Anything But Saintly

Chapter 24

I thought this callous remark would offend her enough to change the subject, but I had forgotten the peculiar inverted psychology of the average call girl. They seem to prefer men who are out-and-out leeches.

“I’ll be bringing in twice as much as Jolly, once I get going,” she said. “I’ve only been in the racket a couple of weeks, so I haven’t had time to build up a repeat business. Jolly has a list of clients who ask for her personally when they call in. Mine will build up. You watch. Artie’s promised to throw a lot of new business my way.”

She was in for a disappointment there, because Little Artie wasn’t going to be throwing business anyone’s way. He was going to be too busy trying to keep himself out of the electric chair. I could hardly tell her this, though, for there hadn’t as yet been enough time for Nick Bartkowiak’s murder to be announced over the air, and she would have wondered how I knew of Artie’s troubles.

I said, “When you can afford to buy Jaguars, let me know.”

“Gee, you’re a rat,” she said admiringly. “Would you really leave Jolly for a better offer?”

I shrugged. “A guy would be crazy to turn down an opportunity to improve himself.”

She looked me over speculatively, making me feel somewhat like a side of beef being inspected by a butcher. Apparently she had decided to go all-out for the call girl’s life, and felt that one of the things she had to do for social prestige in her exclusive set was to acquire a pimp. I guessed that it would gratify her ego to take a man away from an established call girl as popular as Jolly.

“Does Jolly have a nice apartment?” she asked. “I’ve never been in it.”

Neither had I, but I could hardly admit that. “Pretty nice.”

“I’ll bet it isn’t as nice as this. Want to see it?”

Her eagerness to sell me on the advantages she had over Jolly amused me. “Sure,” I said agreeably.

Bouncing up from the sofa, she took my hand and led me down the hall to the kitchen. It was large, airy, with all modern appliances. She proudly pointed each out as though she were a landlady trying to rent the place. Then, still holding my hand, she showed me a pink bathroom off the hall. From there we went into a rather small, femininely furnished room.

“This is my bedroom right now,” she said. “But I’m going to move into Kitty’s. It’s bigger.”

She led me across the hall to a wide, much better furnished room with a huge double bed, a dresser and dressing table. She looked up at me, awaiting approval.

“It’s just as nice as Jolly’s,” I conceded. “And a little bigger.”

“I can’t bring myself to move in here just yet,” she said. “I keep remembering walking in and finding Kitty. She was lying right there.” She pointed to a spot on the floor alongside the bed.

This left the opening I had been waiting for. What I wanted to talk about was the murder, but I couldn’t have just walked in and started asking questions like a cop.

“Have you ever decided whether Little Artie killed her or not?” I asked.

She shrugged. “If he did, I’ll bet they never prove it.”

“At least it couldn’t have been robbery. According to the news report, her purse was on the dresser with a couple of hundred bucks in it.”

Doll frowned slightly. “You know, that’s a funny thing, Matt. When she came in the first time at two A.M. the other night, she had a lot more money than that. She had rolled some fellow for five hundred bucks, and she showed me the money. She had about a hundred and fifty in her bag besides that. When she came back the second time at eleven-thirty in the morning, she must have had around seven hundred, because she would have picked up another fifty on her second date. But I’ve searched the whole apartment and I can’t find that five hundred.”

There was the final loose end, I thought. Only Artie Nowak would have taken exactly five hundred after killing her, because he had paid that amount out of his own pocket on her account. Anyone else would either have taken nothing, or would have cleaned out her purse. Little Artie must have been the murderer.

I said, “That is peculiar.”

Doll was still hanging onto my hand, and now she gave it a squeeze. “Let’s not talk about it any more, Matt. I’m trying to forget the whole thing. Do you really like the apartment?”

“Sure. It’s fine.”

“Better than Jolly’s?”

I shrugged. “Just as good.”

“How about me? Do you like me?”

“I think you’re a doll.”

She made a face at me. “That’s a lousy pun. Do you like me better than Jolly?”

“You’re asking an awful lot of questions,” I said.

“I’m getting awfully poor answers. I suppose you couldn’t really tell which of us you liked better until we’d been together.”

“Together?”

“You know. Don’t act so dumb.” She gave my hand another squeeze and looked at me expectantly.

There wasn’t any doubt what she had in mind. She wanted to give me a chance to compare all her assets to Jolly’s. I glanced at the bed, wondering how to slide gracefully out of this situation without completely slipping out of character.

Releasing my hand, she put both hands on my shoulders and looked up into my face. “Why don’t you find out if you really like me?” she suggested.

Obviously there wasn’t going to be any way to slide out of the situation without letting her know I wasn’t what I was pretending to be. Why not, I thought? It was really in line of duty.

I dropped my hands to her hips and her arms immediately went around my neck. Pulling my face down to hers, she met my lips with her mouth wide open. It was about the most passionate kiss I ever had.

Eventually she decided to come up for air. Disengaging herself, she stepped back, put both hands behind her and untied her halter, keeping her eyes fixed on my face all the time. Slipping it off, she stood holding it in her hand, letting me admire her small, pointed, delicately-veined breasts.

The doorbell rang.

“Damn!” Doll said.

She stood listening, a frown on her face. After a moment it rang again.

“Oh, hell,” she said irritably. Replacing the halter across her bosom, she turned her back. “Tie me up.”

Crossing the cords, I tied them in a bow.

“I’ll get rid of whoever it is,” she said. “Stay right here. I’ll be back.”

I waited in the bedroom as she moved up the hall to the front room. I heard her unlock the door and open it.

A male voice said, “Your mail was still in the box, so I brought it up.”

“Thanks,” Doll said in a strangely frigid tone. Then her voice turned sharp. “Nobody invited you in!”

I heard the door click shut and the bolt turn. The man snickered.

“You get out of here!” Doll ordered.

“Aw, don’t high-hat me, baby. I know what you do for a living. Your girl friend was one too. You be nice to me and I won’t tell the landlord what kind of girls he’s been renting to.”

Walking to the bedroom door, I stuck my head out. A big, red-faced man of about my age stood with his back to the front door grinning at Doll. He was dressed in denim trousers, a soiled sport shirt and heavy work shoes. He didn’t see me, because at that moment Doll laid her open palm across the side of his head in a slap that exploded like a pistol shot.

As I moved out into the hallway, he grabbed her wrist, twisted it up behind her back and clamped his free arm around her to crush her to his chest. The letters Doll was holding in her left hand fluttered to the floor. There was a flaming red mark on his left cheek where Doll had slapped him, and his eyes glittered with anger.

“Now you’re going to get it, you little tart,” he growled. “You’re gonna get laid right here on the floor.”

Then he saw me in the doorway from the hall and froze.

“Surprise,” I said pleasantly.

He released the girl and she stumbled backward. As I closed the distance between us, he just stood there licking his lips, too frightened by my sudden appearance even to defend himself. I guess he was only brave against women.

I meant it only to be a light, admonishing rap on the chin, just hard enough to teach him manners. But sometimes my temper gets the best of me. When my fist crashed against his jaw, he dropped with a thud that shook the room. He lay flat on his back, his mouth open, out cold.

“Who the devil is he?” I asked.

“The jerk across the hall,” Doll said. She glared down at him, her breasts heaving. “He’s always nosing around here, angling for an invitation in, but he never pulled anything like this before.”

I studied the prone figure thoughtfully. “Maybe he has,” I said in a slow voice. “Maybe he pulled the same thing on Kitty yesterday.”

There was a quick intake of breath. Doll stared at me.

“What’s his name?” I asked.

“Donald Tupper. He shares his flat with a fellow who works at the same place he does. Snyder’s the other guy’s name. Eugene Snyder.”

Stooping, I rolled the unconscious man over on his stomach and worked a wallet from his hip pocket. Going through it, I found a union membership card for Local 216 of the United Machine-shop Workers. It listed his occupation as lathe operator and his place of employment as Amhurst Products.

Returning the various cards to the wallet, I stuffed it back in his hip pocket and rolled him on his back again. This woke him up, at least partially. He stared up at me blearily.

Reaching down, I grabbed a double handful of shirt front and jerked Donald Tupper to his feet. He raised his hands defensively.

“I’m not going to clip you again,” I growled. “I want you conscious. You make a regular habit of forcing yourself into women’s apartments and mauling them?”

“I didn’t mean nothing, mister,” he said in a thick whine. “I was just trying to be neighborly.”

I shook him until his teeth rattled. “Were you being neighborly yesterday when you beat Kitty to death?”

His jaw dropped and he gazed at me in terror.

“Well?” I said, giving him another shake.

He gulped, “You don’t think...” then his words trailed off.

“Why shouldn’t I think it? You were all set to rape Doll. Yesterday you tried the same stunt on Kitty, didn’t you?”

“I was at work all day,” he squeaked. “I don’t get home until three-thirty. Look what time it is. I’m just getting home now.”

“So you worked today,” I said. “Can you prove you were at work all day yesterday?”

“Ask my buddy if you don’t believe me. He’s right across the hall. He works right alongside of me.”

“We’ll just do that,” I said grimly.

Releasing my double grip on his shirt front, I unlocked and opened the door. Then I grabbed his shoulder and swung him through it with such force, he staggered across the hall and crashed into the door on the other side.

Following after him, I turned the knob, pushed open the door and shoved him inside. He staggered again, righted himself and came to a halt in the center of the front room. I walked in after him, and Doll came as far as the doorway.