Nemesis

Chapter XII

“Tonelli keeps his boat just North of Belmont harbor,” Sergeant Erlangen said.

The judge gave the instructions to his chauffeur and settled back beside Larry.

“I don’t know just what we’re going to learn tonight,” he said. He smiled and adjusted his gray Homburg slightly. “But it should be interesting.”

There wasn’t anything to say. So Larry kept quiet.

They drew up at the gravelled road that led to the harbor fifteen minutes later. The docks were dark. There were few boats putting out at this time of the year. They walked past a half-dozen sloops, still covered with their winter tarps, until they came to Tonelli’s boat, a forty-foot cabined cruiser. There was a light showing from the cabin. The soft throb of its powerful engines was the only sound in the dark stillness. A gang plank led from the harbor to the deck. Larry saw the name of the ship, Mermaid, gleaming against the sleek mahogany hull.

And he saw a man standing at the foot of the gangplank. A big, slouching man in gray clothes and a gray hat that shaded his face.

The man pushed the hat back on his forehead and Larry recognized Meyers, the city detective. A cigarette hung from his lips making a pin-point of light in the half-darkness.

The judge drew up short. “We’re here to see Tonelli.”

Meyers chuckled. “I am too. I just thought I’d wait until the whole party got here.” His eyes moved over to Larry. “Couldn’t take my advice, eh?”

“I don’t understand,” the judge said “Who are you?”

“No mystery. I’m Meyers, Bureau of Detectives. You’re Judge Mills, aren’t you?”

“Why do you want to see Tonelli?” the judge asked.

“Just got a few questions to ask him,” Meyers said. He glanced from the judge to Sergeant Erlangen inquiringly. The judge said, “This is Sergeant Erlangen of Homicide. Meyers, we won’t need you on this matter. I’ve already talked to the Commissioner and—”

“That’s all right,” Meyers said. He waved a hand negligently. “I’m not going to be in the way. The boss sent me down here though, so you see my position, judge. I’ve got to earn my salary.”

The judge stood still for a moment, then made a tiny gesture of impatience. “Very well. Come along.”

Larry followed the judge up the gangplank. Behind him were the two detectives. The judge paused briefly on the deck, then walked along a narrow companionway and pulled open the door of the cabin. An oblong of light fell across the corridor.

They went inside.

Tonelli was seated at a desk, his back to one wall of the cabin. There were bunks against the opposite wall. A passage way led to a small galley. The furniture was polished mahogany, the fittings were neat and luxurious.

Tonelli came half way to his feet. He looked from the judge to Larry and the two detectives. Then he sank back slowly in his chair. He wore a white shirt and blue jacket and his features gradually assumed an expression of amiable surprise.

He began to strip the cellophane from a thin cigar with slow, deliberate motions.

“An honor,” he murmured. “I wasn’t expecting company, but—,” he waved a hand carelessly, “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks you,” the judge said. “I’m Judge Mills. Two of these men with me are police officers, the other—,”

Tonelli smiled at Larry and said, “I know the other guy, judge. He sees things. He lives in a private little world of his own, don’t he?”

“We’re here to ask the questions,” the judge said.

Tonelli leaned back in his chair and busied himself lighting his cigar. His smooth cheeks and deliberate, unhurried attitude gave an impression of complete assurance. But his eyes were watchful.

“So? Ask your questions.” He blew smoke at the ceiling and smiled carelessly. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Meyers drifted over to a stool and sat down. He put his hands around one knee and leaned back. His square gray face was impassive. He let ash from his cigarette dribble down his vest and he kept his eyes on the floor. He looked bored.

Sergeant Erlangen stepped back into the shadows. The judge faced Tonelli over the desk. Larry stood at his right.

“We’re here about a murder,” the judge said. “The murder of a girl named Velma Dare. She was stabbed to death yesterday morning. She left your place with this gentleman here the night before. What do you know about it?”

Tonelli yawned. “Sorry I can’t act impressed, judge. I heard all this crap before. This guy,” he jerked a thumb at Larry, “was playing the same record to me yesterday. Not about the murder part, but he claims he met the girl in my joint. The bartender never saw him, nobody saw him, but—,”

Meyers coughed apologetically. “Were you going to say nobody saw him, but a dice girl named Corinne?”

“I was like hell. Nobody by that name ever worked for me. That was another part of his story.”

“A girl called Corinne got herself killed last night,” Meyers said conversationally. “Did you know that?”

“No.” He looked sharply at Meyers. “That’s news to me.” There was a band of sweat starting on his forehead. “So she got killed,” he snapped. “Lots of girls get killed. Read the papers. It happens all the time.”

The judge said, “I didn’t know about this.” There was ice in the look he gave Tonelli. “You’re lying, Tonelli. We can prove, I think, that you knew Velma Dare.”

There was a change in Tonelli’s expression. He actually looked puzzled. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I guess you can at that. But it won’t do you any good.”

Meyers said, “Can I say a word, judge?” Without waiting for an answer he went on, talking in a musing, thoughtful voice. “I got to earn that salary of mine, that’s all. Now I thought a lot about this case. A guy tells me he woke up with a dead girl in bed with him. We believe him. But there ain’t no body. We look everywhere and we can’t find a body. So we figure the guy is batty. And then the guy goes back to where he met the girl. The Kicking Horse. And nobody there knows him. They don’t remember seeing him, or the girl, or anything. They’re so blind, all of a sudden, they should get seeing eye dogs.”

He looked at Tonelli and then at the judge. The judge shrugged impatiently. “My line of inquiry was getting better results,” he said drily.

“I’ll be through in a minute. Now what does a set-up like that mean. Just one thing: a frame, usually. But not this time. The fall guy wasn’t somebody they wanted out of the way. He was just an ordinary guy. So then it begins to look like they want the girl out of the way and also provide the cops with a murderer. Now I wondered for a while why they should go to all that trouble. After all they could shoot the girl and dump her body in a vacant lot. That’s done all the time. Why go to the trouble of delivering the cops a murderer, right on a silver platter? Then when we couldn’t find the girl’s body I began to understand. The girl was dangerous. They had to get her out of the way. But she was a gal that was pretty well known. And if she was found murdered her death would point right to whoever did it. Do you get me? They had to provide a fall guy, so the cops would be satisfied. So they wouldn’t start looking for the real murderer.”

He lit another cigarette. Larry looked at the judge. He was listening attentively now. And Tonelli was staring at the top of his desk. His cigar had gone out. He didn’t bother relighting it. The other copper was just a shadow in the background.

Meyers went on. “When the body didn’t show up, I knew I was right. The frame fell through. The fall guy beat it before the coppers got here. So the murderer was in a spot. He had a dead body and no murderer. When the Cops found that body it was going to point right at him. So he had to get rid of the body. He did that. And then he sat back hoping the fall guy wouldn’t start talking. But the fall guy was nosey. He was worried. And he kept walking around, asking a lot of questions, and seeing the wrong people, and things started getting hotter and hotter.” He smiled at the tip of his cigarette and then looked sharply at Tonelli. “Didn’t they Tonelli?”

Tonelli said, “You’re a wise bastard. Try and prove any of that and see what it gets you.”

“Oh, I’ll prove it,” Meyers said. “I’ve got a search warrant in my pocket for this boat. I’ll bet we find something pretty interesting down in the hold. I’m betting we find a dead blonde with her feet stuck in a tub of concrete.”

Tonelli stood up suddenly. His eyes looked a little crazy.

“You’re not going to get me for this,” he said.

“Shut up,” the judge snapped. “You’ve played out your luck, Tonelli. I know Velma was your mistress. You wanted to get rid of her but if she was found murdered too many people would be looking at you. So you figured out this very clever, frame-up. You intended to get rid of Velma, tie it on this poor fool here, and be perfectly in the clear yourself. Didn’t you?”

Tonelli cursed. “You’re pretty smart,” he snarled. “But not smart enough to pull this.” He bent suddenly and jerked open the drawer of his desk.

Before he could make another move two shots blasted the silence.

Tonelli jerked as the bullets hit him. He leaned against the desk, bracing himself with his hands. His eyes were on the judge. He opened his mouth twice, but no sound came out. His face twisted and he tried to hold himself erect, but his hands suddenly gave way and he sprawled across the desk.

There was no sound in the cabin. Meyers hadn’t moved. His hands were still laced around his knee. There was the smell of cordite in the air.

The judge looked thoughtfully at the gun in his hand. He blew the smoke from the barrel and watched it curl up against the light.

“You’d better take the gun, Meyers,” he said, matter-of-factly. “This wasn’t very orthodox, but I didn’t have a chance to think about the niceties of the situation. It was fortunate I had a weapon.” He extended it, butt foremost, to Meyers. “For the record it might be better to explain that you did the actual shooting.” He smiled sardonically. “My political opponents might make a fuss if they learned the complete story.”

Meyers got to his feet with a grunt. He took the gun and held it idly in his big hand.

“They’ll probably make a fuss anyway, judge,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

The gun in Meyers’ hand rose slowly until the barrel pointed at a spot just above the judge’s breast pocket handkerchief. He was smiling contentedly.

“You’re under arrest, judge. For killing Velma Dare. And Tonelli. Tonelli doesn’t make much difference. He deserved it. But you’re the little boy I’ve been looking for.”

“You’re insane!” Judge Mills said flatly. He turned to the other detective. “Sergeant Erlangen, I demand that you—”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, shut up,” Meyers said wearily. “Erlangen isn’t any more a cop than you are. He’s just another of your paid punks.”

“Meyers,” the judge said, “you’re making a mistake. I warn you to go slowly.”

He walked toward Meyers until there was only six inches between his chest and the gun in Meyers’ hand. He was directly under the light bulb.

Larry saw him swing for the bulb at the same instant that Erlangen dug his hand into his pocket.

Darkness closed in on the cabin and two shots sounded. Larry dove across the cabin at Erlangen. He caught the man around the waist and went to the floor with him. Something hard and cold struck him twice across the forehead. Lights flashed inside his head, but he hung on.

He shifted his grip higher and caught the man about the throat. With one hand he dug for a windpipe and was rewarded by a sound of tortured gurgling. His free hand he used as a club.

He pounded that face with a fury that was like something hot and fiery inside his chest. There was the memory of his own horror and fear, the memory of a girl named Corinne, and a lot of other things behind his blows.

The figure beneath him stopped squirming eventually.

A match flared and Meyers’ voice said, “Nice going. That guy don’t look pretty.”

“How about the judge?”

“I got him,” Meyers said.

He raised the match and let its flickering light spread around the cabin.

Tonelli still lay sprawled across the desk. The judge was on the floor, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. His shirt front looked like someone had emptied a can of tomatoes on it.

“Well,” Meyers said, “that’s that. The old lady’s food will start tasting good again.”