You Never Know With Women (10 page)

“What did you do with it?” she asked, also casually.

This was where I’d come in.

“Yeah, that’s what you said before. You needn’t worry about the compact. That’s been taken care of. Finish your story. Why did he want it?”

“Why do you think I ratted on Gorman?” she returned and surveyed me with her alert, cool eyes.

“You didn’t want him to torture me,” I said. “Remember?”

She laughed: the sound jeered at me.

“Guess again.”

“You thought Gorman would gyp you out of your share. You knew Parker was screwy, and you didn’t put it past him after they had the compact to twist your pretty neck and stick you head first in the lily pond.”

Her lapis-lazuli eyes brooded.

“Go on.”

“You also thought a third share wasn’t as good as a half share, and when I turned up you thought I was the kind of guy you could do things with. And when I came back with the yarn that the compact had gone up in smoke, you were sure I was the guy for you.”

She pushed her chest out at me.

“I have information to sell. It’ll cost you a half share of whatever you get out of Brett if you want to buy it.”

I got up, yawned.

“Come on, kid, we’re going to bed. We’ve talked enough for tonight. I’ll show you where we’ll lay our weary heads.”

Alarm and doubt flickered into her eyes.

“Don’t you want my information?” she asked sharply.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, took her arm and led her across to the bedroom. “Maybe I can do without your help.”

“No, you can’t,” she said, pulling away. “It’s no good thinking you can. The compact means nothing to anyone unless they know what I know.”

“So you say,” I said, sitting on the bed. “But I have an inquiring mind. I was a dick once. It’s my business to find out things, and you’d be surprised at the things I have found out.”

She faced me; two angry red spots of colour showed on her cheeks. She was no longer calm and alert: she was rattled.

“I want a half share—” she began, but I pulled her down on the bed.

“Don’t go shrill on me, sweetheart,” I said. “I’m not interested in business any more tonight. I want a little fun.”

“You’re not getting it from me!” she said through her clenched teeth and tried to break my hold, but she wasn’t the only one with steel in her wrists. “Let me go!” she went on furiously. “I’ll scream!”

“Go ahead,” I said, gripping her arms. “What’s a scream or two in this joint? Someone’s always screaming here: it’s part of the set-up. Scream as much as you like if you want to.”

“Let me go – damn you!”

She wrenched an arm free and I collected a punch in the jaw that jerked my head back. She kicked my shin and thumped my sore neck with her clenched fist.

I wasn’t feeling in a gentle mood. I’d been punched around plenty during the past twenty-four hours. I was supposed to be a tough guy, but up to now everyone had been using me as a door-scraper. It was time I showed the cloven hoof.

“That’s how it is,” I said, leaning over her. “I’ve been a sucker long enough. Now it’s your turn, blue-eyes, to be pushed around, and I hope you’ll like it.”

“You beast!” she panted, struggled up and kicked at me.

I grabbed her. She tried to bite, but she didn’t try very hard. After a while her arms slid around my neck and she held on like she was scared of losing me. Her lips parted against mine. Her eyes were shining like two blue stars.

Like I said: women are funny animals.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE CLANG of the telephone clapper brought me upright in bed. Another jackrabbit popped out of the pillows beside me.

“No fire,” I said. “Only the telephone. Did it scare you?”

Veda pulled away from my clutch.

“Not as much as it seems to have scared you,” she retorted, and as the telephone was at her side of the bed she reached for it.

I put an arm across her chest, flattened her into the pillows.

“I’ll take it. You rest yourself.”

I had to lean on her to reach the receiver, so I leaned on her.

“You have the manners of a hog,” she gasped, “and that’s insulting the hog.”

I smiled down into fierce blue eyes, lifted the receiver off its prong.

“I’m at my best with cripples and very, very old ladies,” I assured her. Into the ‘phone I yawned a hello.

Casy’s voice barked in my ear.

“Come on down, Floyd. The lid’s aching to fly off this can, but I’m holding it on till you get here.”

“What can?” I said. “And don’t shout, Mick, my nerves are jangling.” They were, too. I felt I could duck under a duck and not ruffle its feathers.

Casy let out a bellow.

“To hell with your nerves. Come on down and shake the ants outs your pants. Give you five minutes,” and he hung up.

I replaced the receiver gently, ran my fingers through my hair and looked down at the small pale face half buried in the pillows. Most dames would have looked a little wilted, but Veda didn’t. She still looked good enough to eat.

“Hello?” I said. “Remember me?”

“If I don’t my bruises will,” she returned tartly. “Get off, you big oaf. You’re crushing the life out of me.”

“Swell death,” I said, heaved myself out of bed, stretched, yawned, and made a jump for the bottle. “Like a little of the dog that bit you?”

“No, thank you.” She raised herself up on her elbow. “Who was that?”

“Casy. I have to go down. I’ll have some coffee sent up for you.”

“What’s he want?” Her tone was sharp.

“He didn’t say. Maybe he’s lonely.” I found my wristwatch amongst the junk I’d dumped on the dressing-table. It was twenty minutes past eleven. “Hey! We’ve slept away most of the morning!”

“Isn’t that what mornings are for?” she asked and curled down in the bed again.

I took another slug at the bottle before taking a shower. Ten minutes late I entered Casy’s office. I was all in one piece, but my nerves still twittered and my neck felt it’d been boffed with a meat axe.

Casy was standing by the window, a cigar in his teeth, his hands clasped behind his back. There was a sullen expression in his eyes and the corners of his mouth were down.

A short, bland-looking man sat on the edge of the most uncomfortable chair in the room and smiled at the black hat resting on his knees. Everything about him was neat his hair, his clothes, his shave and his shoes. His smile was the neatest of them all.

Casy grunted as I came in.

“You’ve taken your time. This is O’Readen, Chief of Police.” I got ready to duck, but the bland-faced man jumped up hurriedly and held out his hand.

“Glad to know you, Mr. Jackson,” he said; even his handshake was neat. “Mighty glad to know you.”

Usually when they meet me Chiefs of Police start tearing up the floor-boards to hunt out a skunk, and this reception surprised me.

“I’m glad to have you know me,” I said and disentangled my hand. I put it in my pocket for safe keeping.

Casy stamped over to his desk and sat down.

“Park yourself, Floyd,” he said and pulled at his short, thick nose. He stared at O’Readen with sullen anger. “Tell him,” he barked.

O’Readen smiled at nobody in particular.

“A little trouble broke out on Ocean Rise last night,” he said. He seemed to be confiding the news to his hat, but I didn’t miss a word. “The San Luis Beach Homicide Bureau called me this morning and asked for my co-operation. An attempt was made to open the safe belonging to Lindsay Brett and two guards were killed.”

“What’s this?” I asked Casy. “A subscription for their wreaths or something?”

“O’Readen is a good friend of mine.” Casy glared at O’Readen as if he could eat him. “He takes care of my headaches. It’s part of his job.”

O’Readen continued to smile, but the edges of the smile were a little frayed.

“I do what I can,” he explained to his hat; then in case he hadn’t made himself plain, he added, “What little I can do, I do.”

I selected an armchair, folded myself down in it and set fire to a cigarette. This was the kind of Police Chief I liked. “And what he does for me,” Casy continued grimly, “he’ll do for you. Right, O’Readen?”

The smile wobbled, but came through.

“That’s why I’m here, Mr. Jackson,” O’Readen said. “You see, Redfern — you know Lieutenant Redfern?”

I said I knew Redfern.

“Yes.” O’Readen shook his head. “Well, Redfern has been on to me. He’s connecting you with the robbery at Brett’s place.”

I didn’t jump more than a foot. I knew Redfern was smart, but not all that smart. I wondered if Gorman had turned me in.

“Why pick on me?” I said after the silence had become embarrassing.

“The guards at Brett’s place keep a log,” O’Readen explained apologetically. “It seems you and another man drove up to Brett’s house yesterday morning. You were both reported in the log as suspicious characters. There’s a comprehensive description of you. Redfern says he recognizes you by the tie you wore. He says you’re the only character he knows who wears horses’ heads on your ties.”

“There must be others,” I pointed out.

“Yes, but the rest of the description would convince a jury, he tells me. These guards were police trained. They didn’t miss much.”

I looked over at Casy.

“Were you up there yesterday morning?” he asked.

“Sure.”

O’Readen’s smile went a little limp.

“Brett’s got a lot of influence,” he said uneasily. “He arrived back this morning and is yelling for blood.”

“To hell with Brett!” Casy snapped. “Now listen; Jackson was here last night. He arrived around seven-thirty and he played poker until two o’clock in the morning. He played with me and Joe and you, O’Readen.”

The smile slipped a foot. O’Readen couldn’t even jack it into place.

“I don’t think he played with me,” he said gently, like he was tip-toeing across a floor. “I’m not much of a poker player.”

“That’s right; you’re a lousy player. He took fifty dollars off you.”

I flicked ash all over the carpet. It was a pretty nice feeling to know I played poker with a Chief of Police: a nice, safe feeling.

“This is a murder charge,” O’Readen said painfully. “Redfern could stick a knife into me. You know I’d help if I could, but I wouldn’t want him to know I play poker here.”

Casy chewed his cigar: anger and contempt brooded in his eyes.

“You and me and Joe and Jackson played poker here last night from seven-thirty until two,” he said savagely. “What the hell do you think I pay you for? I don’t give a damn if Redfern sticks a knife into you. He can stick a harpoon into you for all I care. That’s our story and you’re stuck with it. Now get the hell out of here and earn some of that dough I’m putting in your bank.”

O’Readen got up, smiled at his hat again. His face was the colour of a fish’s belly and he looked as if he were getting over a long and painful illness.

“Well, if that’s how you feel,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“You’ll do better than that, you’ll do what I tell you,” Casy snarled. His voice sounded like a buzz-saw tearing into a wood knot.

We watched O’Readen all the way across the room to the door. He didn’t look back and walked a little flatfooted. When the door closed, Casy spat viciously into the brass spittoon by the desk.

“I pay that punk a hundred bucks a week to keep me in the clear, and every time I want him to take care of anything he squawks.”

“Nice work, Mick,” I said admiringly. “I didn’t know you owned the town. You’ve pulled me out of a hole bigger than the one you were in. That makes us quits.”

“Like hell it does,” he said, but his face brightened. “Listen, soldier, when you pulled me out of my hole you didn’t know me from a dog’s flea. That’s what makes what you did something, and I ain’t forgetting it.”

I stubbed out my cigarette, lit another.

“And please yourself what you tell me,” Casy went on, “but if you want to tell me, now’s the time.”

I didn’t hesitate. I could trust Casy and he might be useful. “I was up there last night,” I said. “It’s a cockeyed yarn: you’d better hear it.”

I took him through the story from Gorman’s proposition to the time Veda and I had come to Santa Medina last night: He sat smoking; his frown deepened as the story unfolded. Even to me it sounded as phoney as O’Readen’s smile.

“That’s it,” I concluded. “Make what you like of it, but I smell money somewhere in all this and I mean to be at the head of the queue.”

“Not in my line,” he said. “It’s crazy. But you watch out. Brett’s big time. You be careful how you monkey with him. I’ll take care of Gorman and Parker if you like.”

“No. You’re doing all I want you to do right now. I can’t do a thing until I get this compact or whatever it is. The frail upstairs says she knows what it’s all about.” I shook my head thoughtfully. “I don’t know what to make of her, Mick. She’s an enigma.”

“That’s your lookout. You were always a sucker for a woman. Anything I can do?”

I grinned at him.

“I’m going over to San Luis Beach. I want to get some clothes for one thing. I want to see Redfern too. Will O’Readen play?”

“Sure he’ll play. You heard what I told him. Redfern won’t bust your alibi.”

“That’s fine. I’ll go over there and iron things out with him and maybe have a look around. Can I borrow a car?”

Casy nodded.

“Then there’s the frail upstairs. She’d better stay put until I come back. I don’t want her to run out on me. Can you get a guy to keep an eye on her?”

“Joe can do it. He ain’t doing anything.” Casy raised his voice and bawled for Joe.

“I want her to stay right where she is. I’ll lock her in, but a lock mightn’t keep her there if she takes it into her head to take a powder. If Joe can keep an eye on her . . .”

Joe came in.

“Miss Rux is to stay where she is until Jackson’s say-so,” Casy told him. “You’re to see she stays.”

Joe gave a soft grunt. Dismay showed in his eyes, but he was well trained.

“Check,” he said.

“And watch her, pally,” I told him. “She’s as tricky as a sackful of rattlesnakes. Every time she snaps her garters some guy comes arunning.”

“If she snaps anything at me I’ll snap right back,” Joe said with a cold little grin.