Ladies of Chance

Chapter 24

I backed away from him. “What the hell is this?”

“I guess you know what it is, brother. Gonna come along nice or do you wanta be handled?”

I was backed up against the table where the dictograph switch was concealed. I didn’t know whether Pete was on the other end or not. I started to put one of my hands behind me to throw the switch.

That was pretty near a fatal mistake. The nearest cop grunted, “No yuh don’t,” and his finger tightened on the trigger. I reached for the ceiling just in time to save myself a slug in the belly.

The cuffs clicked on my wrists and the cops frisked me, then stepped back and let me put my hands down. Cherry was standing near the door watching with a curious mixture of triumph and disgust on her face. I scratched the back of my hip and got the switch turned on while protesting:

“This is a hell of a note. Where’s your warrant? You haven’t got any right to come in and pull a pinch like this?”

“He says we ain’t got no right,” the bulkier cop said with a sneer to his companion. “Him, a rape artist. You’ll be damn lucky if we take you to jail, guy,” he went on to me. “We could take you down on Flagler and spread the word around about what you done to this little girl. A set of bars will look good compared to what you’d get from a mob.”

“This is a goddamn frame,” I yelled. “You’re nuts if you’re taking that frail’s word for anything. Rape? My God in heaven! She hasn’t been raped since she was twelve.”

The smaller cop cracked me on the cheek with the back of his hand. “Shut your dirty mouth and come along.”

“You’ll have to drag me. I’m not going anywhere without raising plenty of hell. The city will pay plenty for a false arrest.”

“Slap him down, Sam,” the big cop advised. “Don’t take none of his lip.”

“Yeh. Come on.” I was shoved toward the door. “We got the affidavit all swore out proper. They’ll tell you about it at headquarters.”

Still no sign of Pete. I didn’t know whether he was listening in the next room, nor what he could do if he was.

Cherry stood aside as they pushed me to the door. There was more scorn than triumph on her face.

“Satisfied?” I barked at her.

She nodded her head slowly. She didn’t say anything. They rushed me down the stairs and out the back way to a radio patrol car. I had a ride up First Street to the police station where the desk sergeant booked me and they hustled me across the street and up an elevator to a neat little cell.

It was just like that. I got cussed out every time I opened my mouth to protest. Rape isn’t a nice charge below the Mason and Dixon line. And Miami is hell-and-gone below the line. I tried to tell them who I was and tried to get them to call Grange, but I was a scummy bastard to those Cracker cops and they weren’t putting out any favors to scummy bastards.

The cell was clean and airy. One of the best cells I’ve ever been in. My outer window gave onto a sweeping view of downtown Miami, the bay, and the beach. I looked through the latticed bars and said, out loud, “What the hell?”

It’s funny how fast news gets around in jails. The guys in the cells on both sides of me knew what I was in for almost as soon as I realized it. One was a thick-necked, furtive-eyed thug with syphilis sores on his face. He chortled at me through the bars and wanted to know if the stuff I got was worth doing a hitch for the getting of it.

My cell-mate on the other side was a scrawny hunk of nothing who insisted on whispering through the bars that when the communists killed Roosevelt and seized the government that rape would be no more of an offense than reckless driving.

There was an assortment of drunks across the corridor who amused themselves by cussing me for a Yankee sonofabitch not good enough to lick the feet of a Southern girl.

Between them all, I didn’t have any chance to get lonesome.

They let Pete in to see me after I’d been there about an hour. He had to stand outside the cage and talk to me through the iron.

He was breathing hard and looked plenty worried.

“I got to the hotel just after they dragged you out. Got hold of Grange and he’s been pulling strings all over town without getting anywhere. The Bugle has been pulling some fast ones on the police, and are they tickled to have a Bugle man where they’ve got you. They’ll put you under the jail if you can’t talk yourself out of it, Ed.”

“To hell with that,” I told him. “I’m not worrying about doing a stretch. I’m worrying about tonight. Any more dope on what’s up?”

“Plenty. The Times’ raid is marked down for a little after midnight. Is this tied up with it?”

“Yeh. The gal that swore out the complaint is in with the gang. Her testimony won’t be worth a goddamn after they turn her up for what she is. But I can’t afford to stay here tonight even.”

“Maybe you can’t afford to... but I’ve got a hunch you’re not going any place else.”

“With the whole case blowing up in my face? You got to do something, Pete.”

“Yeh? I can’t whistle you out. Why in hell did you have to rape the girl? There’s plenty to be had without going that far.”

I told him to shut up. Talking about it didn’t make me feel any better. Then I told him about the letter I’d written Sandra — about my plan of getting her into my room and dragging the dope from her to play up the real story behind the Times’ premature raid.

He groaned in deep disgust at me for letting things get balled up, and promised to hang around the hotel to do what he could with her if she showed up.

That was all I could do. Sit down and twiddle my thumbs. I enjoyed planning how I would strangle Cherry while I sat there and twiddled my thumbs. Her neck was round and soft. I curved my fingers and could feel the pulsing of her throat between them.

Not too hard. I didn’t want it to be too sudden. I wanted her to feel herself going. I wanted her to look up into my face and writhe and beg for mercy — without being able to beg — with my fingers cutting off her breath.

That was a pleasant occupation for my mind. I’ve always enjoyed planning ways of killing people I hate. I’ve carried a load of hatred around with me at different times, but never such a dose as I had for Cherry as I sat in my cell and waited for the Times to pull their raid and spoil my party.

It made me sick at my stomach to remember that I had been on the verge of falling for her. I was sorry I hadn’t been rougher with her when I had the chance.

Things got mixed up in my mind. They do when a man is under as much strain as I was. The borderline of madness isn’t a hell of a lot removed from any of us when we’re normal. It was less than that removed from me while I looked at my clawed hands and thought I could feel Cherry’s throat between them.

And me sitting in a barred cell.

I couldn’t stay away from the window. It seemed to me I could pick out the cluster of lights on Weston Avenue that was the gambling joint. I could see the squads of police gathering around — with Times’ reporters getting in the way. The Bugle would have men there, too, of course, but it was the Times’ play. All my work gone to hell.

Who the hell was the Times’ man that had put it over on me? How much could he have gotten hold of? Everything but Sandra, perhaps.

Not her. I made myself believe I was the only newspaper man with a line on her.

But that wasn’t any good now. She’d be in Mexico by the time I got out of the mess I was in. We couldn’t even run the story without something to back it up.

How would Pete make out with her if she came to the hotel? It wouldn’t be any good. He could grab her, but what the hell would he have? I didn’t think he’d be smart enough to get her to talk. That was what we needed. And I’d had it planned so perfectly.

Except for one thing I hadn’t calculated on.

Myself.

I laughed at the drunks for their cussing me. I doubled everything they said. I was the goat, all right. A damned goat. Letting a frail drive me out of my head.

I goddamned myself for a fool until it got monotonous. A guard came down the corridor jangling a bunch of keys. He unlocked my cell and said:

“Snap it up.”

I snapped it up to the office with the jailbirds behind me yelling bloody hell to be let out to join the mob they figured was waiting to hang me from a telegraph pole on the corner of Flagler and Miami Avenue.

Blattscomb was waiting for me in the office. He signed some papers and they told me I could go with him. I went without asking any questions.

He had his car waiting in the basement. We got in and he drove me to my hotel. He didn’t say a word to me and I didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t want to expose any of my cards by saying too much, and I didn’t know how much was too much.

He let me out and drove away. I went in through the lobby and up to my room. Before I opened the door, I smelled a peculiar odor that made me shiver. I gritted my teeth and pushed the door open.

Sandra was sitting in a deep chair — alone.