Ladies of Chance

Chapter 9

A Jacksonville morning paper carried the story. I read it while I ate breakfast in a little joint near the station. I could read Pete’s work all the way through.

Green’s body hadn’t been found until almost eight o’clock. That was all to the good for me. There were at least three men that would swear I was on the train at that time — and no reason for anyone to think I hadn’t boarded it in Miami.

It hadn’t taken them long to get on Lucile’s trail — led by Pete, I suppose. The cops were waiting for her when she came back from the wild goose chase Pete’s phone message had sent her on.

The glove and earring matched with ones found in her room, and it hadn’t taken the sleuths long to turn up the beating she’d taken from Green that morning.

The news story had it all added up to a first degree murder charge. There wasn’t a word about me in the two column spread. Green was characterized as a small-time gunman, and the papers couldn’t be blamed for making Lucile his moll.

I looked up a friend in the insurance business after breakfast, told him I’d been having bad dreams lately, and wanted another policy on my lousy life. We spent the morning in his office figuring on different policies, had lunch together, and I left him that afternoon with my promise to let him know which one I wanted.

I killed time with a couple of lads on a local paper, picking up a copy of the Bugle just before it was time to catch a night train back to Miami.

Pete had more than done himself proud on the hints I’d dropped. He had the case all sewed up, ready to deliver to a jury. I took a sleeper going back, woke up in Miami at seven in the morning of what turned out to be a hectic day.

A flatfoot picked me up at the station. He wasn’t any too polite about escorting me to a patrol car and up to the courthouse where the State’s Attorney was waiting to ask me plenty of questions.

He was Jerome Lester, a nice guy. Lucile had spilled the dope before Blattscomb got to her to shut her up, and Lester had it all down in black and white.

At that, it didn’t do him much good. He was apologetic about it when he started, and kept getting more so as I raved just enough and denied everything.

They couldn’t pin a damned thing on me. Lester got friendly after asking all the questions in his book, admitted that Lucile’s story looked like a desperate effort to drag an innocent man in with her.

I admitted knowing Lucile, admitted spending the night with her and being in her room that afternoon. Just to make it sound good, I put in a few details about Lucile being upset and how I’d had a premonition that she was going to pull something.

It went over swell. Lester was apologizing when I left his office at nine o’clock. As far as I could see, I was all the way in the open. The coast was clear for me to follow up the leads I’d collected.

A fat man was waiting at the elevator when I came out of Lester’s office. His jowls were blue-black, his nose was flat, flared at the base. He was bald and had the keenest eyes I ever saw.

He followed me into the elevator and touched my arm as it started down. “If I could have a word with you, Mr. Barlow.”

“More monkey business? I thought the trip to Lester’s office cleared it.”

He coughed and took a card from a pigskin case. I looked at it as we got out at the main floor. Herman Blattscomb!

I said: “I just got in from Jax. Walk up to my hotel with me?”

He nodded and we swung along Flagler without saying anything. I bought a Bugle and we went up to my room. The flatfoot had sent my bag up after shooing me into Lester’s office.

With the door closed behind us, the lawyer sat down with a sigh and mopped his broad face with a white silk handkerchief.

“Perhaps you know I’ve been retained for Mrs. Travers’ defense.”

I got down a bottle and raised my eyebrows invitingly.

He shook his head regretfully. “I’m on a strict diet.” He folded his hands over his paunch and watched me down one.

When I set the glass down, he leaned forward and said: “I’ll be blunt with you, Barlow. The lady has told me her story — and I believe her.”

I sat down. “So what?”

“That remains to be seen,” he said softly.

“I’ve got an airtight alibi.”

He nodded, those bright eyes of his fixed on mine. “I supposed you would have.”

I poured myself another small snifter. Drank it and lit a cigarette with his eyes following my every movement as though they were important.

“The State’s Attorney gave me a clean bill of health,” I told him.

He nodded.

His silence was getting me. I walked up and down the room. “What the hell do you want?”

“Are you going to let an innocent woman go on trial for her life?”

“She deserves a medal for bumping Green.”

“Perhaps a medal is deserved. Not by my client.”

“They don’t convict good-looking dames of murder in Florida.”

He raised white eyebrows. “I’m not afraid of a conviction.”

“Then what are you squalling about?”

He looked away from me. Out the window. “I’ve already advised Mrs. Travers to plead guilty to justifiable homicide. The man threatened her again when she met him on the beach. He was insane with jealousy. He had a gun in a clip holster, and she knew he always carried one. There won’t be an indictment.”

“Why the hell were you throwing it at me about letting an innocent woman go on trial?”

“I was interested to know what your reactions would be.”

“To hell with it.” The guy was beginning to get on my nerves.

“Ah.” The smile went away from his face. “There are certain other interests involved...” he began.

“I’m tired and I’m not interested in anything you’ve got to say,” I broke in. “Suppose you do your speculating elsewhere.”

He got up, surprisingly agile for a man of his weight. He moved toward the door, turned to face me. “I believe I know why you found it necessary to eliminate Harry Green. I may keep the information to myself.” He went out the door while my jaw was hanging open stupidly.

I couldn’t, believe Blattscomb was hooked up with the gambling syndicate. The way I read it, Lucile must have blabbed everything and Blattscomb was feeling around to see how he could make the best use of his information.

It was up to me to get the jump on him by tearing the thing wide open before he made up his mind.

I called Pete and gave him the phone number the girl who called herself Cherry had given me that night at Lucile’s. He promised to call back with the address in half an hour. I’d already made up my mind to use the Walla Walla gag and visit the gambling house after dark. There was half a day to kill and I had a hunch Cherry would be worth culitvating — in more ways than one.