Bedside Murder

Chapter IV

Baldy took me to the door of Lazardo’s Bar at six and, when he saw through the glass that Kim was sitting at the bar waiting, he said, “Owen to Hale. Over.”

He drifted off into the crowd and I went in and sat at the bar with Kim, sliding up onto the stool before he saw me coming. He bought me a Martini and told a waiter to bring his drink and mine over to a corner table. The next-door booth was empty so we could talk freely.

I had a thought that I had been working on most of the afternoon and I told him. The substance of it was that with Baldy on the job as well as Kim, I was being so well protected that whoever was after me would slide off over the horizon and twiddle his or her thumbs until the mob scene ceased.

He slowly twisted his glass on the black plastic tabletop. “Maybe yes, but just as probably no. The pixie we’re after has been clever up until now. You’ve just been lucky that not one of his tries has worked. A murderer who goes about it the way this one has is probably a shade psychopathic. Guessing at the type of mentality involved, I’d say that all this protection would be considered a challenge. I have a hunch the pixie would very much like to knife in between Baldy and me and rub you out.”

He paused to light my cigarette.

“I’ve been working, Hank,” he went on then. “All morning and all afternoon. I have one or two little items that might interest you. Of course, I didn’t meet Johnny France or your agent, Carl Hopper, yet. I worked on the others. Before I forget, did you see Wint’s column?”

I laughed. “When is the happy day, lover? Or haven’t we decided?”

“What I liked was that business about ‘brilliant young attorney.’ You know, this case may do me some good yet.”

“Get on with the dirt, Kim.”

“How did you know it was dirt? I looked up the ownership of the building where the Staccato Club is located. It’s owned by two brothers named Zachik. I paid a visit, told them I represented somebody who wanted to lease the whole building. They said that the lease of one tenant would run out in six months. I guessed that they meant Sam Lescott. I asked if he’d renew. They said that he would unless my client could offer a startlingly large sum to buy him off his option to renew. I said good-by and checked Sam’s credit. He is more flush than you’d expect. Any competition eager enough to get you out of the way in order to break him would be smart enough to know that getting rid of you wouldn’t do it. So, for a time, we’ll cross any mysterious business interests off our list.

“But checking the credit of Lescott, I also checked this former agent of yours, Roger Blate. He is in rough shape. When your friends worked him over, they also dropped a few words in the right places and a lot of his business has gone elsewhere. Johnny France is the best client he has left. Last month he had to move out of his apartment. Two ex-wives are into him for alimony and he will probably be dodging a process-server one of these days. He has every reason to hate you, but killing you will not, of course, restore his bankroll.

“Now for Donald Frees. His mother spent a lot of her life in and out of sanitariums. There is always the chance that Donald may have inherited a little of his mother’s lack of balance, but it is hard to see what he’d gain by killing you while trying to talk you into marrying him.”

I was impressed. “You get around, don’t you?”

“You are paying for it, Hank. Eager attorney doing job eagerly.”

At the break just after midnight I got Johnny France to come over to the table and meet Kim. Johnny’s real name is Juan Francisco and he’s a good boy to work with. At times he is moody and at other times entirely too gay, but neither emotion affects his singing. Like most people in our business he has had his lean times, and it has taught him a certain amount of humility.

He was in one of his down moods and spent most of the time at our table staring at the tablecloth while Kim’s conversation and mine floated over his sleek head.

After he left the table Kim said, “Moody kid, isn’t he?”

“Up and down. But no matter how happy he is, those big dark eyes of his always look sad.”

Kim was waiting in the alley when I let myself out the side door. The glowing end of his cigarette arced over through the darkness and he stepped out into the light, smiling up at me.

I started down the steps, smiling back when an unseen sledge hammer caught me in the side. It smashed the breath out of me and drove me off the steps, the echo of the shot roaring in the narrow canyon of the alley.

I fell on my side, gagging and straining to get my breath back. Another shot sounded — Kim’s gun. I heard the slap of shoes against the pavement. My side ached and I touched it with my fingertips, feeling for the blood that should be there.

Kim came back, dropped on his knees beside me. He was breathing hard and his voice was hoarse.

“Where is it, darling?” he asked. “Where did it hit you?”

“My side,” I gasped, touching it with my right hand.

The cop who had talked with us the night before came running down the alley.

“Where was that shot?” he demanded.

Kim pointed toward the street. I let myself fall back against the pavement. Kim’s quick fingers unbuttoned the jacket to my suit. He pulled the blouse up out of my skirt, rolled me gently so that the light touched my side. As his fingers probed at my ribs, I fainted.

When I swam back up through the layers of darkness, I was on the couch in my dressing room. A stranger, the light glistening on his bald head, was stripping wide adhesive off a roll and taping my ribs.

When I moaned, he looked at my face and said, “Hello, young woman. Exhale, please.”

I did so, and he taped me up. We were alone in the room. I could hear voices out in the hall. I suddenly realized I was bare from the waist up, but, as I reached for one of the couch cushions he said, “If you feel strong enough, you can slip into your clothes now.”

I still couldn’t figure out what had happened. My white blouse and the jacket of the gray-green gabardine suit were over the arm of the chair near the couch. He fussed with getting the tape and scissors back into his bag as I dressed. It hurt to lift my right arm.

“What happened to me?” I asked in a small voice.

He straightened up. “Shot, I believe. At least that’s what the policeman said. Your friend and two policemen are out in the hall. I thought you’d rather I shooed them out.”

“Thank you, Doc. How much?”

“Ten will cover it.”

I walked dizzily over to the bench where I noticed my purse. I opened it up, took out the wallet and looked at it in dismay. There was a ragged hole that went completely through it, and through every bill in it. I found a ten and it was in bad shape. I gave it to him. He looked at it curiously, but pocketed it, picked up his bag and walked out.

Kim, the familiar cop and Danny Geraine came in. Danny hurried over and kissed me on the cheek while Kim looked on, baffled.

“How do you feel, Hank honey?” he asked.

“Sort of beat up, Uncle Danny,” I said, sitting on the couch gratefully.

Danny was one of my pop’s best friends. He was in plain clothes, and his weathered old face looked drawn and grim.

“What is it they’re trying to do to you, girl?” he asked, his big hands on his hips, the hat on the back of his head.

“I was coming out—”

“I’ve got all that, girl. You got down two steps and you caught a forty-five slug in the ribs. I took the slug out of your purse. A good thing you carry the purse in the crook of your arm, girl. That big slug went through one side of the purse, through both folds of the wallet and then hit your cigarette lighter and cigarette case. Girl, it must have been like getting hit with a ball bat. The doc says you’ve got two broken ribs.”

I tried to take a deep breath. “He’s crazy. I’ve got eleven broken ribs, a broken back and a small fire just under the skin.”

“Hank,” Kim said, “I saw the muzzle flash from the shadows about thirty feet from the steps. I fired back and ran toward it. By the time I got to the bend in the alley, whoever it was, was gone. I ran back to see how badly you were hurt.”

Danny looked at me severely. “This lad tells me that this is the fourth time in two weeks you’ve nearly died, girl. Why haven’t you been to tell Uncle Dan about it?”

“And be told I was looking for publicity?”

He frowned, then nodded. “Some of them that don’t know you might have thought so, girl. But not Dan Geraine. What have you been doing that somebody should want you dead?”

I shook my head. “Nothing, Uncle Danny. Nothing.”

He thought for a few moments and then made a suggestion. “Girl, suppose you tell Uncle Dan every little thing you know, and in return I’ll keep this out of the papers.”

“How about last night?” the patrolman asked. “How about the trouble out there on the sidewalk?”

Dan turned to him. “Son, suppose you trot along and take care of your beat. When you make your report, refer to the report I’ll make.”

“Okay,” the patrolman said sullenly. He turned and went out.

I was beginning to feel better. I stood up and took the cigarette Kim offered me. Danny took the slug out of his pocket and showed it to me. It was large and flattened. He pointed with a blunt thumbnail to one portion of it.

“There’s the only place we can get a marking off it to put under the comparison microscope,” he said. “There’s so many G.I. forty-fives around that it’s nearly impossible checking.” He shoved it back into his vest pocket and pulled out a more familiar one. “Now this one, this little thirty-two slug isn’t so battered. Found that in your purse too.” He pulled up a chair and sat down heavily. “Start talking, Hank baby.”

An hour later he had every detail. There was silence in the dressing room. Everybody else had gone home, having tired of waiting around to find out about the excitement in the alley. Dan looked at Kim.

“It was your duty to report all this to the police, Hale,” he said, “even if she didn’t want it reported.”

“I realize that now, and I’m sorry,” Kim said humbly.

Dan smiled at me. “You’re the daughter of Joe Ryan. You tell me what my next step is?”

“What Dad used to call footwork. Find out where everybody was at the time I stopped the bullet. Eliminate those that have a good alibi. Double check those that don’t to see if you can uncover motive. If you find one with a good motive and no covering alibi, try to prove they did it. If you can’t prove it, set some sort of a trap so they’ll commit themselves.”

He stood up. “Right.” He turned on Kim. “A good thing you’ve got a permit for the gun of yours, lad. Now get this girl back to her place.” He turned to me. “You’ve had a shock. You will stay in your apartment until I tell you you can leave it. You will eat there every meal. Stay away from windows and don’t open the door unless you know who is on the other side, and even then only when you’ve got me or Hale here in the apartment with you.”

I gave him a startled look. “Hey, there! You seem to forget that I have a job here. Remember? Do re me fa so?”

“Doctor’s orders, Hank. You set one foot outside the apartment and I give this whole thing to the newspapers. I can keep it out by telling the captain that it’s the only way to keep the criminal off guard.”

Kim nodded in agreement. I looked helplessly at him and then at Uncle Danny. “All right. All right,” I said wearily. “Take me home, Kim.”

When we got back to the apartment, Baldy and Betty were sitting side by side on the couch. They both looked up when I swung the door open. Betty looked a bit rumpled and Baldy looked a bit flushed.

Betty brought in some beer and they listened while Kim told them the full story of the latest attack on me, including the fact that I’d have to stay in the apartment. Baldy and Betty both nodded their agreement with the plan. Kim looked at Baldy.

“Chum,” he said, “I think that you should have been sleeping this evening instead of being a gay blade. Wasn’t that the agreement?”

Baldy looked hurt. “You misjudge me, boss. I turned the canary over to you at six. I bought a steak. I went back to my hotel. I went to sleep at eight. I slept until two. Insomnia. I guessed it was about time Betty got home from her date. I called her at twenty to three. She was in. I was hungry. I invited myself over. Okay?”

Betty had been very quiet ever since Kim had told of the attempt on my life. Her usually cheerful and placid face had looked strained.

To cheer her up I said, “Two dates in one night, Betty! You’re really getting around.”

“Did you leave your window open when you left?” she asked me.

“No.”

She turned to Kim. “When I got back from my date, a few minutes before Baldy phoned, I heard a noise in Hank’s room. I opened the door and went in, thinking that she might have gotten through unusually early. Her window was wide open and I thought that was funny because three days ago some men came up and put a ventilator on the window, the kind that lets air in without anybody being able to open it any further from the outside.”

Kim jumped up. “Come on, Baldy,” he said. “You gals stay right here. Maybe they boobytrapped the bedroom.”

Betty and I sat and watched each other with wide eyes. After the shot that came through my bedroom window I had had the trick ventilator installed, and I had also bought thick curtains that could be drawn across so that no one could see into the bedroom. Betty had helped me move the furniture around. I had told her it was because I was sick of the old arrangement. Actually, I hadn’t wanted anybody hitting the target with a second shot fired by guess through the locked window and the heavy curtains.

And somebody had opened the trick window!