Nemesis

Chapter X

He didn’t sleep much that night.

About six in the morning he dropped into an uneasy doze; when he woke the sun was streaming in the window and Fran was standing beside the bed with a cup of coffee.

It was ten in the morning.

He didn’t feel rested. He felt lousy. He drank the coffee and it didn’t help much. He put on a robe and slippers and got the telephone number from his watch pocket. It was Summerville 8649. He didn’t know where it was going to lead, but he intended to keep following every lead he got until he learned something.

He sat down beside the telephone stand and lit a cigarette. Then he dialed the department maintained by the telephone company. He gave the operator the number and she said, “One moment, please.” A little later she said, “I’m sorry, sir, that is an unlisted number. We can’t give you the address.”

He hung up slowly. He smoked the cigarette down and put it out. Then he dialed Summerville 8649. The phone buzzed twice before a suave voice said, “Yes?”

Larry talked quickly. “This is the proof department of the City Directory. We’re checking addresses for our next issue. Could you give me your address so we can check against our directory listing?”

There was a long pause. Then the suave voice said, “I’m sorry. This is an unlisted phone.” Larry heard a click as the receiver was replaced.

He swore softly. There must be some way to get the address of an unlisted phone. He remembered then a friend of his, Charlie Barret, an employee of the telephone company, had told him once that it could be done.

He called Charlie Barret. When he told him what he wanted Barret was dubious. “I can do it for you, Larry, but it’s against all our regulations. Are you sure this is important?”

“Of course,” Larry said.

“All right. It might take a little while. But I’ll get it. And keep this quiet, will you?”

Larry spent the afternoon waiting for the phone call. When it came he grabbed the phone nervously. He said, “Yes?”

“This is Charlie. I got it. But I waited until I got home to call you. I couldn’t talk from an office phone.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“Summerville 8649 is registered for Judge Avery Mills. The address is 1000 Lake Shore Drive, suite eleven-B.”

“Judge Avery Mills,” Larry repeated slowly. He was writing on the telephone pad.

“That’s it. 1000 Lake Shore Drive. Suite eleven-B.”

“I got it. Thanks a million, Charlie.”

He hung up and looked at the name. Judge Avery Mills. It didn’t mean much to him. He had heard it now and then. Mills was a Circuit Judge, a fairly young man, and well thought of, politically.

Well he would know more about it damn soon...

Chapter XI

It was eight o’clock when he got out of the cab at 1000 Lake Shore Drive. The building was new, glittering and impressive.

He went inside, crossed the lobby to the elevator. It was the self-service type. He pressed the button numbered eleven and the doors closed and he started upward.

He didn’t think of where he was going or what he was getting into. He had no more caution left. He had to know what was behind the things that had happened to him. There had been two murders. There had been an attempt to frame him. And until he knew why he couldn’t stop going.

He rang the door of eleven-B and waited. The corridor was wide, well lighted and carpeted in thick gray. Everything about the building looked secure, protected and prosperous.

The door opened and a butler looked at him with raised eyebrows. He was an elderly, with a lined face, blue-veined hands and the impleccable air of the life-long retainer.

“I want to see Judge Mills,” Larry said.

“I’m afraid that is impossible,” the butler said. “His Honor sees no one without an appointment.”

“Give him a message then,” Larry said. “Maybe he’ll make an exception this time. Tell him I want to see him about the murder of a girl named Velma Dare.”

The eyebrows went a little higher but that was the only indication the butler gave that the news was anything more startling than a comment about the weather.

“Very well. Will you wait, please?”

The door closed.

Larry lit a cigarette and waited. In a few moments the butler was back.

“Will you come with me, please?” he said.

Judge Avery Mills was standing before a marble fireplace, with a leather-bound book in his hands. He was a tall man with graying hair, alert, lean features, and brown eyes that looked humorous and friendly.

He wore a velvet smoking-jacket over a white silk shirt. He fitted the room perfectly. It was quiet, gracious, tasteful. And the Judge gave the same impression of cultivation and breeding.

The butler said, “This is the young man, sir.”

The judge smiled. “All right, Henry. You may leave us now.”

“I’ll be right outside, sir,” the butler said with a dubious look at Larry.

“Well, young man,” Judge Mills said, when the butler had closed the door, “You almost scared Henry to death. Now what’s this all about?”

He seated himself and waved Larry to another chair. He drew a pipe from his pocket and began to fill it carefully. “There are cigars beside you,” he said.

“No thanks,” Larry said. “I’m here about a girl known as Velma Dare. She has been murdered. And I got your phone number from a friend of hers.”

“I see,” Judge Mills said. He puffed at the pipe thoughtfully. “And what conclusion do you draw from that?”

“You knew her,” Larry said.

“Quite so. May I ask what your interest in this matter is?”

“Not until I find out what you know about Velma Dare.”

“Oh, come now,” the judge smiled. “Surely you must realize your position isn’t that strong. You are here without authority, and you want to put me on the witness stand. I know Velma Dare. I’ve known her for quite some time. I don’t know what to make of your story. I think you owe me something more in the way of explanation.”

Larry said, “Someone tried to frame me for her murder. I woke up beside her yesterday morning. She had a knife stuck in her. I got out before the police arrived.”

“Tell me this: how do you know the dead girl was Velma Dare.”

“I got that from a girl who worked at the Kicking Horse.”

“My dear young man,” Judge Mills said, “You have an amazing way of introducing testimony. Suppose you tell me the whole story.”

Larry knew he was in so deep already that it didn’t matter. He told his story. When he finished the judge was frowning at his pipe.

“Against all my cautious instincts, I believe you,” he said slowly. “Now I’ll tell you a few things you don’t know. Velma Dare was a relation of mine, a distant cousin. From time to time I’ve helped her out financially. She was a very independent sort of person, however, and she would never take more than a few dollars. Just enough to pay a week’s board, or something like that. She always made a point of paying me back as soon as her luck turned. I haven’t seen her now for several months. I find it hard to believe she is dead.”

“Take my word for that,” Larry said. “She’s as dead as you can get.”

“I see,” the judge said. He ran a hand slowly through his graying hair and leaned back against the chair. For a moment he said nothing. Then: “And what do you propose to do now?”

“I don’t know,” Larry told him. “But I’m not quitting.”

“In that case perhaps I can help you,” the judge said. “What did you say that man’s name was? The proprietor at the Kicking Horse?”

“Tonelli.”

“Then supposing we pay a call on Mr. Tonelli? Perhaps he’d be a little more cooperative with me. I don’t know the man. But I seem to remember hearing a few things about him. Things that aren’t too savory.”

“I don’t think it will help,” Larry said. “He’ll tell you I’m either crazy or drunk.”

“Maybe we can make him a little more talkative than that,” the judge said. “I think we can take an ace in our sleeve with us.”

“What do you mean?”

“I certainly wouldn’t walk in on Tonelli alone. If he’s guilty or if he knows something, there’s only one way to make him talk. And that is to convince him our suspicions are backed by the police.”

“The police won’t listen to me,” Larry said.

“They’ve put no stock at all in your story?”

“They think I’m nuts,” Larry said.

Judge Mills smiled. “They will probably think I am too, but they can’t afford to say so. I’m going to call the commissioner and ask him to send one of his men to meet us at the Kicking Horse. That might convince Tonelli we aren’t just bluffing. The police are an admirable institution when they’re on your side. Or maybe you know that?”

“I get what you mean,” Larry said.

The judge walked to a cradle phone on a table beside the fireplace. He dialed a number and winked at Larry. “The commissioner will not be pleased. He would like to tell me to go to hell, but I’m sure he’s too good a politician to do anything—” He broke off, spoke into the phone. “Let me talk to the Commissioner, please. This is Judge Mills. Yes, thank you.” He tapped his foot impatiently for a moment. Then: “Hello, Jimmy. Did I disrupt the bridge game? Sorry... As usual I want a favor. But just a little one this time. I want a little protection, a little authority, a little official backing, as it were, for a little extra-curricular activity I’m planning tonight.” He chuckled. “I’m not going to get into trouble. I just need one of your men for a little while. You must have a few captains or lieutenants that aren’t busy... Very well, a sergeant will be fine. Have him meet us at the Kicking Horse in about fifteen minutes... It is not a burlesque house. All right? Fine, Jimmy. Good night.”

He hung up and nodded at Larry. “The power of the Bench,” he said dryly. “Now. Do you want to leave a message here in case someone calls? Or did you tell anyone you were coming to see me?”

“No.”

“Very well. I’ll change and be with you in just a moment.”

A man in a dark suit and a gray hat met the judge’s car at the Kicking Horse.

He opened the door and stuck a blank, wide face into the tonneau of the car.

“Judge Mills?” he asked. “The commissioner sent me down here to meet you.”

“Yes. And you are?”

“Sergeant Erlangen, Homicide. What do you want me to do, Judge?”

The judge was out of the car, Larry behind him.

“I want you to look like a suspicious detective,” the judge smiled. “I am going into this place to talk to the owner. I want you to stand near me and lend a little moral support. That’s all.”

Sergeant Erlangen said, “Very well, sir. No arrests, or anything.”

“Possibly. I’ll tell you if I find your role demands any other activity.”

He took Larry by the arm. “Let’s go inside. I think I’m going to enjoy this. She was one of my favorite people. We can do this much for her, anyway.”

They walked through the Kicking Horse to the rear of the barroom, where a narrow corridor led to Tonelli’s office.

A slim, dark haired young man in a tuxedo was standing there, eyeing the room, puffing nervously on a cigarette. He put out a hand and tapped the judge on the arm.

“Sorry. Off limits.”

Sergeant Erlangen said, “Shut up, punk. We want to see Tonelli.”

“The law, eh? Well, Tonelli’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

“Down at the harbor. He said he was taking a cruise tonight.”

“A cruise?” The Judge turned to Sergeant Erlangen. “What for?”

The sergeant shrugged. He said to Tuxedo, “What time was he leaving?”

“About eleven, I guess.”

“We have time,” Judge Mills said. “We’ll take a little trip down to the harbor.”