The Guilty Are Afraid

I

I slept until eleven-fifteen the following morning.

When I had telephoned down to the night clerk to tell him I couldn’t use the room I was in and why, he had promptly called the police, and I had had yet another visit from Candy.

I didn’t tell him about the match folder. I let him see for himself what had happened, and when he had asked if there was anything missing, I had said, as far as I could see, nothing was.

I then moved into another room, leaving him and his finger-print men to check for clues. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t find anything.

As soon as I got into bed I went out like a light. It was the hot sun, coming through the chinks in the blind making me uncomfortably hot, that finally woke me.

I telephoned down for coffee and toast, went into the bathroom, took a shower, shaved and then lay on the bed, waiting for the coffee.

I had a lot to think about. There were a number of loose ends to this investigation that needed to be followed up.

Was there any connecting link between the Musketeer Club and Hahn’s School of Ceramics? Was this link something that Sheppey had been working on? Did Marcus Hahn figure in the case? Had Creedy hired Sheppey to watch his wife, and had Sheppey stumbled on something quite away from this assignment? What had he been doing in the bathing cabin with a girl like Thelma Cousins?

The coffee arrived before I could attempt to answer any of these questions. While I was drinking it, the telephone bell rang.

It was Rankin.

“I hear you had visitors last night.”

“Yes.”

“Any idea who they were?”

I stared up at the ceiling as I said, “I’d have told Candy if I had. They went through Sheppey’s things, now they’ve given me the same treatment.”

“Watch out they don’t give you an ice pick.”

“There’s that.”

“I thought I’d check with you. Candy didn’t find a thing. You have no ideas?”

“Not at the moment. I’m bending my brain on it now. If I come up with anything I’ll tell you.”

There was a pause, then he said, “I’ve talked to the priest. Hahn wasn’t lying. This girl was just what he said she was. She didn’t go out with men, and the priest said she would never associate with any strange man. He’s quite convinced about that.”

“She associated with Sheppey.”

“Yeah. Well, I have work to do. I’m trying to get a line on that ice pick.”

“I was going to ask you about that. No prints?”

“No. You can buy a pick like that at any hardware store. I have men asking around. If I get anything I’ll let you know.”

I thanked him. At least I was getting more co-operation from him than I had expected.

He reminded me I would have to attend the inquest on Sheppey’s death that would be held in the late afternoon, then he hung up.

I finished my coffee, then called Ella at the office. I asked her how Sheppey’s wife had taken the news. She said she had had a bad time with her, but she thought she would be over the shock by now.

“She’ll have my letter this morning. Keep the cash box locked, Ella. It’s my bet she’ll be around asking for some dough before long. Tell her I’ll be mailing her a cheque to-night.”

Ella said she would do that.

We talked business for a few minutes. Two cases had come in: both of them sounded lucrative and interesting, but I wasn’t even tempted.

“See if Corkhill will handle them on a fifty-fifty basis,” I said. “I’m staying here until I’ve cracked this one. Can you manage?”

“Of course.”

And I knew she would manage. She was as sharp and as smart as anyone I could hope to have working for me.

We talked some more, then I said I’d call her in a day or so and hung up.

By now my room was unpleasantly hot.

I still felt a little under the weather and decided I’d go down to the beach, take a swim and then plan out a campaign with the sun to inspire me.

I got dressed, dug out my swimming trunks from my bag and stuffed them into my pocket, then I took the elevator to the ground floor.

Brewer, the fat reception clerk, took my key.

“Mr. Brandon,” he said, looking confused, “I’m afraid that...”

“I know: don’t tell me,” I said. “You have a sudden rush of business and you could use my room.” I smiled at him. “I don’t blame you. Okay, I’ll find somewhere else. Just give me until to-night.”

“I’m sorry, but we are getting a lot of complaints.” He actually looked sorry. “We have had the police here four times in twenty-four hours since you’ve been here.”

“Yes, I know. I can imagine how you feel about that. I’ll move out to-night.”

“That’s very nice of you, Mr. Brandon.”

I went out to the Buick and drove down to the beach. By then it was just after twelve noon, and the beach was crowding up. I managed to find a place to leave the Buick, then I made my way to a bathing station.

The umbrellas were out. The boys and girls were already at play: some were throwing the medicine ball, some swimming, some starting on the round of before-lunch cocktails from silver flasks, some were just lying and letting the sun burn them up.

I changed into my trunks, stepped over muscular, brown bodies, picked my way past blondes, brunettes and redheads, wearing the minimum, before I could get to the sea.

I swam out for about a quarter of a mile at my fastest clip. I felt in need of the exercise. Then I turned around and came back more leisurely.

The sun was hot now, and there were even less places on the beach.

I came out of the sea and paused to look around, trying to find a place where I needn’t rub shoulders with anyone else, but it wasn’t easy. Then I saw a girl, sitting under a blue-and-white umbrella, waving at me.

She was wearing a white swim suit and she had on a pair of doughnut-sized sun-goggles. I recognized her silky blonde hair and her shape before I recognized what I could see of her face.

Margot Creedy was inviting me to join her.

I picked my way over the bodies until I reached her. She looked up at me, her lovely face wearing a slightly cautious expression, and she gave me the same small smile she had given me when we had first met.

“It’s Mr. Brandon, isn’t it?” she said, and she sounded slightly breathless. “It is Mr. Brandon?”

“Well, if it isn’t, someone has stolen my skin,” I said. “Is that Miss Creedy behind those big, big goggles?”

She laughed and took the goggles off. Make no mistake about this fact: the girl was quite a dish. Apart from her shape which, in that swim suit, was sensational, there wasn’t a flaw in her.

“Won’t you sit down or are you tied up or something?”

I dropped down on the hot sand right by her.

I said I wasn’t tied up or anything, and went on, “Thank you for being helpful last night. I wasn’t expecting you to do that for me.”

“I just happened to be at the club.” She hugged her knees, staring over the top of them at the sea. “Besides, I was curious. There’s something intriguing as well as morbid about a murder case, isn’t there?” She put on her goggles again. I was sorry because they were so big they blotted out half her face. “I was quite sure when you asked me if your friend had been to the club that he hadn’t. I just had to check to see if I were right. It is very difficult now for a non-member to get in.”

“Have you seen the papers this morning?” I asked, stretching out on the sand. By turning my head I could still have an exciting view of her.

“You mean the second murder? Do you know who the girl is? Was she the one who met your friend: the one he went with to the bathing cabin?”

“That’s her.”

“Everyone is talking about her.” She reached for her big beach bag and began to hunt around in it the way women do. “It’s most mysterious, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but there’s probably a very simple explanation.” The heat of the sun was beginning to bother me a little so I turned on my face and moved my body a little more into the shade made by the umbrella. Lying that way I could look directly up at her face. It was something that I would be happy to do any time of the day or night: she really was quite a dish. Possibly the loveliest girl I’ve ever seen.

“Could she have committed suicide?”

“She could have, I suppose, but it is very unlikely. Why stab yourself with an ice pick? There are simpler ways.”

“But suppose she killed your friend? She might have felt a need to atone for what she had done. The papers say she was very religious. She might have felt the only way to atone was to die the way he had died.”

This startled me.

“For the love of mike! Did you think that up yourself?”

“Well, no. I was talking to some people. One of them said it and I thought it could be right.”

“I wouldn’t worry my brains how she died if I were you,” I said. “That’s a job for the police. She worked at this place out at Arrow Point. The School of Ceramics they call it. Have you ever been there?”

“Why, of course. I go there a lot. I’m just crazy about some of the designs that man Hahn makes. He really is wonderful. Last week I bought a statue of a little boy he made. It was enchanting.”

“Did you ever see the girl there?”

“I can’t remember her. There are so many girls working there.”

“From what I’ve heard, I was under the impression the place was just a tourists’ junk shop.”

“Well, in a way, I suppose it is, but Hahn has a room at the back where he keeps all his newest and best work. Only his very special customers can get in there.”

“So he does pretty well?”

“Of course, and he deserves to. He really is a great artist.”

Watching her, I could see she meant it. Her face was alight with enthusiasm.

“I must go out and take a look one of these days. Maybe you would come with me, Miss Creedy? I’d like to look at his best stuff. I’m not a buyer, of course, but good pottery interests me.”

There was a pause. I wasn’t sure if she were hesitating or thinking or what.

“Yes,” she said. “The next time I go I’ll let you know. Will you still be at the Adelphi Hotel?”

“That reminds me. How did you know I was staying there when you called last night?”

She laughed.

She really had beautiful teeth. They were just the right size, even and as white as orange pith. And she didn’t just make a hole in her face the way some girls do when they laugh. Her laugh sent a little prickle up my spine. This girl was certainly getting me worked up. I hadn’t felt this way since my first serious date, fifteen-odd years back into the past.

“I asked Mr. Hammerschult. You must have met him. He knows absolutely everything. I’ve never asked him a thing that he couldn’t answer.”

“That had me a little foxed. I wondered how you knew. To return to the Adelphi: I won’t be there. They’ve asked me to leave. The police have been in and out of my room so often, the management are afraid someone will think there’s a continuous raid on. I’ve got to find a place before to-night.”

“That won’t be easy. It’s right in the season.”

“Well, I’ll have to look.”

I didn’t much like the idea. Usually Jack found our rooms. He had a natural talent for knowing the hotel that had a vacancy. I would call on ten hotels and be told there wasn’t a room to be had. He would pick one and we’d move in straight away.

“You wouldn’t know of any little place that isn’t expensive?” I said, then remembered who I was talking to and laughed. “No, I guess you wouldn’t. That’s not quite in your line, is it?”

“How long are you planning to stay?”

“Until this case is cleared up. It could be cleared up in a week or it may take a month. I don’t know.”

“Could you look after yourself?”

“Why, sure. You don’t imagine I go in for staff back home, do you? Have you something then?”

“It may not be what you want. I have a little bungalow out at Arrow Bay. I had to take it on a two-years lease. I don’t ever go there now. The lease has still a year to run. You could have it if you like.”

I stared at her.

“No kidding?”

“If you want it, you can have it. It’s furnished and there’s everything there. I haven’t been out to look at it for a month or so, but last time I went it was all right. All you need do is to pay the light bills. Everything else is taken care of.”

“That’s pretty nice of you, Miss Creedy.” I was knocked back on my mental heels. “I’ll take it like a shot.”

“If you’ve nothing better to do, we could go out there to-night after dinner. I have a dinner date, but I’ll be free after ten. I’ll have the water and light turned on between now and then, and I’ll bring the key with me.”

“Honest... you embarrass me, Miss Creedy. Such service for a stranger. Look, I don’t want to trouble you...”

“It’s no trouble.”

I wished I could have got a glimpse of her eyes behind those big goggles. I had a sudden idea I would like to have seen the expression in them. There was something in her voice that told me I was missing something by not seeing her eyes.

She looked at her watch.

“I must go. I’m having lunch with Daddy. He hates to be kept waiting.”

“Better not tell him you’re providing me with a home,” I said, getting to my feet. I watched her slip a short-sleeved dress over her swim suit. “I have an idea I’m not exactly his favourite man. He might discourage you.”

“I never tell Daddy anything,” she said. “Would you meet me outside the Musketeer Club at ten: then we’ll go on to the bungalow.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Then good-bye for now.”

There was that small smile again that had me practically rolling on my back with my hands and feet in the air.

She moved away across the sand and I stood there looking after her.

I thought I had got long, long past the stage of being excited over a girl, but watching the way she moved, the sway of her hips and the way she held her head really did things to me.

II

After I had had a snack lunch, I returned to my hotel and packed my suit-cases. I got Joe, the bell hop, to arrange for Sheppey’s things to be sent to Sheppey’s wife. I then wrote her a brief note and included a cheque for a couple of hundred bucks, stressing that this amount would come off the amount I would finally pay her.

By then, it was time for me to attend the inquest. I had my things taken to the Buick and I settled the account.

Brewer again apologized for needing my room, but I told him I’d got something else and he needn’t bother his head about me.

I went down to Greaves’s office, where I found him polishing his shoes with a duster.

“You coming to the inquest?” I asked.

“I’ve been told to.” He tossed the duster back in his desk drawer, adjusted his tie and reached for his hat. “You going to give me a ride down or do I take a bus?”

“Sure, come on.”

On the drive down to the Coroner’s court, I asked him if he had been along to look at Thelma Cousins’s body.

“I wasn’t asked,” he said. “Rankin hasn’t any time for me. Brewer saw her: that’s a laugh, isn’t it? He wouldn’t be able to identify his own mother if they showed her to him on a slab. Not that it would be easy to identify the girl. That hat and the sun-goggles she wore made her just any woman in a dark wig.”

I didn’t tell him that he had been wrong about the wig. He wasn’t the type to be told he could be wrong.

There were only nine people attending the court. Five of them were the obvious time-wasters you always see at inquests, but the other four attracted my attention.

One of them was a girl with rimless glasses with the hard, poker face of an efficient secretary. She was smartly dressed in a grey linen frock set off with a white collar and cuffs. She sat at the back of the court and took down the whole proceedings in rapid shorthand. Then there was a youngish man in a pearl-grey, loose-fitting suit. He had a lot of blond hair that had been crimped in places by a curling iron. Sun-glasses completely obscured his eyes. He sat on one side of the court and looked around as if he were something pretty intellectual. Every now and then he yawned so prodigiously that I thought he would dislocate his jaws. The other two who caught my eye were a couple of glossy, smooth, well-fed men, immaculately dressed, who sat facing the Coroner. I noticed he nodded to them when he came in and again when he finally went out.

The Coroner seemed pretty bored with the whole proceedings. He hurried me through my evidence, listened with a far-away stare in his eyes to Brewer’s stammering statement, didn’t call Greaves and was pretty curt with the attendant of the bathing station. It wasn’t until Rankin got up to say the police were still making inquiries and he would like a week’s adjournment that the Coroner became remotely human. He said hurriedly that he would grant an adjournment, then whisked himself out of sight through a doorway behind his chair.

After I had given my evidence, I had returned to my seat beside Greaves. I asked him if he knew who the two glossy-looking men were.

“They’re from Hesketh’s office,” he told me. “The biggest and smartest attorney on the Pacific Coast.”

“Would he handle Creedy’s business?”

“There would be no one big enough except him to handle it.”

“Know who the blond dude is over there with the pencil at his nose?”

Greaves shook his head.

“Or the girl at the back?”

“No.”

As soon as the Coroner had gone, the blond gentleman slid out of court with no more commotion than water makes leaving a sink.

The two glossy men went over to Rankin and talked for a minute or so before leaving. While I watched them, I missed seeing the girl in grey leave.

Greaves said he would take the bus back. He added he hoped I would keep in touch with him. We shook hands and he went off.

The two glossy men went away and that left Rankin and me alone in the court room.

I went over to him.

“Anything new?” I asked.

“No.” He looked vaguely uneasy. “Not yet. I still can’t get a line on that ice pick.” He took out a cigarette and began to fidget with it. “We’re now digging into the girl’s background. She may have been a dark horse.”

“Yeah? Suppose you dig into Creedy’s background,” I said. “That might pay off. Were those two guys representing him?”

“They just looked in to pass the time. They have a case on now, and they were a little early for it.”

I laughed.

“Is that what they told you? You don’t fall for that, do you?”

“Well, I can’t stay here talking to you. I have work to do,” he said, his voice curt.

“Did you see the blond boy in the grey suit? Know who he is?”

“He works at the School of Ceramics,” Rankin said, looking away from me.

“That’s interesting. What’s he doing here?”

“Maybe Hahn sent him down,” he said vaguely. “Well, I’ve got to get moving.”

“If you want me, I’m staying at Arrow Point. I’ve got me a little bungalow out there.”

He gave me a curious stare.

“There’s only one bungalow out at Arrow Point. I thought it belonged to Margot Creedy.”

“So it does. I’ve rented it off her.”

Again he stared at me, started to say something, changed his mind, nodded and went away.

I gave him time to leave the building, then I went out to the Buick. The time was now half past four. I asked a policeman who was airing himself on the edge of the kerb where the Courier’s offices were. He directed me as if he were doing me a favour.

I got over to the Courier’s offices a few minutes to a quarter to five. I told the girl at the reception desk that I wanted to talk to Ralph Troy. I gave her my business card and, after a five-minute wait, she took me down a passage into a small office where a man was sitting behind a crowded desk, a pipe in his mouth. He was a big man with greying hair, a square jaw and light grey eyes. He pushed out a big firm hand over the litter of his desk and shook hands.

“Take a seat, Mr. Brandon. I’ve heard about you. Holding called and said you might look in for a talk.”

I sat down.

“I haven’t much to talk about right now, Mr. Troy,” I said, “but I wanted to introduce myself. Maybe in a little while I’ll have something for you. I understand that if I give you some facts, you’ll print.”

He showed big, strong white teeth in a wide smile.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he said. “I aim to print the truth and only the truth, and that’s the only reason why I’m still in business. I’m glad you looked in. I want to put you wise to this town. You’ve heard Holding sound off, now it’s my turn.” He eased himself back in his chair, puffed smoke at the ceiling, then went on, “There’s an election for a new term coming along in a month’s time. The old gang who have been in power now for five years have got to get back into power or sink. And when I say sink, I mean just that. The only way these boys can keep alive is to continue to keep their paws in the gravy. Take the gravy away and they’re finished. St. Raphael City is one of the biggest money spinners on the Pacific coast. Even without the rackets, it would still make money. It’s the rich man’s stamping ground. There’s everything here. There’s no other place outside Miami that offers so much for the millionaire who wants to relax. This town is in the hands of the racketeers. Although Creedy owns a little more than half of it, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t keep the racketeers out. It so happens he doesn’t give a damn one way or the other so long as his holdings pay off. He isn’t a bad man, Mr. Brandon. Don’t get that idea into your head. I’m not saying he isn’t a greedy one. He wants a return for his money. If the racketeers push up the value of his holdings as they are doing he isn’t objecting. So long as the Casino, the gambling ship, the various night clubs, the five movie houses, the theatre and the opera house, all of which he has financed, pay off, he isn’t worrying his brains that the racketeers, the chisellers, the con men, the dope traffickers and the vice boys don’t cut into his profits, he leaves them alone, and they are smart enough to know it. This town is riddled with vice and corruption. There’s scarcely an official in the Administration who isn’t collecting a cut from somewhere.”

“And Judge Harrison plans to put all that right?” I asked.

Troy lifted his bulky shoulders.

“That’s what Judge Harrison promises to do if he gets elected, but he won’t, of course. I’m not saying there won’t be a token clean-up: there will be. A number of the minor vice characters will get tossed into the can. There’ll be a certain amount of flag waving and a hell of a lot of talk, then, after a month or so, the big boys will flex their muscles and everything will be back as it was. The Judge will find his bank balance has suddenly mysteriously increased. Someone will give him a Cadillac. He’ll find it is that much easier to let things go on without interference: for Creedy read Harrison, otherwise it will be the same old racket. It’s the system, not the men. A man is honest just so far, but if the money is there, then he can be bought. I’m not saying every man can be bought, but I know damn well Harrison can be.”

“I was under the impression that Creedy was the boss of the rackets. If he isn’t, then who is?”

Troy blew more smoke before saying, “The man who uses Creedy’s money and who really runs this town is Cordez, the owner of the Musketeer Club. He’s the boy. He’s the one who will still be here if Creedy drops out and Harrison takes over. No one knows much about him except he is a slick operator from South America who arrived overnight and who seems to have a natural talent for making profit out of any kind of racket. If Creedy’s big business, then Cordez is big rackets. But make no mistake about this: Creedy is just a song at twilight compared with Cordez. If anyone could pull the rug from under Cordez’s feet, this town would be free of the rackets, but no one is big enough.”

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “The Musketeer Club isn’t Cordez’s only asset, is it?”

Troy smiled grimly as he shook his head.

“Of course not. He uses Creedy’s money to make himself money. Take the Casino as an example. Creedy financed the building and gets the house stakes, but Cordez also gets twenty-five per cent as protection money. Creedy financed the gambling ship. He reckoned it would bring in the tourists. It does, but Cordez is there to pick up another twenty-five per cent. If there was no pay-off a bomb would go off in that ship. Those who run the ship and the Casino and all the other money spinners know that so they pay up.”

I sat for a long moment taking a look at what he had told me. This wasn’t anything new. It was happening in New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco and all over. In thirty-six hours I seemed to have moved a long way from Sheppey’s sudden death in a hot little bathing cabin to this. Had he found out something that might have put Cordez on a spot? Sheppey had been a good man with a nose for finding out things like that. I thought of the ice pick that had been filed down to a razor-sharp point: a gangster’s weapon.

“I wanted you to get the picture,” Troy said. “That’s how it is. And another thing: watch this guy Holding. You can trust him the way you trust a rattlesnake: no more, no less. So long as you play it his way, he’ll be your friend, but move one step out of his way of thinking and you’ll wonder what’s hit you. So watch him.”

I said I would, then went on to tell him about the possible hook-up between Creedy and Sheppey. I gave him all the facts and I also told him about the mysterious match holder.

“It’s my bet that Creedy hired Sheppey to do a job like watching his wife or something like that and Sheppey stumbled on something big that has nothing to do with Creedy,” I said. “I may be wrong, but I can’t imagine a man like Creedy having anyone killed.”

Troy shook his head.

“You’re right. He wouldn’t do that. He might have a guy beaten up if he got in his way, but killing would be out.” He leaned back in his chair. “This is quite a story, isn’t it? But there’s nothing yet we can print. With a little digging we might come up with a real humdinger.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve got things to do, Mr. Brandon. I’ve got to get going. I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll turn young Hepple on to this set up. He’s one of my best men. You can use him when and how you like. He’s got a talent for nosing out information. Don’t be scared to work him hard, he thrives on it. He might dig into Hahn’s background for a start. I’ve always thought there was something fishy about that fella.”

“I’ll call him to-morrow and we’ll have a talk,” I said. “Hepple did you say his name was?”

“That’s right: Frank Hepple.”

“I’ll call him.” I got to my feet. “You wouldn’t know anyone who is a member of the Musketeer Club, would you?”

“Me?” Troy laughed. “Not a chance.”

“I’d like to get in there and look around.”

“You haven’t a hope. Don’t kid yourself. No one goes in there unless he’s a member or a member takes him in.”

“Well, okay. We’ll keep in touch,” I said. “With any luck I’ll let you have something in a day or so.”

“If it’s anything about Creedy, it’s got to be solid facts: nothing else will do,” Troy said, leaning across his desk to stare at me. “I can’t afford a libel suit with him. He could put me out of business.”

“When I give you something on Creedy, it’ll be solid facts,” I said.

We shook hands and I left him.

At least now I felt I had someone I could rely on. It was a pretty comforting thought.