Figure It Out for Yourself

I

ONE hot June afternoon I was sitting in my office at peace with the world, and conscious that the world was, for a change, at peace with me, when Paula put her dark, lovely head around the door to shatter my pipe-dream.

‘You have the Wingrove job to do,’ she said.

There are times when I regret having thought up Universal Services. (No matter how tough the job: we’ll do it.) As a money-maker it was sound enough, and as somebody else’s brainwave it was brilliant, but when I get stuck with something like the Wingrove assignment, then I begin to wonder if I shouldn’t have my head examined for putting myself out on such a limb.

The Wingrove assignment was a job I wouldn’t have touched with an eighty-foot pole if I had been consulted, but it had sneaked into the office, together with a five-hundred-dollar retainer, when I was in bed with a hangover, and Paula had accepted the money and sent off a receipt.

The daughter of Martin Wingrove, one of Orchid City’s most affluent citizens, had reverted to type, and he wanted me to persuade her to return home.

I hadn’t much of a proposition to offer her. Wingrove was fat and old and nasty. He kept one of Ralph Bannister’s taxi-dancers in a pent-house in Felman Street: a big, brassy blonde whose mode of life would have horrified a monkey. He was grasping, domineering and selfish. His wife had run away with his chauffeur, who was half her age, but hungry for money, and his son was sweating out a drug cure in a private home. Not much of a home background to persuade a girl to return to, but then I hadn’t seen her. For all I knew, she was tarred with the same brush. It would be a lot easier for me if she was, and it seemed likely. From Paula’s notes on the case, the girl was living with Jeff Barratt, a notoriously vicious playboy who was about as rotten as they come.

I had been offered a free hand. The girl was under age, and Wingrove was within his rights to force her to return home. But Barratt wasn’t likely to part with her easily, and she was certain to resist. On the face of it, it looked as if I would be in for quite a time. Obviously, it was a job for the police, but Wingrove had a horror of that kind of publicity. He knew if the police fetched her back, the story would hit the headlines, so he did what so many people have done in the past when they have a particularly dirty job on their hands, he unloaded it on me.

I had been side-stepping the job for the past three days, and had begun to hope that Paula had forgotten about it I should have known better.

‘Eh?’ I opened one eye and looked at her reproachfully.

‘The Wingrove job,’ she said firmly, coming into the office.

I sat up.

‘How many more times do I have to tell you I don’t want that job? Send the money back, and say I’m too busy.’

‘You’re not suggesting we should refuse five hundred dollars, are you?’

‘I don’t want the job.’

‘What’s wrong with it?’ she asked patiently. ‘It won’t take you more than an hour. Why, it would be tempting Providence not to do it.’

‘If Providence can be tempted that easy, then I’ll tempt it. Now, don’t bother me. Get on to Wingrove and tell him we’re far too busy to handle the job.’

‘I sometimes wonder why we’re in business at all,’ Paula said acidly. ‘I hope you realize there’re bills to be paid at the end of the month. I hope you haven’t forgotten this desk you insisted on having hasn’t yet been paid for.’

I knew she’d go on in this vein all the afternoon if I didn’t stop her.

‘Well, all right. Send Kerman. Why shouldn’t he do a little work for a change? Why should all the dirty jobs have my name on them? You’d think I didn’t own this joint the way I’m treated. Give the job to Kerman.’

‘He’s teaching Miss Ritter to drive.’

‘What, again! He’s always teaching Miss Ritter to drive! What’s the matter with her? No one can take two solid months, six hours a day, to learn to drive a car. There’s no one alive who can be that dumb.’

‘She thinks Kerman is cute,’ Paula said, suppressing a smile. ‘I guess it’s a matter of taste, but she tells me to sit beside Kerman in a car is an experience all women should have once in a lifetime. I’m not sure if I know what she means. I hope I’m not being unkind, but I think she’s neurotic. Anyway, what does it matter? She pays very well.’

‘That’s all you think about—money! So because Miss Ritter is neurotic and Kerman’s cute, I have to do all the dirty work, is that it?’

‘You can always engage another assistant,’ Paula pointed out,

‘Now who’s throwing our profits away? Well, all right, but understand from tomorrow Kerman gets down to a job of work. I’ll learn Miss Ritter to drive- If she thinks Kerman is an experience, she’s in for a surprise.’

‘The address is 247 Jefferson Avenue…’ Paula began.

‘I know! Don’t tell me again. When I die, and you cut me open, you’ll find it engraved on my spleen. For the past five days, that’s all I’ve heard.’

I grabbed up my hat and made for the door.

II

247 Jefferson Avenue was an apartment house at the Fairview end of the avenue: a big, square shaped concrete building with green shutters at the windows and a gaudy canopy over the main entrance.

The lobby of the apartment house was dim and soothing. There were no murals or statues or violent colours to give the homecoming drunks a fright. The carpet was laid over rubber blocks and gave under my feet as I crossed to the automatic elevator.

Hidden behind a screen of tropical palms in brass pots were the desk and switchboard. A girl with a telephone harness hitched to her chest was reading the funnies. She was cither too bored to bother or didn’t hear me come in, for she didn’t look up, and that’s unusual in a joint like this. As a rule they head you off from the elevator until they have called whoever you’re visiting to make sure you’re wanted.

But as I slid back the elevator door, a man in a shabby dark suit and a bowler hat set straight and square on his head appeared from behind a pillar and plodded over to me.

‘Going some place or just taking the ride for the hell of it?’ he growled.

His face was round and fat, and covered with a web of fine veins. His eyes were deep-set and cold. His moustache hid a mouth that was probably thin and unpleasant. He looked what he was: a retired cop, supplementing his pension by bouncing the unwanteds.

‘I’m making a call,’ I said, and gave him a smile; but he ‘didn’t seem impressed by my charms.

‘We like callers to check in at the desk. Who do you want to see?’ He sounded no tougher than any other cop in Orchid City, but tough enough to have hair on his chest.

I didn’t want Barratt to know I was about to call on him. It would be quite bad enough without him being on his guard. I took out my bill-fold and hoisted up a five-dollar bill. The fat bouncer’s eyes fastened on it, and a tongue like the toe of on old boot searched amongst the jungle of his moustache. I pushed the bill at him.

Fat, nicotine-stained fingers closed over it: a reflex action born of years of experience.

‘I’ll just take the ride,’ I said, and showed him more of my teeth: those capped in gold.

‘Don’t take too long about it,’ he growled, ‘and don’t think this buys you anything. I just haven’t seen you."

He plodded back to his pillar again, then paused to scowl at the girl behind the desk, who had stopped reading the funnies and was watching him with a set smile on her foxy little face. As I closed the elevator door he was on his way over to her, probably to share the swag.

I rode up to the fourth floor and walked down a long passage studded with doors. Barratt’s apartment was No. 4BI5. I found it around the corner: an isolated door at the end of a dim culde-sac. The radio was blaring, and as I raised my hand to ring the bell, there came a sudden crash of breaking glass.

I dug my thumb into the bell push and waited. Strident jazz howled at me through the door panels, but no one bothered to answer the door. I sank my thumb into the bell-push again and leaned my weight against it. I could hear the bell ringing above the shrill notes of a clarinet. Then suddenly someone snapped off the radio and jerked open the door.

A tall, blond man in a scarlet dressing-room stood in the doorway, smiling at me. His lean, white face was handsome if you like the profile type. A moustache, the size of a well-fed caterpillar, graced his upper lip. The pupils of his amber-coloured eyes were as big as dimes.

‘Hello,’ he said in a low, drawling voice, ‘was that you ringing?’

‘If it wasn’t me, then the place is haunted,’ I said, watching him. From the look of his eyes, he was full of reefer smoke, and I had an idea he needed watching.

‘I can be funny too,’ he said mildly. His hand flashed up, and the broken bottle he had been concealing behind his back whizzed towards my face

I managed to get my face out of the way more by luck than judgment. The impetus of his lunge brought him forward very conveniently for the right-hand punch I hung on his jaw. The smack of bone against bone, and the click of his teeth made a satisfying sound in my ears.

He spread out on the floor, the bottle still clutched in his fingers. I paused long enough to take the bottle from him, and then edged into the room. The air smelt of whisky fumes and marijuana smoke: the kind of smell you would expect to run into in any hole occupied by a man like Barratt, Several broken bottles of whisky lay in a heap in the fireplace. The all-steelfurniture was scattered around the room as if two husky stevedores had been having a fight. The ten-foot polished-steel table lay on its side against a window that had a cracked pane.

Apart from the smell and the furniture, the room was empty. I moved silently over the bloodred carpet to a half-open door, and looked into a room that had the curtains drawn and the electric light on.

An ash-blonde girl lay on the bed. She had on a necklace of ivory beads, a thin gold chain around her left ankle, and nothing else. She was young and reasonably put together, but she didn’t make a pretty picture as she lay on the crumpled sheet. Her mouth was puffed up as if someone had hit her recently, and there were several ugly-looking green-and-blue bruises on her arms and chest.

We looked at each other. She didn’t move, nor did she seem surprised to see me. She gave me that silly, meaningless smile reefer-smokers hand out when they suspect they should be sociable, and the effort is too much for them.

She wasn’t in any state to listen to a sales talk. I had to decide whether I should leave her there or take her home. Although her father wasn’t anything a Boy Scout would want to hang on his totem pole, at least he wouldn’t feed her hasheesh, I decided to take her home.

‘Hello, Miss Wingrove. How about you and me going home?’

She didn’t say anything. The smile remained fixed on the shiny red mouth. I doubted if she heard what I said, let alone understood what was happening.

I didn’t like the idea of touching her, but it was pretty obvious she wasn’t going to leave the apartment on her feet. She would have to be carried. I wondered what the bowler-hatted bouncer would say when he saw me manhandling her through the lobby.

There was another bed by the window. I stripped a blanket from it and dropped the blanket over the corrupt little body.

‘Say so if you’d rather walk. If you don’t feel up to it, I’ll carry you.’

She stared blankly at me, her smile slipped, and she had to make a conscious effort to hitch it into place again. She hadn’t any comments to make.

I bent over her and slid my hands under her knees and shoulders. As I lifted her she suddenly came alive. She grabbed me around the neck and flung herself back on to the bed, throwing me off balance so I fell on top of her. She was all arms and legs now, and I couldn’t get away from her.

I didn’t want to hurt her, but there was something pretty horrible in the way she was holding me, and I hated the feel of her hot, soft body. She was giggling in an insane way, and clung to me, her legs round my back and her finger-nails digging into my neck.

I seized her wrists and tried to break her hold, but she was surprisingly strong and I couldn’t get enough leverage to free myself. We rolled off the bed on to the floor and she butted me with her head and tried to bite me in the face.

We wrestled around on the floor, knocking the furniture over, and after I had taken a couple of socks in the face that hurt I sank one into her midriff and winded her. She rolled away from me, gasping, and I got to my feet. I had lost my collar; one of my coot lapels had been ripped, and I was bleeding from a long scratch down the side of my face.

There was still plenty of fight left in her. She was squirming around on the floor, trying to get her breath back and trying to get at me when Barratt came into the room.

He came in quietly and cautiously, and there was a faded, fixed smile on his white face. In his right hand he carried a long-bladed knife that could be and probably was a carving knife.

The enlarged pupils of his eyes gave him a blind look, but he could see me all right, and he was looking and moving towards me.

The sight of those sightless eyes, the fixed smile and the carving knife brought me out in a cold sweat

‘Drop that knife, Barratt!’ I rapped out, and began to back away in search of a weapon.

He came on, slowly, rather like a sleep-walker, and I knew I should have to stop him before he cornered me. I made a sudden dive for the bed, grabbed up a pillow and flung it at him. It hit him in the face, sending him staggering, and I jumped for a chair, snatched it up as he came charging at me.

He ran slap on to the legs of the chair as I poked it at him. The collision sent both of us staggering, and as I recovered my balance and lifted the chair to hit him over the head, the girl jumped on my back, twining her arms round my throat, choking me.

I was getting rattled now and slammed against the wall with her as Barratt stabbed at me. I saw the flash of the knife and let out a yell, throwing myself sideways,

I and the girl sprawled on the floor. She was still clinging to me and her grip round my throat was making the blood hammer in my head.

I tore her hands away as Barratt bent over me. I thought I was a goner. I kicked out wildly, missed him, saw the blade flash up. I tried to roll clear, but knew it couldn’t be done. The girl under me was holding me. I couldn’t get my arms free; I couldn’t turn. The blade was aimed for my belly when there was a rush of feet; Barratt half turned, the knife thudded down into the floor an inch from my body; a short, square-shouldered man who had appeared from nowhere hit Barratt savagely on the head with what looked like a sandbag.

Barratt arched his back, shot away from me and dropped down on hands and knees. He tried to rise, flattened out, dragged himself to a half-sitting position as the square-shouldered man sprang at him and hit him again.

All this took about five seconds. The girl was still trying to strangle me and now she started to scream. I rolled over on my face, bringing her uppermost. I felt her being wrenched away and I staggered to my feet, as, screaming wildly, she flew at the square-shouldered man, her fingers clawing at his face.

He stood his ground, swept her hands away and hit her very hard on the temple with the sandbag. She dropped at his feet as if she had been pole-axed

He bent over her, lifted an eyelid, straightened and grinned at me.

‘Hello. You seem to be having quite a time. I heard you yell. Was he going to knife you or were you two playing a game?’

I wiped my face and the back of my neck with my handkerchief before saying, ‘He seemed a little worked up. I don’t think he knew what he was doing. He’s hopped to the eyes.’ I looked a little anxiously at the naked heap of arms and legs on the floor. ‘You hit her pretty hard. I hope you haven’t damaged her. She belongs to a client of mine.’ He waved an airy hand.

Don’t worry about her. You have to treat these junkies rough. Besides, I’ve had a bellyful of them these past three days. They’ve been fighting and screaming at each other non-stop, and I like my sleep.’

I continued to wipe my face and neck. I was sweating quite a lot. The long carving knife on the carpet gave me the horrors.

‘You live here?’ I asked.

For my sins. Just across the way. Nick Perelli’s the name, in case it interests you.’ I told him who I was.

I’m grateful to you. If you hadn’t hit that goon he would have stuck that knife into me.’

Perelli smiled. His swarthy, thin face had a jeering, humorous expression. He wasn’t a badlooking guy: a little like George Raft, come to think of it. His clothes were good, and he wore them well.

‘So you’re the fella who runs Universal Services, are you? That’s a nice racket. Wish it belonged to me.’

‘It has its low moments. This is one of them. I’d like to put it on record if there’s anything I can do for you now or in the future, let me know. It’ll be on the house, and you’ll get our Grade A service.’

‘I’ll remember,’ he said, and grinned. ‘Right now I’m pretty well fixed, but you never know.’ He stuck his toe into the girl’s side and gave her a little nudge. ‘Is this one of the services?’

‘One of the less pleasant ones. I came here to take her back to her father.’

Think he’ll be pleased to have her back? I wouldn’t be if she belonged to me. I wouldn’t want her back if she was going away with a yacht.’

I fetched the blanket and dropped it over her.

‘Her old man’s only one degree better than she is. What’s the bouncer downstairs going tosay when he sees me carrying her through the lobby?’

‘Maxie?’ Perelli laughed. ‘He’ll hang out the flags. He’s been longing to get rid of her, only Barratt scares him. I’m on my way to meet my girl. We can go down together. I’ll see he doesn’t bother you.’

‘Fine,’ I said. ‘I’d hate to be run in for kidnapping after what I’ve just been through.’

‘The bathroom’s through there if you want to tidy up,’ he said, pointing. ‘You look a bit of a wreck. I’ll watch her until you get back.’

I went into the bathroom and repaired the damage as best I could. Even after a wash and I had pinned up the torn lapel I still looked as if I’d been wrestling with a wild cat.

I came out, gathered up the unconscious girl in the blanket and heaved her over my shoulder.

‘Nice if she comes round in the car.’

‘She won’t,’ Perelli said with confidence. ‘When I sap them, they stay sapped.’

We got her into the elevator without anyone seeing us.

‘Do you usually carry a sandbag when you go to meet your girl friend?’ I asked as the elevator sank between floors, He grinned.

‘Never without one. I play cards for a living, and a cosh is the best way to settle postmortems. I get quite a few.’

‘Well, you certainly know how to use one.’

There’s nothing to it. The secret is to hit them hard. A tap only makes them mad.’

The elevator came to a silent stop and we marched out into the lobby.

The girl behind the desk started out of her chair and gaped at us. Her hand fluttered along the desk and one finger poked into the bell-push. The bouncer in the bowler hat materialized from behind his pillar like a jack-in-the-box. He look one look at me and the girl draped over my shoulder, made a growling noise deep down in his throat and started purposely towards me.

‘All right, Maxie; relax,’ Perelli said. ‘We’re only clearing out a little garbage. There’s no need to get excited.’

Maxie stopped in mid-stride. He stooped to peer at the girl, and as soon as he recognized her he lost his belligerent look.

‘Oh, her! Where are you taking her?’

‘What do you care so long as we take her?’ Perelli inquired.

Maxie chewed this over in his mind.

‘I guess that’s right. Hasn’t Barratt got anything to say about her going?’

‘He’s asleep at the moment,’ I said. ‘We thought it would be a shame to wake him up.’

Maxie eyed the scratches on my face and whistled softly.

‘Yeah. I guess I haven’t seen you two guys.’ He looked across at the girl behind the desk. ‘Did you hear, Grade? We ain’t seen nobody.’

The girl nodded and went back to her funnies. Maxie waved us to the door.

‘Careful there’re no cops around.’

We went down the steps into the sunshine. There were no cops around.

I laid the unconscious girl along the back seat of the Buick and closed the door.

‘Well, thanks again. It wouldn’t be an over-statement to say you saved my life.’ I gave Perelli my card. ‘Don’t forget; anywhere, any time, I’ll be glad to even the score.’

An easy thing to say, but the way it worked out I was scrabbling around like a monkey with a can tied to its tail, three weeks later, trying to make good my promise.

III

Jack Kerman, long, lean and dapper, lay full length on my divan; an immaculate figure in a bottle-green flannel suit, cream silk shirt and brown buckskin shoes. On his chest he balanced a highball, while he beat time a little drunkenly to the swing music coming from the radio.

Opposite him I relaxed in one of those down-to-the-ground easy chairs, and looked through the open windows at the moonlit Pacific, while I tried to make up my mind whether to go in for a swim or mix myself another drink.

Wingrove’s daughter was an almost forgotten memory; Perelli just another name. Ten days had gone past since I had returned the unconscious little junkie to the bosom of her family, and so far as I was concerned the case was closed.

‘It’s about time I had a vacation,’ Kerman said suddenly. This continual grind is giving me ulcers. What we should do is to shut up the office for a couple of months and go to Bermuda or Honolulu. I’m bored with the local talent in this burg. I want a little more fire; grass skirts instead of lounging pyjamas: something with a little zing in it. How about it, Vic? Let’s do it. We can afford it, can’t we?’

‘Maybe you can, but I’m damn sure I can’t. Besides, what would we do with Paula?’

Kerman took a long drink from his glass, sighed, and reached for a cigarette.

‘She’s your funeral. That girl is a menace. All she thinks about is money and work. You might tell her not to keep picking on me. To hear her talk, you’d think I don’t earn my keep.’

‘Do you?’ I said, shutting my eyes. ‘Do any of us? Anyway, a vacation is out, Jack. We’re getting on top and we’ve got to stay on top. If we shut the office, we’d be forgotten in a week. You can’t stand still in a job like this.’

Kerman grunted,

‘Maybe you’re right. I’ve a redhead who’s costing me a pile of dough. I don’t know what’s the matter with her. She thinks I’m made of money. Mind you, she’s not a bad little thing. She’s willing, and that’s what I like about a girl. The trouble with her is…’

The telephone bell began to ring.

Kerman raised his head and scowled at the telephone.

‘Don’t answer it,’ he advised. ‘It might be a client,’

‘Not at ten past ten,’ I said, hoisting myself out of the chair. It’s probably my past catching me up.’

‘Then you’d better let me handle her. I have a very nifty line with women on the telephone.’

I shied a cushion at him as I picked up the receiver.

‘Hello?’

A male voice asked, ‘Is that Mr. Malloy?’ A voice that would send an immediate prickle up most women’s spines. A voice that conjured up a picture of a tall, powerfully built man, probably sun-tanned and handsome, who would rather drop in for an afternoon cup of tea when her husband’s at the office than look in the evening when he’s at home.

Perhaps I was doing him an injustice, but that was the mental picture I got of him from the vibrating baritone voice.

‘Speaking,’ I said. ‘Who is that?’

‘My name is Lee Dedrick. I have been trying to get you at your office. There doesn’t appear to be anyone there.’

‘I’m sorry. The office closes at six.’

‘And sweat-shop hours at that,’ Kerman muttered, punching the pillow at the back of his head, ‘Tell him we’re in bed with the croup.’

The voice said sharply, ‘But surely you have a night service?’ ‘You’re talking to the night service now, Mr. Dedrick.’

‘Oh. I see.’ There was a pause, then he said, ‘I would like you to come out to my place right away. It’s rather urgent.’

In spite of the domineering tone, I had a sudden impression that he was frightened. There was a peculiar shake in his voice, and he seemed very breathless.

‘Can you give me some idea what you want, Mr. Dedrick?’ I asked, ignoring Kerman’s frantic signals to hang up.

There was a moment’s silence. I waited and listened to the uneven, hurried breathing.

‘A few minutes ago some man rang me up and warned me an attempt would be made tonight to kidnap me. Probably a practical joker, but I thought it wise to take precautions. I happen to be alone here, except for my chauffeur; he is a Filipino, and would be quite useless in an emergency.’

This sounded screwy to me.

‘Have you any idea why anyone should want to kidnap you?’

Again there was that pause. Again I listened to the hurried breathing. It was an eerie sound, and conveyed his fear to me as plainly as if I could seethe fear on his face.

‘I happen to be Serena Marshland’s husband,’ he said curtly. ‘I’d be glad if you wouldn’t waste time asking pointless questions. There’ll be time enough to satisfy your curiosity when we meet.’

I didn’t like his tone, but I knew he was scared. I didn’t want to go out on this job. I had been working all day, and would much rather have spent the rest of the evening swopping drinks with Kerman, But that wasn’t the way to build up a successful business. Besides, Serena Marshland was the fourth richest woman in the world.

‘Where are you, Mr. Dedrick?’

‘The house is called Ocean End. You probably know it. It’s rather isolated and lonely. I’d be glad if you would come quickly.’

I know it. I’ll be over in less than ten minutes.’

‘There is a private road from Ocean View. You’ll find the gates open. As a matter of fact, I have only just moved in here and…’ He suddenly stopped talking.

I waited, then as nothing happened, I said, ‘Hello?’

I could still hear his quick, uneven breathing, but he didn’t answer.

‘Hello? Mr. Dcdrick?’

His breathing went off the line. There was a long, silent pause, then a gentle click, and the line went dead.

IV

Ocean End is situated in the sand dunes, about three miles from my cabin. It was built in the late ‘twenties for a millionaire who never lived there. Before he could take possession, be was caught in a financial smash and shot himself. For some years the place stood empty, then a syndicate bought it and made a pot of money out of it by renting it to visiting fleshpots and foreign nobility who considered themselves too grand to stay at the Orchid Hotel.

The Estate is quite a show place, and has been advertised as the millionaire’s dream home. It has a hundred acres of terraced gardens and a swimming pool half outside the house and half under it. The house itself is Italian Baroque in style, and built of concrete and coraline stone. The interior is famous for wine magnificent murals and works of art.

As I sent the Buick racing along the two miles of private road that leads to the Estate, a fine, wide road, lined on either side by Royal Palms, Kerman said, ‘I’ve always wanted to see this joint.’ He leaned forward to peer into the circles of light that fled before us. ‘I’ve been kidding myself I’ll rent it for a week myself one of these days. What do you think it’d cost me?’

‘About ten years’ pay.’

‘Yeah, maybe you’re right. Well, I guess I’d better just go on kidding myself. Pity, though. With a background like this, I’d have that redhead eating out of my hand.’

‘Should have thought you’d have preferred her to eat off a plate. You know, I’m worried about this guy, Jack. What made him hang up like that in the middle of a sentence?’

‘You know what these punks are like. They’re so damn lazy it’s an effort for them to breathe.’

‘I have an idea someone came into the room, and he didn’t want them to hear what he was saying.’

‘But then you always try to make a mystery out of anything. My bet is he got bored talking to you and just hung up. All these rich jerks are alike. They don’t have to watch their manners the way we do.’

Ahead of me were the main gates of the Estate. They were wide open. I didn’t reduce speed. We flashed past them, and went storming up the road drive-way, banked on either side enormous rhododendron shrubs.

‘Must you drive as if we’re going to a fire?’ Kerman asked plaintively.

‘He sounded scared, and I have a hunch he may be in trouble.’

I swung the Buick around a long, curving bend. The house seemed to leap at us in the light of the headlamps. Kerman gave a gasp of alarm as I slammed on the brakes. With a squeal of tortured tyres, I managed to bring the Buick to a skidding standstill a couple of inches from the balustrade that surrounded the courtyard.

‘Why stop?’ Kerman said, mopping his face. ‘Why not drive slap into the house? You know I hate walking.’

‘Your nerves are bad,’ I said, a little pop-eyed myself. ‘The trouble with you is you drink too much.’

I got out of the car and he followed me.

Parked to the left of the front entrance was a big, glittering battleship of a car with the parkers on.

Except for a light that spilled through an open casement doorway on to the far end of the terrace, the house was in darkness.

‘Do we ring or go in that way?’ Kerman asked, jerking his thumb towards the lighted window.

‘We’ll take a look in there first. If no one’s around, we’ll ring. Got your gun handy?’

‘Here. You have it,’ Kerman said generously, and thrust the .45 into my hand. ‘It spoils the set of my suit.’

‘What you really mean is if I have the gun I naturally go first.’

‘What a sweet, charitable mind you’ve got. I honestly don’t know why I work for you.’

‘Probably for the money, and who but you calls it work?’

We were moving silently along the terrace while we whispered at each other, and as we neared the lighted window I motioned him to be quiet. He gave me a little shove forward, milking signals for me to go ahead.

I went ahead while he watched me. When I reached the open casement door, I peered into a long rectangular room, furnished in Mexican style with rich rugs on the floor, saddles and bridles ornamenting the walls and big, lounging settees by the windows and before the vast empty fireplace.

On the table were the telephone and an untouched tumbler containing whisky and probably soda. A cigarette stub had fallen off the glass ash-tray and burned a scar on the highly polished table.

There was no one in the room.

I beckoned to Kerman.

‘Pretty lush,’ he said, peering over my shoulder. ‘Imagine living in a joint like this. What do we do now?’

I walked into the room. The cigarette stub worried me; so did the untouched whisky.

Kerman sauntered in behind me and wandered around one of the settees before the fireplace to look at a Mexican saddle hanging on the wall. He took two steps towards it, then stopped with a start that flopped his hair into his eyes.

‘Gawd!’

I came around the settee fast.

A man in the black uniform of a chauffeur lay on his back. I didn’t have to touch him to know he was dead. There was a purple hole in the centre of his forehead, and a lot of blood had soaked into the Mexican rug on which he was lying. His yellow-brown hands were set rigid, his fingers were hooked like claws, and his small, brown face was twisted in a grimace of terror.

‘Sweet grief!’ Kerman said soberly. ‘He gave me a hell of a fright.’

I bent to touch the claw-like hand. It was still warm. The arm dropped to the carpet when I lifted and released it. He couldn’t have been dead for very long.

‘Looks bad for Dedrick,’ I said. ‘They must have arrived while he was talking to me.’

‘Think they’ve kidnapped him?’

‘Looks like it. Go ahead and call the police, Jack. There’s nothing we can do. You know how Brandon reacts to us. If he thinks we’ve been poking around, wasting time, hell raise Cain.’

As Kerman reached for the telephone, he paused, cocked his head on one side, listening.

‘Sounds like a car coming.’

I went out on to the terrace.

There was a car coming, and coming fast. I could bear the snarl of a powerful engine, and the whine of tyres as the car swept around the bends in the drive.

‘Hold it a moment,’ I said.

I could see the headlights of the car now through the trees. A moment later the car swept around the drive and pulled up a few yards from the Buick.

I walked along the terrace, and as I reached the head of the steps leading from the terrace to the garden a girl got out of the car.

In the dim, uncertain light of the moon and the combined parking lights of the three cars, I could just see she was tall, slender and hatless,

‘Lee…’

She paused, looking up at me.

‘Is that you, Lee?’

‘Mr. Dedrick doesn’t appear to be here,’ I said, and came down the steps towards her.

I heard her catch her breath sharply, and she made a half turn as if she was going to run away, but she controlled the impulse and faced me.

‘Who—who are you?’

‘My name’s Vic Malloy. Mr. Dedrick ‘phoned me about a quarter of an hour ago. He asked me to come out here.’

‘Oh.’ She sounded both surprised and startled. ‘And you say he isn’t here?’

‘He doesn’t seem to be. There’s only that light you can see showing. He isn’t in there. The rest of the house is in darkness.’

By now I was close enough to get a vague idea what she looked like. I could see she was dark and youngish and in evening dress. I had an idea she was pretty.

‘But he must be here,’ she said sharply.

‘May I ask who you are?’

For a fraction of a second she hesitated, then she said, ‘I’m Mary Jerome; Mrs. Dedrick’s secretary.’

‘I’m afraid I have a shock for you. Mr. Dedrick’s chauffeur is in there.’ I waved towards the lighted window. ‘He’s dead.’

‘Dead?’ I saw her stiffen.

‘He’s been shot through the head.’

She lurched forward, and I thought she was going to faint. I caught hold of her arm and steadied her.

‘Would you like to sit in the car for a moment?’

She pulled away from me.

"No; it’s all right. You mean he’s been murdered? ’

‘It looks like it. It’s certainly not suicide.’

‘What has happened to Lee—Mr. Dedrick?’

‘I don’t know. He telephoned me, saying someone had warned him he was going to be kidnapped. I came out here and found the chauffeur dead.’

‘Kidnapped? Oh!’ She drew in a quick, shuddering breath. He said that? Are you sure?’

‘Why, yes. We’re just going to search the house. We’ve only been here two or three minutes. Will you wait in your car? ’

‘Oh, no! I’ll look too. Why should they want to kidnap him?’

‘I asked him that. He said he was Serena Marshland’s husband.’

She pushed past me, ran up the steps and walked quickly along the terrace. I followed her.

Kerman came out and barred the way into the room.

‘I don’t think you should go in there,’ he said mildly.

‘Have you seen Mr. Dedrick?’ she demanded, staring up it him. The light from the room fell on her face. She was lovely in a hard, cold way, with good eyes and a firm mouth and chin. At a guess she would be about thirty, and not the type I would have expected to be a rich woman’s secretary. Her clothes were expensive-looking, and she wore a silk evening wrap over a winecoloured, strapless evening dress with the confidence and grace of a model.

Kerman shook his head.

‘Please look for him. Both of you. Search the house.’

I nodded to Kerman.

‘Phone the police first, Jack.’

Whilst Kerman was using the telephone, the girl went to look at the chauffeur. I watched her, saw the colour leave her face, but as I went to her, she pulled herself together and turned away.

‘Come out on to the terrace,’ I said. Kerman will look for Mr. Dedrick.’ I put my hand on her arm, but with a little shiver she shook it off and walked out on to the terrace again.

‘This is dreadful,’ she said. ‘I wish you would try and find Mr. Dedrick instead of hanging around me. Why did he ‘phone you? Does he know you?’

‘I run Universal Services. He’s probably seen one of our advertisements.’

She put her hand to her face, and leaned against the balustrade.

‘I’m afraid that conveys nothing to me. What is Universal Services? I have only been in Orchid City for a few hours.’

‘We handle any job from divorce to grooming a cat. Mr. Dedrick wanted a bodyguard, but I’m afraid we arrived a little late.’

I saw her flinch.

‘I can’t believe it. Please make sure he’s not in the house. He must be here!’

‘Kerman’s looking now. I understood from Mr. Dedrick that he had only just moved in here, and was alone with his chauffeur. Is that right?’

‘Mr. Dedrick has rented this house for the summer. Mrs, Dedrick and he have been staying for a few days in New York,’ she explained, speaking rapidly. ‘They have just come back from Paris. Mr. Dedrick flew from New York a few days ago. He went on ahead to make the arrangements about the house. Mrs. Dedrick arrives tomorrow. I came with him to make sure everything in the house was in order. We have rooms at the Orchid Hotel. Mr. Dedrick said he was going to look over the house this evening, I was to join him later,’

‘I see.’

Kerman came out on to the terrace.

"No one in the house,’ he said.

Take a look around the garden.’

He gave Mary Jerome a quick, interested look and went off down the terrace steps.

‘He’s never mentioned being kidnapped to you, has he?’

‘Oh, no.’

‘What time did he leave his hotel?’

‘At seven-thirty.’

‘He called me at ten past ten. I wonder what he was doing for two hours and forty minutes here. Have you any idea?

‘I suppose he was looking over the house. I wish you would go after your friend and help him. Mr. Dedrick might be lying in the grounds—hurt.’

I began to get the idea that she wanted to get rid of me.

‘I’ll stick around until the police come. We don’t want you kidnapped.’

‘I—I don’t think I can face any more of this. I’ll go bock to the hotel,’ she said, her voice suddenly husky. ‘Will you tell them, please? I’ll see them at the hotel.’

‘I think it would be better to wait until they come,’ I said quietly.

‘No; I think I’ll go. He—he may be at the hotel. I think I ought to go.’

As she turned, I caught her wrist

‘I’m sorry, but until the police come, you must stay.’

She stared up at me, her eyes hard in the moonlight.

‘If you think it is necessary.’

‘That’s the idea.’

She opened her bag.

‘I think a cigarette…’

She did it very smoothly. I found myself looking down at a .25, aimed at my midriff.

‘Go in there!’

‘Now, look…’

‘Go in there!’ There was a dangerous note in her voice. ‘I’ll shoot if you don’t go in!’

‘You’re playing it wrong, but have it your own way.’

I walked into the lounge.

The moment I heard her running down the terrace I jumped to the balustrade.

‘Head her off, Jack!’ I bawled into the darkness. ‘But watch out; she has a gun!’

Then I legged it down the terrace after her.

There came a spiteful crack of the .25, and a slug buzzed past my head. I dodged behind a tub of palms. More gun-fire, and an excited yell from Kerman. Then a car engine exploded into life; the gun fired again and the car went furiously down the drive.

I raced to the end of the terrace, intent on following her in the Buick, but she had taken care of that. Her last shot had gone through the off-side rear wheel.

Kerman came out of the darkness.

‘What goes on?’ he demanded indignantly. ‘She tried to shoot me.’

V

We sat together before the empty fireplace in the library while a stony-eyed cop stood by the door and watched us without appearing to do so.

We had told our stories to Detective Sergeant MacGraw, and now we were waiting for Brandon. As soon as MacGraw learned who Dedrick was, he said the Captain of Police would want to see us. So we waited.

In the next room a squad of the Homicide boys were at work, dusting for fingerprints, photographing the body and the room, and prowling around for clues.

There was a considerable amount of telephoning and coming and going of cars. After a while I heard a barking voice and I nudged Kerman,

‘Brandon.’

‘What a thrill for him to find us here,’ Kerman said, and grinned.

The cop scowled at him and moved restlessly. Unconsciously, he straightened his jacket and looked critically at his buttons. Captain of the Police Brandon was a martinet, and every cop on the Force was terrified of him.

Silence settled over us again like a film of dust. Another half-hour crawled past. The hands of my watch showed a quarter past midnight. Kerman was dozing. I longed for a drink.

Then the door forked open and Brandon and Detective Lieutenant Mifflin of the Homicide Squad came in.

I gave Kerman a nudge and he opened his eyes as Brandon paused to survey us the way a grand duke would look at a set of muddy footprints on his bed.

Brandon was short and thickset, with a round, fat pink-and-white face, a mass of chalk-white hair and cold, inquisitive eyes. He was an ambitious cop without being a clever one. He got results because he used Mifflin’s brains and took the credit. He had been Captain of Police for ten years. He owned a Cadillac, a seven-bedroom house; his wife had a mink coat, and his son and daughter went to the University. He didn’t live in that style on his pay. There were the usual rumours that he could be bought, but no one had ever attempted to prove it as far as I knew. He had been known to fake evidence and encouraged his cops to be brutal and ruthless. A man with a lot of power; a dangerous man.

‘So you two have horned in on this, have you?’ he said in his hard, rasping voice. I’ve never known such a pair of jackals.’

Neither of us said anything. Talk out of turn to Brandon and you’re liable to find yourself behind bars.

He glanced at the cop who was as rigid as a wooden effigy.

‘Out!’

The cop went out on tiptoe and closed the door as if it were made of egg-shells.

Mifflin gave me a slow, heavy wink from behind Brandon’s head.

Brandon sat down, stretched out his short, fat legs, pushed his hard pork-pie hat to the back of his head and fumbled for the inevitable cigar.

‘Let’s have it all over again,’ he said. ‘There’re one or two points I want to check. Go ahead, Malloy. Tell it the way you told it to MacGraw. I’ll stop you when I’ve had enough.’

‘Kerman and I were spending the evening in my cabin,’ I said briskly. ‘At ten minutes past ten the telephone bell rang, and a man who identified himself as Lee Dedrick asked me to come over here right away. He explained that some man had ‘phoned him and warned him that an attempt was to be made tonight to kidnap him.’

‘You’re sure he said that?’ Brandon asked, slitting the cellophane wrapping of his cigar with a well-manicured thumbnail.

‘Why, yes.’

‘There’s been no incoming calls to this house tonight. What do you make of that?’

‘Maybe he had the call at his hotel.’

‘He didn’t. We’ve checked that too.’

‘Any out-going calls from here, besides the one he made to me?’

Brandon rolled the cigar between his fat fingers.

‘Yeah, one to a call-box number. What of it?’

Mifflin said in his slow, heavy voice, ‘He could have been told during the day to call that number tonight, and got the warning that way.’

Brandon looked over his shoulder as if he wasn’t aware until now that Mifflin was in the room. Although he relied on Mifflin’s brains, he always acted as if Mifflin had no business to be on the Force.

‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘or Malloy could be lying.’ He looked at me, showing his small even teeth. ‘Are you?’

‘No.’

Tell me, why didn’t Dedrick call the police instead of you?’

I had an answer to that one, but I didn’t think he would like it. Instead, I said, ‘He wasn’t sure someone wasn’t pulling his leg. Probably he was anxious not to make a fool of himself.’

‘Well, go on. Tell me more,’ Brandon said, setting fire to the cigar. He rolled it around between his thin lips and stared heavily at me.

‘While he was talking, there was a sudden silence on the line. I called to him, but he didn’t answer. I could hear him breathing over the line, then he hung up.’

‘And that’s when you should have called Headquarters,’ Brandon snarled. ‘You should have known something was wrong.’

‘I thought maybe his chauffeur had come in, and Dedrick didn’t want him to hear what he was saying. I’m not all that crazy to mix up a man like Dedrick with the police without his sayso.’

Brandon scowled at me and flicked ash off his cigar.

‘You’d talk yourself out of a coffin,’ he said sourly. ‘Well, go on. You came out here and found Souki, That right?’

‘Souki? Is that the chauffeur’s name?’

‘According to the letters he had in his pocket, it’s his name. Did you see anyone on your way up; any car?’

‘No. As soon as we found the body I told Kerman to ‘phone your people. Before he could do so this girl arrived.’

Brandon pulled at his thick nose.

‘Yeah, now about this girl: what did she call herself?’

‘Mary Jerome.’

‘Yeah; Mary Jerome.’ He allowed a cloud of cigar smoke to obscure his face, went on, ‘She said she was Mrs. Dedrick’s secretary: right?’

‘Yes.’

‘She isn’t staying at the Orchid Hotel.’

I didn’t say anything.

‘Did she strike you as the secretary type?’

‘No.’

‘Do you think she had anything to do with Dedrick’s kidnapping?’

‘I doubt it. She seemed genuinely startled when I told her. And, besides, why did she come back here after Dedrick had been taken away if she knew?’

‘That’s right, Malloy,’ Brandon said, and gave me a foxy smile. ‘You’re on the right lines. She seemed upset, uh?’

‘That’s right.’

He sat farther down in the chair, stared up at the ceiling and rolled thoughts around in his mind. After a while, he said, ‘Now, look, Malloy, I want you to get this straight. When the Press are told about this snatch there’s going to be a lot of publicity and excitement. Dedrick’s wife is an important woman. She’s more than that: she’s a household name. And another thing, she’s got a lot of powerful friends. You and I could step off with the wrong foot if we’re not very careful. I’m going to be careful, and you’re going to do what you’re told.’

I looked at him and he looked at me.

‘It’s my bet this Jerome girl is Dedrick’sa mistress,’ Brandon went on. ‘It sticks out a mile. He comes down here to rent this house. Mrs. Dedrick stays in New York. We don’t know much about this guy, Dedrick. We haven’t had much time since this broke, but we’ve already done a little digging. The wedding was secret. These two met eight weeks ago in Paris, and got married. Old man Marshland, Mrs. Dedrick’s father, wasn’t told until the two of them arrived at his house in New York as man and wife. I don’t know why the marriage was secret unless Dedrick isn’t anything to shout about, and she thought it would be better to present him to Marshland as her husband and not as her husband-to-be. I don’t know, and it’s not my business. But it looks as if Dedrick was playing along with another woman, and this woman is Mary Jerome. It is pretty obviously they intended to spend the night together here, only Dedrick got kidnapped before he could stop her turning up. The facts fit together. You can see why she didn’t want to be questioned by the police, so she pulled a gun on you and cleared off before we turned up, and I don’t mind telling you, I’m glad she did clear off.’

He waited to see if I had anything to say, but I hadn’t. I thought it was likely he was right. The facts, as he had said, fitted together.

That’s why I wanted to have this little talk with you, Malloy,’ he went on, his cold eyes on my face. ‘Dedrick’s been kidnapped. Okay, that’s something we can do something about, but the other thing isn’t our business. You’re not to say a word about Mary Jerome, if you do, you’ll be sorry. I’ll take you both in as material witnesses and my boys will give you a working over every day you’re with us. I promise you that if any information gets into the Press about this woman. I’m not going to have any muck-raking in this case. Mrs. Dedrick is going to receive every possible consideration from me. It’s bad enough for her to lose her husband this way, but no one is to know her husband was cheating on her. Understand?’

I thought of Mrs. Dedrick’s possible powerful friends. Probably the Governor, who could crack Brandon on her say-so. He wasn’t looking after her interests or considering her feelings, he was safeguarding himself.

‘Yeah,’ I said.

‘Okay,’ Brandon said, getting to his feet. ‘Keep your traps shut, or you’ll regret it. You two get out of here, and stay out of here. If you try to horn in on this case, I’ll make you wish you were never born.’

‘That’ll be no new experience,’ Kerman said languidly as he drifted to the door. ‘Most mornings when I wake up I wish just that very thing.’

‘Get out!’ Brandon barked.

We got out.