing.

“Let’s get back to Charlie. What time’s he comin here?”

She looked at her ticker. “Soon. Half an hour, maybe less.”

“Marty, we hafta hide the car.”

“I’ll find a place.” He stirred his stumps, tore down the steps and around the house.

I looked at Lucille. Funny how things could change. When I first met her, I saw her as innocent and pretty. Now she looked evil and kinda ugly to me.

“You’re the boss of this whole thing, aren’t ya?”

A smile came and went so fast I almost missed it.

“How’d ya let things get so outta hand?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

“I think ya do.”

She shrugged. “I’d like another Tom Collins.”

“Too bad,” I said. “And don’t try anything, Lucille, cause you may not have a gun, but I do.” This time
I
was lying. I hadn’t brought my gun with me. I hated the thing and kept it in a box on a shelf in my closet. Now I wished I had it. Yeah, Woody, I know.

“When Marty comes back, I want ya to show us a place for us to hide.”

“Sure,” she said.

“Don’t tip Charlie to us bein wherever we’re hidin cause I don’t think ya know who yer dealin with.”

“You?” Her mouth worked itself into a sneer.

“Charlie.”

“You’re so off base it’s funny.”

“Keep laughin.”

“Oh, I will.”

“I guess we’ll hafta be somewhere we can keep ya in our sights. I think we’d all better go inside.”

“Should I drag the chair with me?” She held up the palm of her cuffed wrist.

“Marty’ll be back any second. He’s got the keys.”

“Miss Quick? What made you think you could be a private detective?”

The question kinda threw me. I knew people laughed and said mean things when I told them my profession, but nobody’d ever asked me that right out.

“Same as you with Charlie.”

“I don’t see the similarity.”

“Your instincts tell ya that he’s innocent of any crime, right?”

“Yes.”

“I followed my instincts about bein a PI.”

“It’s hardly the same. Charlie loves me and I love him.”

That knocked me into the next week.

Marty clipped up the stairs. “Got it stashed.”

“Unlock the cuff. We need to go inside and find a hidin place.”

He did and we did. Marty kept his gun on Lucille the whole time. I looked around. The front windows faced the beach. It was furnished in white wicker with colorful pillows. There was a filled bookcase behind the sofa. Another time I’d be looking through the titles.

“What’s this?” Marty asked.

“A closet,” Lucille said.

He opened it and we could see that there was plenty of room for us.

“Okay. Yer gonna sit right there on the sofa and we’re gonna be in the closet. We’ll be able to hear and see everything.”

“What if he wants a drink?”

“Get him one.”

“I don’t see why you have to hide.”

“Cause maybe he’ll tell ya what he’s done. Don’t try to stop him, Lucille. It’ll go easier for ya if ya cooperate.”

“You’ve seen too many movies,” she said.

I wondered if that was true.

We all heard it at the same time. A car was pulling up the sandy drive; it stopped next to the porch. Marty and I scrambled to the closet and pulled the door almost closed. I whispered, “Lucille told me she’s in love with Charlie.” His eyes got big.

I put my finger from the bottom of my nose to my chin across my lips.

“Hey, Lucille. Anyone home?”

“In here.”

We heard him bound up the steps, open and close the screen door.

“That’s a nice welcome,” he said. “Can’t even bother to get up and come greet me.”

He was wearing civilian clothes and carrying the bag that William Ladd had used for the money. The one Claire carried to Charlie.

“I stubbed my toe,” she said.

“Poor baby. Let me see it.” He put the bag on the floor.

“Later,” she said. “Give me a kiss.”

He sat down next to her and they kissed. Long and passionate. She pulled away. “Charlie, I want to ask you something.”

“Sure.”

“What happened to Claire?”

“Ah, that was tragic.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was all jumpy when she met me with the money, which was understandable. Then she said she wanted to take a walk. I could kick myself, but I was tired and didn’t want to go. So she went alone.”

Lucille was looking at him with an expression of disbelief. But Charlie was so wrapped up in his story he didn’t seem to notice.

“And she didn’t come back, and she didn’t come back. I was frantic, but I couldn’t call the police. I didn’t sleep all night. The next day I heard what’d happened. I couldn’t believe it. I hate to say it, but it’s made things a lot easier for us.”

“You
should
hate to say it. Claire was my sister.”

“I know, baby. But you didn’t seem to have any qualms about telling her about us.”

“How do you know? I never got the chance.”

“You were willing. I guess it never occurred to you that she might give us trouble, threaten to turn us in.”

“And if she did?”

“I thought we’d play it by ear.”

“No, seriously, Charlie. What if she’d done that? What would we have done?”

“I don’t know. Why’re you asking me all these questions? I need a drink.”

She started to get up, then stopped. “Oh, my toe.”

“I’ll get it. Where’s the makings?”

“In the kitchen through there.”

It was clear he’d never been in this house before. He got up and headed where she’d pointed. Lucille looked strange, still on the fence. She didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Good.

When he came back, he said, “Thought any more about where we should go?” He took a long swallow of his drink, then put it on the coffee table. “Got any smokes? I ran out.”

“In that,” she said.

There was a bamboo box on the table. Charlie took a cigarette from it and lit it with his Zippo. “So have you thought about where to go?”

“Let’s talk about David,” she said.

“David? Why?”

“He
was
my husband.”

“And he never should’ve been.”

“I thought you liked David.”

“I thought I did, too. Then I found out he was a kike.”

“What?”

“A heeb. You didn’t know, did you? Cooper wasn’t his real name. It was Kupfermann. The guy was a Jew, Lucille.”

“So?”

“A Jew. Didn’t you hear me?”

“I heard you. He was a Jew and you killed him because of it?”

“It was an accident. He let slip that he was a Jew bastard and we got into some name-calling. Then he pushed me and I pushed him back and you know how those things go.”

“No. I don’t know how those things go. Tell me.”

“One thing led to another. I didn’t mean to kill him, but I have to tell you the truth. I’m not sorry. One less sheeny in the world doesn’t break my heart.”

“And Claire?”

“I told ya what happened to Claire. You’re getting me mad, Lucille. Hey, let me show you the money.”

He reached down, lifted the bag, and put it on the coffee table. Then he stood. Before he undid the clasps I told Marty to get ready.

As Charlie reached into the bag and pulled out a gun, we crashed into the room and Marty yelled, “Freeze.”

Charlie swiveled around and put his hands in the air, the gun pointing toward the ceiling. “What’s this?”

“This is Detective Mitchum from the New York Police Department and Faye Quick, a private detective. Say hello, Charlie.”

“Put the gun on the floor and kick it over to me,” Marty said. “And do it slow.”

He lowered his gun arm slowly and kept going till the piece was on the floor. Then he kicked it over near us. I picked it up.

“You bitch,” he said to Lucille.

“You killer,” she said. “This was supposed to be about money.”

“And how did you think we were going to work things out with Claire and David? Claire was in love with me and that hymie was married to you. You oughta be thanking me for resolving this thing, not siccing the cops on me.”

“He’s right, Lucille. Ya should be thankin the guy. At least he brought the money. Let’s see how much he’s still got. Kick the bag over, Charlie.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Ya don’t hafta,” I said.

Marty gave me a quick, confused look.

“Get up and go over to the window.”

“Ya heard her, bub.”

“Why?”

“Just do it,” Marty said.

Charlie sighed and walked around the coffee table. When he got even with me, he reached out and grabbed me by the throat, dragging me backward and holding me like a shield between him and Marty. His arm stayed tight around my throat.

“Give me the gun or I’ll crush her windpipe.”

Marty held the gun on him. “Don’t be a jerk, Ladd. This place is surrounded.”

I couldn’t see Charlie’s face so I didn’t know whether he believed Marty or not.

“Sure it is.”

“It is,” Lucille said.

“I don’t believe it.”

Lucille said, “Then believe this.” And she shot him in the back.

His arm slipped from my neck and slid down me as he started his fall. I turned and watched him crumple to the floor.

He wasn’t quite dead. He managed a last sentence. “We could’ve had it all, Lucille.” And followed that with a whoosh which turned out to be his last breath.

Lucille sat on the couch, the gun in her lap. I walked over and picked up Charlie’s bag. I turned it upside down and nothing fell out. No surprise to me, but I could see it was to Lucille.

“Just in case you had any second thoughts about killin this guy. And by the way, I thought ya didn’t have a gun.”

“I lied,” she said.