The Case of the Crime King

Chapter 1

It was Monday, December 2nd. It was cool in Los Angeles. We were working the day watch out of Robbery Division. My partner’s Sergeant Frank Smith. The boss is Captain Peters.

My name’s Friday.

In a city of nearly two and a half million there is lots of crime. Sociologists estimate that at least five per cent of the total population is “socially maladjusted,” a textbook way of saying “bad.” Statistically, Los Angeles should have 125,000 of these potential criminals. Adequate policing and efficient prosecution deter a large portion from stepping over the line.

Enough remain unimpressed to keep us busy.

Larceny is the commonest major crime. Burglary is next, then auto theft. None of these are violent crimes, however.

The commonest crime of violence is aggravated assault. In most cases this is an unplanned crime. Two people get in an argument; one reaches for a club.

Robbery is the most common planned crime of violence. Los Angeles averages between eight and nine robberies a day.

There are forty-five men in Robbery Division to cope with this problem. Thirty-two of them are assigned to the day watch. These are divided into ten details, each specializing in certain types of robbery. Frank and I were working the Market and Jewel Robberies Detail.

In some divisions there are periods of rush, then periods of inaction. Homicide, for instance, may have days of quiet, then suddenly be so flooded with work, all time off is canceled. In Robbery it’s different.

It’s always a madhouse.

All day long the Robbery Division squad room buzzes.

The phones jangle constantly. The hot-shot speaker sounds off. Teams rushing out on calls pass other teams bringing in handcuffed suspects. Officers are getting out bulletins, writing reports, discussing the strategy of investigations. It’s about as quiet as a city newsroom on the day of a major disaster.

At 9:00 a.m. Frank and I were sitting across a table from each other. I was completing the write-up of a case we had closed the day before. Frank was reading the daily bulletin. Frank said, “Listen to this, Joe.”

I looked up. “Yeah?”

“Guy tried to knock over a delicatessen last night. Proprietor grappled with him, pushed the gun up in the air. It went off.”

When he paused to grin to himself, I said, “So?”

“Bullet went through the ceiling. The owner’s apartment was upstairs. His brother-in-law had his head in the ice box, fixing himself a snack.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Caught him right in the seat of the pants.”

Frank looked up from the bulletin with a grin of pure enjoyment. He has definite feelings about brothers-in-law. His wife’s brother, Armand, makes his living by sponging on relatives, and Frank is his favorite customer.

I said, “Hurt him bad?”

He glanced back at the item. “Just a flesh wound. Proprietor overpowered the bandit and called the police.”

I went back to my paper work. After a moment Frank said in a reflective voice, “Wonder if he’d of called in if he’d known what had happened upstairs.”

Tom Johnson, on the desk, called out, “Joe!”

I glanced in that direction, then rose and went over to the desk. After looking that way, too, Frank got up and followed.

Three people stood before Tom’s desk. The one in the middle was a man of about forty-five, short and plump, with a round, good-natured face and lips that at first glance seemed to pout. On second glance I saw that they were swollen. The skin around his mouth and across his plump cheeks was reddened, as though an adhesive bandage had been ripped off recently. The man seemed on the verge of collapse from exhaustion.

A young woman stood on either side of him, each in her early twenties. One was a very light, blue-eyed blonde, the other a dark-skinned, dark-eyed brunette. In their individual ways they were both beautiful, the blonde cool and crisp and queenly, the brunette languorously sultry. Though I’d never seen either before, some indefinable quality that seems to surround all professional show people classified them instantly. I’ve never quite been able to put my finger on this quality. Maybe it’s a brightness of manner, or a tendency to perform even offstage, or simply a matter of meticulous grooming. At any rate, I knew they were either movie starlets or TV actresses.

Tom said, “Got a market robbery for you, Joe.” To the man he said, “Lieutenant Friday and Sergeant Smith will take care of you.”

The two girls gave us bright, show-business smiles. The man merely waited tiredly.

I said, “Let’s find a place to sit down,” and led the group to a relatively quiet corner.

When I indicated chairs, the man flopped into his like a dropped sack of grain. The girls sat protectively on either side of him. Frank sat across from them with a pencil poised over a complaint form. I remained standing.

I said, “You got a market robbery to report, sir?”

He gave a tired nod. “My store. Dehelvey’s Supermarket on Sunset.”

“Your name’s Dehelvey?” I asked.

“Yes, sir. James Dehelvey.”

I glanced at Frank long enough to see that he was taking down the information, then looked at the girls.

“Our names aren’t necessary,” the blonde said brightly. “We just brought Mr. Dehelvey in. We don’t even know him.”

I looked from her to the brunette, got another bright smile, and tabled the matter of names for the moment.

“When did this happen?” I asked Dehelvey.

“A little before midnight last night.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You’re open at that time on Sunday?”

“No, no,” he said. “I’m not open at all. They forced me to open the rear door.”

“Maybe you’d better start at the beginning,” I suggested.

“Well,” he said, “Saturday’s my big day, you know. Which is why they planned it for Sunday, I guess. They knew the safe would be loaded.”

I said, “Uh-huh.”

“They must have been checking my movements. Knew I’d be coming out of Planter’s about eleven thirty p.m.”

“Out of what?”

“Planter’s Tavern. Couple of blocks from where I live. Every Sunday night I stop in there about ten thirty. Have a couple of drinks, leave about an hour later.”

“You always keep that same schedule?”

He gave an emphatic nod. “Yes, sir. Believe in regular habits.” He paused, then added, “I’m a bachelor. Got no woman around to upset my schedule.”

The two girls looked at him with amused smiles.

I said, “What happened when you left the tavern, sir?”

A pained expression crossed James Dehelvey’s face. “Two men were waiting at my car. In the parking lot. Planter’s has its own lot, you see.”

“Uh-huh.”

“They stuck guns in my side. Told me to get in the car and drive. I had to do it. Couldn’t go up against two guns.”

I said, “We understand,” and Frank asked, “Can you describe these men?”

“Sure. They weren’t masked or anything. One was a great big fellow. Must have gone two-fifty and stood about six-four. No fat on him, either. Powerful-looking man.”

“What about his face?” I asked.

“Full face. Rather heavy features, but sort of scholarly looking. Talked real educated, too. Used a couple of words I didn’t even know what they meant. Ambulatory, for instance.”

Frank said, “What?”

“That was later,” Dehelvey explained. “When they taped me up. The big fellow said, ‘Sorry to have to do this, but we can’t have you ambulatory.’”

I grunted, then asked, “How about the other man?”

“As little as the big fellow was big. They were like Mutt and Jeff. Only about five and a half feet, and around one hundred thirty pounds. He had a hooked nose and a straight, real thin mouth.”

Frank asked, “How’d he talk?”

“No better than you or me. Not as good even. Used a double negative once.”

“Yeah?” Frank said.

“Said, ‘There ain’t no rush. We got all night.’ To his partner. That was at the store, too.”

I asked, “How old were these men?”

“Around thirty. Both of them. Couple of years either way.”

“Anything else you can tell us about them?”

“Well, they were polite enough. Didn’t push me around any. Except to tape me up. Didn’t talk at all tough. But they were.”

“How do you mean?”

“Showed their true colors just before they left. Politeness didn’t mean a thing.”

I said, “Go on.”

“Told me what would happen if I went to the police.”

“What?”

“Big fellow said he’d come back and kill me.”