42 Days For Murder

Chapter Fifteen

The three of us drove out to the Three C Club and I parked in the shadow beyond it and sent Lester in to see what he could see. He came out, giggling, and said:

“She’s in there with Crandall and the two guards. And Joey’s there.”

“Drunk?”

“Very. He’s at the bar, sitting on the edge of it. He’s got a Santa Claus beard on and he’s singing Coming Round the Mountain. And telling everybody that the song is written about his mountain.”

This was a new high, even for Joey. I said: “Did you see Rucci?”

“He was trying to get Joey to climb down from the bar. Joey’s got a lot of money, though, and I guess Mr. Rucci doesn’t want to make him mad so he’ll go someplace else. Every now and then Joey shouts ‘Fire in the head’ and everybody goes to the bar and has a drink. Joey pays for them.”

This was enough to get Wendel’s mind off his troubles, even if only temporarily. He asked curiously:

“What does ‘Fire in the head’ mean?”

“That’s a term hard rock miners use,” I said. “They put powder in the face of the cutting. I mean, down in the shaft they’re drilling.”

He looked bewildered and I explained: “They tunnel a shaft into the rock. Then they bore holes in the face of it and fill them with powder or dynamite. Then they light the fuses on these shots and yell ‘Fire in the head’ and everybody in the shaft runs like hell so they’ll be away when the explosion comes. Do you see now?”

He said: “Frankly, I don’t. Possibly I’m stupid.”

I didn’t give him any argument on the last. I said: “Well, when somebody shouts ‘Fire in the head’ in a bar, everybody in the place runs up to get a drink. It’s free, you see. Some wit saw the rush and thought of the mining term... or maybe it was the other way around. Anyway, it’s an old saying and everybody out here knows what it means.”

Lester said: “That’s very interesting,” and Wendel said: “I’m afraid I have no sense of humor.”

I said nothing; there was no proper answer.

We cruised around until twelve, then went to a hole in the wall and ate. I called the station and tried to get Kirby, but he’d gone home. I tried the Sheriff’s office for Macintosh and got the same answer. It didn’t make a great deal of difference; I just wanted to call in so they’d know things were moving along. I had no intention of telling them the plan I’d made for Wendell and myself.

We went back to the Three C then and Lester went in and out and reported that Joey was bogged down in a booth, with Rucci and two men he hadn’t seen before. That Joey was drunk but no drunker. I said: “Hell! That man can’t get any drunker. There’s such a thing as a saturation point.” And then, because thinking I’d seen Joey drive by me there in Reno still bothered me, I asked Wendel: “Did you tell me Joey went to Los Angeles?”

“Why yes. He called me at least once a day from there. I judged he wasn’t drinking, either.”

Lester said the Wendel party showed signs of leaving so we drove back and past where Crandall lived. I parked in the shadow beyond the house and well away from it, and I said to Lester: “Now you sit here in the car and blow the horn if a police car comes by and stops. Then get out and run like hell. Not down the street; take off across lots. They can’t catch you then as easily.”

“Why can’t I come with you, Shean?”

“I’m going to have trouble enough looking after myself and Mr. Wendel, and I can’t take the extra chances, kid.” I realized how this would make him feel and switched the meaning with: “I can’t take chances with a bunch of cops stopping our get-away. You’ve got to stay here and give me warning.”

He said seriously: “Oh yes! The lookout man. Should I blow the horn in any sequence?”

I didn’t get it. I repeated ‘sequence’ and he said: “Why of course. You know. Like four times or three times. For the signal, you know.”

I said: “Say three times. Then run.” I didn’t have any idea of police coming but I didn’t want the kid tagging along and tripping over his shoe laces. He was blind as a bat in day time and at night he’s even worse. I’d have had to lead him by the hand, as though he were a little child.

A big sedan came down the street and turned into the Crandall drive and stopped in front of the door. We watched more lights flick on, all over the house and I said:

“Now I’m going to do some guessing. It’s a cinch the bedrooms will be on the second floor. The best, which would be the master’s bedroom, will be in the front. There’s two bedrooms in the front and that will mean that your wife, who’s the honored guest, will have one and our Mr. Crandall will have the second. How’s that for reasoning?”

Wendel said: “It seems logical.”

Lester said: “But which is the first and which is the second?”

“That’s elementary. Mrs. Wendel is a guest. She’ll naturally go to bed first, because Crandall will wander around and see that everything’s okey before he tucks in. In common politeness he’d stay up until she went to bed. Simple?”

Lester said, with admiration: “That’s pure deduction.”

Wendell said: “Humph!”

The upstairs light on the left of the house snapped on-first. We watched it. Ten minutes afterward it went out. A few minutes later the right hand one went on in turn. We watched that. In five minutes it went out. I said: “Check and double check. Mrs. Wendel would put cold cream on her face to take off the make-up. That would take a little while. Crandall would just take off his clothes and pile in bed. It proves my theory.”

I was just guessing but it sounded reasonable, even to myself. And Lester thought I was the second Sherlock Holmes and I didn’t want to disappoint him. God knows I hadn’t shown any brilliance in the case up to that time and I thought he was entitled to something that would back up his blind faith. I looked at Wendel in what little light the dash lamp gave and his face looked drawn and worried but he didn’t seem afraid. I said:

“Now look, mister. You’re not going to crack up on me in there, are you? I’m going first and see that everything’s clear, but I want you right behind me. I don’t want to look for you and find you where you don’t belong.”

He smiled a little, said: “I want to see my wife. I’d do worse than this, Mr. Connell. Don’t worry.”

Lester asked: “What are you going to do about the guards?”

“They’ll probably be in bed. If one of them sits up it’ll be in front. We’ll wait; we can tell by the lights.”

There was a light in the front room but it was turned off about then. I said: “The chances are somebody sleeps in the front room on a couch or something. Or maybe the two bozos just took a last drink. It doesn’t make any difference; we’re not going in through the front.”

The house was dark and I looked at my watch and said: “In half an hour,” and opened the glove compartment and took out a bottle. I passed it to Wendel and he shook his head... and I took his share. The more I thought of this house-breaking idea the screwier it seemed to me. My feet were getting colder than Wendel’s must have been.

The half hour finally passed and it didn’t seem like more than six. Waiting for something when you’re afraid makes time drag. But the time came and I climbed out and said: “Come on,” to Wendel.

He followed me and I told Lester to remember what he was to do and led the way toward the house. As soon as we got where Lester couldn’t hear me I kept my voice low and said to Wendel:

“Now listen and for Christ’s sake remember it. If there’s action it’s likely to come in a bunch. If anybody shoots at us, you drop down on your face and get as close to the floor as you can. Don’t move, no matter what happens. Even if you think you can get away. The worst that can happen to you, if you’re caught, is that you’ll be put in jail. But if you run, you’re liable to get a bullet in the back and they don’t set bail on that.”

He said he understood and that he’d do it. “And if anything like that happens don’t pay any attention to me. I may run; I may not. I don’t know. You just drop flat and let the thing go on.”

He said impatiently: “I understand, Connell. You don’t have to repeat yourself.”

“Did you ever have anybody shoot at you?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, I have. It’s easy to forget things at a time like that, mister. We’ll try it at the sides, first.”

I could see his face, there was enough light for that, and I could see he was a bit whiter but looked as though he was going through with it. It’s tough, running into a thing like that, and he had brains enough to know it. The guards were certainly armed and probably Crandall would have a gun in his room. And his wife’s room and Crandall’s were almost next door; probably only a hall between them.

At that, he wasn’t any more afraid than I was. He couldn’t have been. I didn’t have any wife to take my mind off the danger.

We pussy-footed up to the side of the house and I started to try windows. This after taking off our shoes. I didn’t think Crandall would have anything like burglar alarms on the windows; damned few private houses have, and this didn’t worry me. But the thought of a squeaky window did.

They all were locked... both sides. We went to the back of the house, tip-toed up on a broad back porch and tried the back door and found it the same way. I tried the three pass keys I had and no dice. Then Wendel gripped my arm, pointed down the porch, and hissed: “That window’s open.”

It was... and it was a mortal cinch it was a back bed-bedroom and belonged either to some of the house help or the guards. I went to it, peeked in and could see a shadowy outline of a bed and could hear somebody wheezing. It wasn’t a snore and from the sound of it I couldn’t tell whether it was a man or woman. I took my sap out of my back pocket and whispered to Wendel: “Let me get by the bed. Then you come in. For Christ’s sake be careful.”

He squeezed my arm to show me he understood.

I climbed through the window, trying to keep my clothes from rubbing on the sill and making a noise, and got inside with no yowl coming from the bed. I knelt down by it so I could get the sleeper’s face outlined against the wall, and saw it was a woman. I got ready to shove her pillow in her face, if she woke, and Wendel started to come in.

I’ll give him credit. He had the instincts of a first class second-story worker. The guy must have been a thief at heart. He came through the window like a ghost.

We slipped through the bedroom door, which made one squeak when I opened it, and saw a hall leading toward the front of the house and an open door to the kitchen. I whispered to Wendel:

“There’s probably back stairs but we can’t look for them. We’d be bound to tack into something that would rattle. Keep about ten feet back of me but keep coming.”

He squeezed my arm again.

I went down the hall and it jogged, right by the front door, showing a staircase going up. There was a door leading to a front room on each side and from the left I could hear good hearty husky snores and I never heard better music in my life. I went up the stairs, walking close to the wall as I’d told Wendel to do, in order to lessen the chance of a squeaky tread, but the house was old and warped and those damned stairs sounded as loud to me as any brass band I ever heard.

But not a sound, outside of that.

I got to the top and waited for Wendel, and I could hear him coming all the way. Not alone from the stairs but because of his breathing. He was wheezing like he had asthma. I whispered to him when he got to me: “For God’s sake breathe slower.”

He whispered back: “I’ll try.”

The tough part was coming. What we’d done was kid stuff, compared to waking his wife up and keeping her from waking up the household. I said:

“What pet name did you have for her?” He grunted, made a rattling noise in his throat that sounded like: “E-r-r-r,” and didn’t say anything.

“You must have called her something besides Ruth.”

He whispered: “I... I... I called her p-puzzums.”

I said: “Oh Jesus!” and wanted to laugh in spite of the spot I was on, but I said instead: “Now when we get inside you get you face close to her ear and be ready to whisper in it. Then just put your hand over her mouth and whisper. For Christ’s sake, don’t let her make that first squawk. She’ll come out of her sleep scared to death and she’ll sing out sure as hell. So clamp down on her mouth until she knows who it is that’s talking to her. Understand.” He said he did.

I went down the hall and got to her door and tried it. It was unlocked, and if I’d been a gal in that den of wolves that door would have been bolted and propped closed with a chair as well. But I thanked God for her trust in men and opened it.

I took plenty of time doing it; at least five minutes. And Wendel was at the back of my neck, breathing like a fire horse after a run. I finally got it cracked enough for us to slip through and I went first, to make sure my Sherlock Holmes stunt had been right.

It had been. It was a warm night; the front windows were open and letting in quite a bit of light, and the gal had kicked off the covers. I couldn’t make a mistake; there was no doubt of it being Mrs. Wendel. I slipped to the other side of the bed, where I could help hold her if she came out of her corner fighting, and Wendel knelt down by her.

Her nightie was thin and not exactly where it belonged and knowing Wendel for such a Puritan I felt sorry for him. After all, a man and his wife should have secrets and she’d given hers away. I’d have been willing to bet his face was red and I wouldn’t have taken the short end gambling that mine wasn’t.

He put his hand over her mouth, ready to grab, got his face close to the side of her head, then reached over with his other hand and patted her cheeks.

And clamped down over her mouth.

She came out of it all in a bunch. She bridged herself like a wrestler trying to break a hold and started kicking. I’ll give him credit. He hung on, now with both hands, but it was a grasp of desperation. His mind had given away under the strain and he was whispering hoarsely: “Puzzums! Puzzums! Puzzums!” over and over again.

I got one hand over his, on her mouth, and leaned across her, trying to hold her so she couldn’t get free. She was bucking like a horse. Finally she quieted down and I took my hand away, and he got himself together and said:

“This is Tod, honey. I’ve got to talk to you.”

She kept quiet. He repeated his identification and added: “It’s all right, honey. We won’t hurt you; we just want to talk to you. Now will you whisper and not make any noise?”

Then he said: “Arrrgghh!” and it was no whisper. It was damned near a shout. Instead of trying to hold his hand over her mouth he tried to take it away, and she came right up with it, holding it with her teeth. She was shaking her head like a damned dog and she was screaming at the top of a plenty husky voice.

If I’d been him she’d never have sued for a divorce; she’d never have been able to sue or do anything else in this world. I’d rather have a wild tiger in the house than a woman who bites. I’d have lowered the boom. But he just jerked away and said: “RUTH!”

She went off that bed like a wildcat and she kept yowling like one. I said to the dope: “Come on! Quick!”

I led the way into the hall and there she was, pounding on the door of Crandall’s room and making the night hideous with her voice. Wendel ran to her, took her by the shoulder, and said again: “RUTH!”

She turned and caught him fair in the nose with her fist and I could hear the good solid sound it made when it landed. He took a couple of steps back toward me and I grabbed him and pitched him toward the stairs and said: “Get going fast.”

He did... with me following. We went down the stairs, sounding like a herd of horses, and just when we got to the foot of them the lights snapped on and a guy said: “Hold it!”

It was one of the plug-uglies I’d met at the Three C Club. He was dressed in undershirt and shorts and a .45 Colts Automatic and the last impressed me because it pointed at me, where I stood above Wendel. The Wendel woman’s screams above stopped short, and then Crandall’s voice came from the head of the stairs saying: “Hold them, Barney!”

Barney grinned and said: “Yeah!”

The other guard came out of the door behind Barney and this one was dressed in just shorts. He had a mat of hair on his chest and looked absolutely indecent and he held a gun against his hip bone but so it pointed toward us. He asked Barney: “Everything under control?”

Barney jerked his head and said: “Yeah!” again.

Crandall called down: “Tell ’em to turn around so I can see who it is. I can guess now.”

Wendel turned and I could see blood pouring from his nose. I turned also, and Crandall said: “Hagh! I was right. Hold them, Barney, and I’ll call the police.”

Barney said: “Yeah!”

Crandall was wearing about the loudest suit of pajamas I ever hope to see in this world. Purple and red. He looked like a big fat toad in them. He said to me: “You should have stayed out of town, Connell. You’ll do time for this.”

I said: “Call the cops and shut your God-damned mouth.”

Barney said: “Turn around!” and then: “Now come down here and face the wall.”

He waved the gun toward the wall opposite him, and Wendel and I did what we were told to do. Barney’s gun waving didn’t take the muzzle a hell of a way out of line and there was the partner, behind him, to back him up.

It was no time for heroics.

He took my gun and sap and fanned Wendel, who was clean. He hefted my gun, which weighs forty-four ounces when empty, then slammed it against the side of my head. I rolled with the blow, taking away quite a bit of the punch, but it put me down to my knees. Wendel said:

“Here! Here! That’s not necessary.”

He sounded calm and cool then. The shock of getting nabbed had straightened him instead of doing the other. Barney said: “You want some of it too, eh?”

“That isn’t necessary.”

Barney made a half-hearted cut at him with my gun, missing him a foot, intentionally. I stayed on my knees, shaking my head to clear it, and Wendel asked: “Are you hurt?”

I managed to stand up and said: “No. But when I get that bastard with no percentage he’s going to be.”

Barney laughed and said: “Yeah!”

Crandall called down: “I’ve called the station and they’re sending over. Just hold them, men.”

I turned my head and could see Wendel’s wife standing by Crandall. Wendel was already looking up at her; not saying anything. She saw us and ducked back out of sight and Wendel said to me under his breath:

“I’m getting over it, Connell.”

I said: “Well, it’s time.”

And then we waited for the wagon.

There were four men in it and Barney, the guard, started out with calling the one in charge: “Ziggy!” He said: “Ziggy, these two birds busted in and we got ’em dead to rights. The old man will charge ’em with everything in the book.”

“Where is he?” this Ziggy asked. He was a big burly red-faced man and he’d have won in a beauty contest. The consolation prize.

“Up dressing. You got here quick.”

“I’m on the desk.”

He swung on me and said: “So you’re Connell, eh?”

I nodded.

“You’re the guy that’s been raising so much hell? Start something now, why don’t you?”

I said: “You loud-mouthed son-of-a-bitch! Take off that badge and gun and I will. I’m willing to bet your pals would like to see you take it, too.”

Two of the cops grinned and the other said: “That’s resisting an officer, Ziggy. That’s another charge.”

I said to him: “Another—, hunh?”

The first two cops kept their grins. I was getting a break; two against two. Even-Stephen. The cop got red and mumbled something and I said: “Spit it out, baby. Take off the jewelry and I’ll take you on after Mister bastard here.”

Crandall said, from the stairs: “Quite a guy, eh, Connell? You know an officer can’t brawl like that. I wouldn’t blame either of these men if they subdued you by force after that. I think it would be justifiable.”

Ziggy came out with a sap. So did his pal. One of the other cops said: “Hey, Ziggy. Now there’s no need of...” Ziggy cut at me with the sap then and I dodged it. The dodge took me in the other one’s range and I didn’t do as good there. The sap caught me across the ear and made me wobbly. Wobbly enough to let Ziggy catch me fair and square with his next try.

I came back to life in the wagon and the wagon was stopped in front of the jail. The wagon was only a five passenger sedan but they’re all the same, whether they’ve got wire over the back of a truck or are just an ordinary car. They all take you to jail. I could hear Ziggy’s voice say:

“Get ’em out,” and then I heard Kirby’s voice drawl: “And what is this, Hunter?”

“Two guys charged with house-breaking, assault, and a bunch of other stuff. Connell is going to face a gun charge. The other guy is going up against aggravated assault. Crandall is coming down to charge them.”

Kirby said: “Just a minute. Aren’t you supposed to be on the desk?”

“Wilson’s taking my place.”

“Did I put you on the desk or Wilson?”

“Well, you put me.”

“Why aren’t you there?”

“Well... I...”

Kirby laughed but it didn’t sound funny. He said: “Somebody else is running the force, is that it? You get inside where you belong and you do it God-damned fast.”

I could hear his feet clumping away and then Wendel climbed out. I followed him and had a hard time making it; Ziggy’s sap hadn’t helped me much. Kirby said to the cops:

“We’ll take charge of these men. I want to talk with them.”

He led the way, with Macintosh following Wendel and me. We went in the office and Kirby sat us down and said to me: “What crack-brained stunt is this, Connell?”

The wallop hadn’t helped me think, either. I said: “Well, Wendel wanted to see his wife. So we went to see her.”

Macintosh grinned and said to Kirby: “There’s no charges filed against them, that I can see. Of course there’s that old charge against Connell but that’s County and I haven’t any memory tonight. I don’t see how you can hold them.”

The brain worked better then. I said: “Suppose you hold Mr. Wendel tonight and let me out. That’s splitting the difference.”

Wendel said: “I don’t understand, Connell.”

“You’re safe in jail. I’m not. Not with this Ziggy loose.”

Kirby got red and said: “That wasn’t my fault. I thought I had him out of the way.”

“His Master’s voice,” I said. “Crandall’s.”

Macintosh stared at me and said: “Then you want out and Wendel wants in. That it?”

I nodded.

Wendell said: “Connell, this is ridiculous. I demand that I be allowed to see a lawyer and have a hearing and bail set. I don’t want to spend any time in jail.”

He looked away from me and at Kirby and I shook my head at Macintosh. Macintosh stood and said: “After all Connell knows what he’s doing, Mr. Wendel. Or he’s supposed to know. Suppose you let him play it his way.”

Wendel said indignantly: “Now Connell, I won’t stand for this. I won’t put up with it.”

Macintosh nodded at me and then toward the door and I got up and said to Wendel: “Now look! I don’t want to be tied down and have it known where I’m tied. It doesn’t matter about you; they won’t shoot at you in jail. I don’t think Crandall will put charges against you and I know damn’ well he will against me.”

He argued: “We both did the same thing.”

“They’re afraid of me and they’re not of you. It makes it different. And I want to try out something. I want to see if charges are filed against you, if you want to know.”

He shook his head, made a motion with one hand and grumbled: “Well, all right. I think it’s a silly thing to do.”

“If it wasn’t for me the police would hold you anyway, so what’s the difference?”

He nodded then, said: “Well, all right.”

I said: “I’ll see you soon,” and went out in the hall.

Macintosh followed me out and said: “It’s your play, Connell, but it doesn’t make sense to me. You’re safer in jail than out.”

“I could be followed when I got out; now I can make my sneak. I’ll be back at the Palace if you want me.”

“There’s going to be hell to pay for this tomorrow. You know that.”

“I want Wendel where he’s safe. That’s all. I want him where I can get him if I need him. It may be I’ll want him in a hurry. If he gets out and runs into Joey Free, God knows where he’ll be. With Joey drunk like he is, he’s liable to start for either Mexico or Canada; he does things like that.”

Macintosh grinned. “He’s a wild Indian; I know that. Kirby says he’s a good egg. But wild.”

I said: “He’s the old man of the mountains, that’s all.”

And left for the Palace Rooms.