42 Days For Murder

Chapter Twenty-One

There were forty-eight of the cribs and they were set in the shape of a horseshoe. Two long lines of little attached bungalow affairs and with a dance hall at the back. To get inside the horseshoe you had to go down a sort of lane, with a high board fence enclosing it on each side, then turn to the right. Then you passed a little police booth, where a copper was on duty all the time. I suppose in case of disturbances; drunks and the girls fighting among themselves.

The cop had a book with the girls’ names, ages, weights, and full descriptions in it. And with their records, if any. The record part was supposed to be checked but that’s a hard thing to do; the girls changed all the time. The whole thing was legal, with the city taking a cut on the take.

We sailed down the alley, turned by the booth, and Macintosh stopped there and said: “Who’s new, Joe?” to the young copper in the booth.

The copper ruffled the leaves in his ledger and said in a bored voice: “Two today. Jean Allen and Frances Tremaine. Both are out of Frisco. Both are kids; Jean’s twenty-two and the other’s a year older. They’re minding their business.”

“Who brought ’em here?”

The young cop widened his eyes and said: “I don’t let a pimp inside the gate, Mac. You ought to know that.”

“I mean to town.”

He shrugged, said: “I don’t know yet, haven’t heard. I suppose the usual gang.”

“They on the stuff?”

He grinned on that one and said: “I’d bet a fin. I’ll win nine out of ten times, won’t I?”

We went down the line at the right, with the gals leaning out the windows and talking to us. They were very frank about what they were talking about; too frank for Lester. He was red in the face and so embarrassed he could hardly keep up with us. Half way down the line the cop jerked his thumb at a tall blonde leaning out of her crib and said:

“This one’s Jean. Frances is at the end.”

Kirby said to Macintosh: “I’ll get Frances. Get her dressed. This is all taking time.”

He kept on with the young cop and Mac said to Jean: “Okey, kid. Get your clothes on and make it snappy.”

She said: “What’s the matter? Christ, I just got in town.”

He said: “I didn’t ask you about that. I said ‘get your clothes on.’ I’m in a hurry.”

She saw he wasn’t fooling and ducked back into her cubby-hole. She called back: “Just a minute, Chief. You ain’t getting any cherry; I been pinched before.”

Mac said: “Smart kid.”

Lester said, in an awed voice: “Why she’s hardly more than a child.”

I said: “She’s been farther under the barn after eggs than you’ve ever been away from home, kid. That’s a tough baby.”

“But she looks so... well, sort of innocent.” Macintosh turned a perfectly blank face toward me and it meant more than if he’d winked.

I said: “That’s the kind that make the dough. Oh, oh! What’s the Chief run into?” Kirby had stopped down toward the end of the line and there was a knot of girls around him. They weren’t making any noise, though, just a sort of murmur. Through it there was a muffled screaming that cut like a knife, even though it wasn’t loud. I said to the cop that had driven down with us: “Stay here and watch this gal. We want her,” and followed Macintosh and Lester to the knot of girls.

Kirby was right in the middle of it. He was on his knees, holding his arm around a girl’s shoulders, and he was red in the face and swearing. He said, as I came up: “Damn that doctor! If this girl has a bad pump I’ll crucify him. One of you get some water, quick. And a drink of whiskey.”

One of the girls turned and headed toward the dance hall, where there was a bar. The Chief looked up at us and said:

“I told her to get her duds on and come along and damned if she didn’t fold up. If she’s got a bad heart I’ll crucify that doctor, so help me I will.”

Lester said: “Doctor!” to me. His face was pale instead of red and he kept looking around him as though he’d like to be any place but there.

I said: “Sure. They look ’em over before they let ’em work. It’s the law.”

He said: “My God!”

I was looking at the girl. She was a good looking kid but hard looking. The blonde, Jean, had a baby face and innocent look. This kid was dark and looked tougher than tripe. But pretty. The girl came back with water and half a bottle of whisky and the bar man came with her and said:

“Let me! I know how.”

He knelt down and lipped a towel in the water and started to slap the girl across the face with it. After a bit of this she started to moan and he dumped some whisky in the palm of his hand and held it over her nose and mouth. She started to strangle and cough and he grinned at the Chief and said:

“That’s the stuff to give the troops. What did she do; roll some guy?”

The girl came out of it all the way then. She looked up at the Chief and sobbed out: “Oh don’t arrest me. Please, please, don’t arrest me. Please, please.”

Lester started to look sick.

The girl went on with: “They’ll put my name in the paper and my folks will find it out. Please, please.”

I said to Lester: “The primrose path, kid. How d’ya like it?”

He didn’t answer. I don’t think he could have spoken a word if his life had depended on it. The Chief said:

“Now look, honey! I’m not going to arrest you.”

And then looked up and snapped at the ring of staring girls: “Take her in and get her dressed and do it fast. Move now.”

They helped her in the bungalow, and the Chief stuck his lower lip out like a bull dog and said: “She’s got a lot of business here, by God. Somebody’s going to answer for this.”

Macintosh said: “That’s the idea, Kirb. Young Rucci is going to answer for it; that’s why I want these girls.”

Kirby came back to what he was supposed to be doing then. The blonde girl, Jean, came strolling down toward us, in no hurry and smoking a cigarette. The cop that had driven down with us was following her. Kirby said to the younger one, that had been in the booth:

“See that this Frances girl is dressed and okey. Glen, here will take her and Jean, here, up to the station. You understand, Glen. Just put ’em in my office and sit there with ’em. No charges and nothing to the papers. If there’s a leak on this from the station I’ll blame you for it. You know what to do.”

Glen said: “Sure,” and smiled at Jean. He was a stocky red-faced bird that looked as though he had a wife and family waiting at home. He said to Jean:

“You see? You’re not even going to see our jail, honey.”

She said: “It won’t be the first I’ve seen, buttons. Or maybe the last.”

Macintosh said: “Come on, let’s go,” and Kirby and Lester and I started for the front. Macintosh said to me:

“I hate to see the kids in it, like this Frances. The blonde is hard-boiled but the other just is a damned fool. This caper will hold young Rucci for some little time.”

Lester said nothing and Kirby kept grumbling about the doctor not giving the girl a looking over before passing her on the job.

I said nothing either; it was none of my affair how Reno ran itself. My business was coming to a head and that’s all I was concerned with at that time.

It looked as though it might be plenty for three men and a boy to handle.