The Way the Cookie Crumbles

Chapter Two

A few minutes after Terrell and his men had left La Coquille restaurant, heading for Seaview Boulevard, Ticky Edris took off his drill jacket and slipped on a light grey alpaca coat. He then trotted to the still-room door, opened it and glanced into the bar.

Louis and Jacoby were talking at the head of the stairs.

‘Going home now, Mr. Louis,’ Edris said in his piping voice. ‘That okay with you?’

Louis waved his hand, not pausing in his talk with Jacoby. Edris returned to the still-room, his movements quick and bustling. He let himself out through the Staff exit, bounced down a flight of steps and into the parking lot reserved for the Staff’s car. He half ran, half bounced to where two cars were parked. One of them a Cooper Mini; the other a Buick Roadmaster convertible with the top up.

A broad shouldered man sat at the wheel of the Buick, smoking a cigarette. He wore a brown straw hat and a well cut fawn-coloured suit. His shirt was white and immaculate; his tie expensive and conservative. The thick wings of his gold blond hair went well with his heavy suntan. He was handsome: a young looking thirty-eight, and the deep cleft in his chin gave him the little extra personality that appeals to most women.

He could have been mistaken for a successful law officer, a bank official or even an up and coming politician, but he was neither a law officer, a bank official nor a politician. Phil Algir used his impressive appearance, his wealth of general knowledge and his charm to fool the greedy out of their money. Algir was a con man who had spent fourteen years of his life in prison and who had left New York in a hurry for Florida at the very moment a warrant was being sworn out for his arrest. He had remained quietly in Paradise City, short of funds, afraid to set up another of his smooth swindles, knowing the next time he was caught, he would go away for another fourteen years.

Behind his handsome, charming facade, there was a streak of vicious ruthlessness in Algir. Up to this night, he had managed to get the money he needed without resorting to violence, but now the facade was down. If this job he and the dwarf had planned didn’t work out, it wouldn’t be fourteen years in a cell this time. A seat in the gas chamber would be waiting for him. But he had every confidence in Edris and himself. This job was going to work out — it had to.

‘Going like a dream,’ Edris said, resting his stumpy fingers on the door of the car. ‘No fuss — no trouble. All right your end?’

‘Yeah.’

‘They’ve gone to the bungalow. They’ll then come on to East Street. You’d better get moving, Phil. You know what to do.’

‘Yeah.’ Algir started the car engine. ‘Think they’re satisfied she knocked herself off?’

‘Looks like it. I’ll watch Terrell. He’s smart. Don’t get to the school before half-past seven.’

‘I know. I know. We’ve gone over it enough times, haven’t we? You handle your end. I’ll handle mine.’

Edris stepped back, and with a brief nod, Algir sent the Buick moving out of the parking lot. Edris watched the tail lights disappear, then turned and got into the Mini. The clutch, brake and gas pedals had been built up with thick lumps of cork so his stumpy legs could reach down to them. He was a fast, expert driver. He hadn’t had an accident in his seventeen years of driving.

He drove fast out of Paradise City, pushing the Mini up to eighty miles an hour once on the highway. But as he approached No. 247, Seaview Boulevard, he slowed and drove past at a much slower speed, glancing at the parked police cars in front of the bungalow. It took him another ten minutes to reach East Street. Leaving his car before the apartment block, he took the elevator to the top floor and entered the two room apartment he had lived in now for the past eight years.

There was a big living room, a small bedroom, a kitchenette and a shower room. He had lavished considerable care on the living room and by careful buying and selection, he had made it into a comfortable, tastefully furnished home. He used a coffee table for his dining table and he had had a special miniature chair and a lounging chair made for his own comfort: the rest of the furniture was of normal size as Edris liked to entertain his friends from time to time and he had chosen the settee and the armchairs with consideration for the comfort of others.

He bounced into the bedroom, stripped off his clothes and then ran into the shower room. He danced around in his grotesque nakedness under the shower of tepid water, slapping his hands together in time with his humming. He then dried himself and put on a pair of gold and blue pyjamas and a blue dressing gown. He went into the sitting room, crossing over to the miniature cocktail cabinet. He poured himself a slug of whisky, added charge water, then carrying the drink to his armchair, he sat down, putting his feet up on a tiny footstool. He took a drink, set down the glass, then lit a cigarette. He sat for some minutes, relaxing, drawing the cigarette smoke deep into his lungs and then expelling it through his wide nostrils.

He glanced at the tiny lady’s wristwatch on his wrist. The time was 06.30 hours. It would take Phil a little under the hour to reach Greater Miami. If all went well, Phil would be on his way back to Paradise City by half-past eight. He couldn’t expect to hear from Phil before half-past nine or even ten.

Edris finished his whisky, stifled a yawn and stubbed out his cigarette. He would have liked to have gone to bed, but he knew if he went to bed, he would fall asleep and that would never do. He mustn’t be sleepy or dull minded when the cops arrived.

He struggled out of his chair and carrying his empty glass over to the cocktail cabinet, he made himself another drink. Edris was a heavy drinker, but seemed able to absorb a considerable quantity of alcohol without it affecting him. But tonight he had been under a strain and he was tired. He told himself to go slow with the whisky. It wouldn’t do for him to get overconfident.

He was finishing his drink, sipping it slowly, when he heard a car pull up in the street below. He restrained the urge to look out of the window. The cops mustn’t catch him peeping at them. He carried the glass into the kitchenette and rinsed it out. Then he went into the hall and standing by the front door, he listened.

Beigler had got the key to the dead woman’s apartment from the janitor who had shrugged indifferently when Beigler had told him the woman was dead. To Beigler’s questions, he had said he knew little about the woman except her name was Marsh, that she paid her rent regularly, never appeared in the mornings, went out in the afternoons and returned very late each night. She didn’t have much mail and seldom visitors.

Yawning prodigiously, Hess got into the elevator with Beigler and they shot up to the top floor.

Entering the woman’s two-room apartment, they looked around. The living room was comfortably furnished with a big TV set in one corner. There was a double bed in the bedroom and fitted clothes closets. On the dressing table were two silver framed photographs: one of a handsome, dark-haired man in his early thirties; the other of a girl around sixteen or seventeen years of age, her blonde hair in an urchin cut. Her thin, sharp features, pert little nose and large mouth, made her elfin-like and attractive.

A careful search of the various drawers in the apartment revealed very little except a collection of unpaid bills and a number of letters that began: Dear Mummy and ended: all my love, Norena. The address at the head of each letter was Graham Co-Ed College, Greater Miami.

Hess found several specimens of the dead woman’s handwriting which he compared with the suicide note. They seemed to have been written by the same hand. Beigler, who had been reading some of the letters from the girl, Norena, looked up at Hess.

‘I guess she must be the daughter,’ he said and nodded to the photograph on the dressing table. ‘Nice looking kid. I wonder who the father is.’

‘Maybe the midget knows. Let’s go talk to him. He’s just across the way.’

Leaving the apartment, the two men crossed the landing and Hess rang on the front door bell of Edris’ apartment.

After a brief delay, the door opened and Edris looked inquiringly up at them.

‘Oh,’ he said and moved back. ‘Come in, gentlemen. I’m just making coffee. Will you have some?’

‘Sure,’ Beigler said and the two detectives entered the living room.

Hess said, ‘Why aren’t you in bed, Ticky?’

‘Can’t sleep without coffee. I won’t be a second,’ Edris said and with a hop and a skip, he bounced into the kitchenette.

‘Sort of cute, ain’t he?’ Hess said. He looked around the room. ‘For Pete’s sake! He’s got himself his own goddamn armchair!’

‘Why shouldn’t he?’ Beigler said, lowering himself onto the settee. ‘Would you like to be a dwarf?’

Hess thought about it, shrugged and sat down.

‘Why should I care? I’m not a dwarf.’

Edris returned carrying a tray with coffee things. He poured three cups and handed them around, then he sat in his armchair and put his feet up on the footstool.

The three men drank a little of their coffee. Beigler, who considered himself a connoisseur, nodded with approval.

‘Fine coffee,’ he said. ‘You’ve got it just right.’

Edris smiled.

‘Not much I don’t know about coffee.’

‘Never mind the coffee,’ Hess broke in. ‘Let’s hear what you know about this woman. That her husband’s photo in her bedroom?’

Edris was far too smart to fall into that obvious trap.

‘I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been in her bedroom.’

Hess stared at him, then got to his feet, crossed the landing and collected the two photographs. He came back and offered them to Edris.

‘Who’s he?’

‘That’s not her husband. That’s the fella she ran away with years ago. His name was Henry Lewis. He got killed in a car crash some fifteen years ago.’

‘This her daughter?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Where’s she?’

‘The Graham Co-Ed College, Greater Miami.’

‘Her husband alive?’

‘He’s alive.’

‘Who’s he?’

‘Melville Devon.’

‘Know where he lives?’

‘Somewhere in Paradise City. I don’t know where.’

‘You said she ran off with this guy Lewis? She leave her husband for him?’

‘Yes. From what she told me, she couldn’t get along with Devon. He was a serious sort of fella, always working. After they had been married less than two years, she met Lewis. He had money. So she ran off with him. That was fifteen years ago. She took the baby with her. Lewis liked kids. They had a pretty good time together for a year, then he got killed.’

Hess stared thoughtfully at Edris.

‘She tell you all this?’

‘Yes. Not all at once. When she got blue she would come in here and sit, saying nothing for hours. Then she’d start talking and then she would shut up. She had no money when Lewis died. They were planning to marry as soon as Muriel could get a divorce. She put the baby with foster parents and got a job as a hotel receptionist.’ Edris paused to finish his coffee. He poured more into his cup and pushed the jug over to Beigler. ‘She got into bad company. After a while she started on the needle. She got tossed out of the hotel. She hadn’t the money for a fix so she went on the streets. Some old guy set her up in an apartment. She lived pretty well for the next five years until he died. She sent Norena. that’s her daughter to boarding school. They only got together during the vacations. The drug habit really got her, and she quit New York and came here. Then Johnnie Williams showed up.’

Edris again paused and looked at Hess. ‘Maybe you’d better talk to him. He knows more about Muriel than I do.’

Hess poured himself another cup of coffee.

‘Williams is dead. She killed him. Why didn’t she tell you, Ticky? She told you everything, didn’t she? Why didn’t she tell you she put five slugs into him before she came to La Coquille?’

Edris sat very still. His big eyes clouded. They looked like the eyes of a spaniel.

‘She didn’t tell me. I knew something pretty bad had happened, but she was drunk. I couldn’t get any sense out of her. So she killed him! Well, he had it coming. The dirty, double-crossing son of a bitch!’

‘Just why did he have it coming?’ Beigler asked.

‘She did everything for that slob. She kept him, bought him his clothes, let him have a room rent-free. She was crazy about him. He bled her white. During the last six months or so, he’s been going after the old women at the Palace Hotel. He found one with money. By now, Muriel was broke. She was so far gone on the needle, she couldn’t even get customers. She had the school bills and her regular fixes to pay for. Johnnie was really in the money. When she tried to borrow off him, he laughed at her. I guess he laughed once too often.’

‘How about the daughter? Does she have any idea what was going on?’

‘No. Muriel and she went away on sea trips during the vacations. She didn’t want Norena to come to her apartment too often. She was hoping to take her to the West Indies this vacation, but she had no money and Johnnie wouldn’t stake her.’

‘You being her best friend, you didn’t stake her, Ticky?’

‘She wouldn’t take it from me. I offered, but she couldn’t bring herself to take money from me.’

‘Why not? You were her best friend, weren’t you the guy she always confided in.’

Edris looked thoughtfully at Hess, his eyes stony.

‘I guess she thought I was more to be pitied than her. She never looked on me as a human being. I was just someone, something, to talk to.’

Hess sneered.

‘Did she say she pitied you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, you saved your money, didn’t you, Ticky?’

‘I don’t have all that money to save,’ Edris said.

‘Oh, come on: with your cute tricks, I bet you pick up plenty of tips.’

Beigler said impatiently, ‘Let’s skip it, Fred. This isn’t getting us anywhere.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. I think this freak is a shade too cute,’ Hess said, scowling at Edris. ‘Didn’t Muriel say one little thing that hinted she had killed Williams?’

‘No.’

Hess began to unwrap a packet of gum.

‘Did she own a gun, Ticky?’

‘I don’t think so. She might have done. I wouldn’t know.’

‘Who was the pusher who gave her her fix?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘It wouldn’t be you?’

‘No.’

Hess fed the gum into his mouth, stared at his fleshy hands for a long moment, then shrugged. He got to his feet.

‘I guess that’s all. You got anything that’s worrying you, Joe?’

Beigler also got to his feet.

‘No.’

‘Well, let’s get out of here.’

The two detectives walked to the door. Edris remained in the armchair, his feet on the foot stool, his eyes watching them.

‘Thanks for the coffee,’ Beigler said at the door.

‘Keep your nose clean, pint-size,’ Hess said.

The two detectives went out, shutting the door behind them.

Edris remained still for several minutes, his face mottled with hot, rising blood. His eyes gleamed. His stumpy fingers scratched on the arms of the chair as he wrestled with his rage.

Later, when the hands of his watch moved to 07.15 hours, he got to his feet and crossed to the telephone. He dialled a number. As he waited for the connection, he lit a cigarette.

A woman’s voice said, ‘This is the Graham Co-Educational School.’

‘I want to speak to Dr. Graham,’ Edris said. ‘This is very urgent.’

‘Who is this?’

‘My name is Edward Edris. This is a matter that concerns Norena Devon one of your pupils. It’s an emergency.’

‘Will you hold it please?’

Edris sucked in smoke and released it down his nostrils.

There was a little delay, then a man’s voice said, ‘This is Dr. Graham.’

‘Doctor, this is Edward Edris. I am a friend of the Devon family. Norena knows me well. There has been an accident. Her mother is very seriously hurt.’

‘I am sorry to hear that. What would you like me to do, Mr. Edris?’

‘Would you break the news to Norena? Don’t tell her how serious it is. Just say there’s been an accident. Dr. Graham, it so happens that Mr. Stanley Tebbel, Mrs. Devon’s attorney, is in Greater Miami right now. I have already spoken to him. As he is returning to Paradise City immediately, he would drive Norena back with him. This would save time. Her mother is asking for her.’

Edris waited, aware of his mounting tension. This was the crux of the conversation. Would Graham play or was he going to be difficult?

‘Mr... who did you say?’ Graham asked, after a pause.

‘Stanley Tebbel.’

‘Does Norena know this gentleman.’

‘She must know of him. I doubt if they have met. Dr. Graham, I can understand what you are thinking. One doesn’t let a girl of seventeen go off with a strange man. I appreciate your cautiousness. But this is extremely urgent. To put it bluntly, Norena’s mother is dying. Look, I suggest, you break the news to Norena, tell her I telephoned, she knows me well. Ask her to call me and I will explain to her about Mr. Tebbel. My telephone number is Seacombe 556.’

Again there was a pause, then Dr. Graham said ‘That won’t be necessary, Mr. Edris. I’ll see Norena goes with Mr. Tebbel as soon as he arrives. I am very sorry about this.’

‘Thank you, Doctor.’

‘Norena will be ready to travel in half an hour. Good-day to you, Mr. Edris,’ and the connection was cut.

Edris hung up. His face was bright with a sly, wicked grin. Suddenly, he began to jump up and down, throwing his stumpy legs out like a Cossack dancer and clapping his stumpy hands together.

He went dancing round and round the room, a sinister little figure of evil.

Dr. Wilbur Graham, a tall, balding, harassed-looking man, paced up and down his big study, his bony hands clasped behind his back. It was three days to end of term and he had still a lot to do, but he found he couldn’t settle to work until this sad business to do with Norena Devon, one of his favourite pupils, had been settled.

He had already seen the girl and had broken the news to her. He had also told her that her mother’s attorney would be arriving any moment to take her home to her mother.

Norena wasn’t a particularly attractive looking girl. She wore blue plastic framed spectacles and her complexion was sallow, but she was well built and her blonde hair was glossy and cared for.

‘Is... is she going to die?’ she had asked.

‘She is badly hurt, Norena. You must be brave about this. I think Mr. Edris would have said if she was in danger, but she is bad,’ Graham had said, shrinking from the truth.

He was still pacing up and down when the maid announced Mr. Stanley Tebbel.

‘Show him right in,’ Graham said.

Phil Algir came into the room, his straw hat in his hand. His handsome face carried just the right expression of sorrow, friendliness and consideration that immediately appealed to Graham. Algir’s clothes also met with the doctor’s approval. Here, obviously, was a man of substance whose sincerity plainly showed on his face.

‘I’m sorry to have to call on you so early,’ Algir said in his rich baritone. He allowed himself a slight, sober smile. ‘I can imagine, with the end of term so close, you must be fully occupied. But unhappily this is an emergency and I thought I should come at once.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Dr. Graham waved to a chair. ‘Do sit down. How is Mrs. Devon?’

Algir sat down and shook his head.

‘She’s very bad, I’m afraid. Have you broken the news to Norena yet?’

‘Yes, I have done that. She is naturally shocked, but I didn’t tell her the worst.’

‘I’m afraid it could be the worst. We should hurry. Even now, we could be too late.’

‘She’s ready, I’m sure.’ Graham rang the bell on his desk. ‘In which hospital is Mrs. Devon?’

Ready for this question, Algir said glibly, ‘I don’t know. It was all rather hurried. Mr. Edris forgot to tell me. I propose driving first to his place, and then to the hospital. I will see you are kept informed, doctor.’

The maid came to the door.

‘Please tell Miss Devon we are ready,’ Graham said.

When the maid had gone, Algir got to his feet and crossed over to the big window. He had to divert Graham’s attention and avoid any embarrassing questions. He looked out at the school grounds.

‘Nice place you have here, doctor. I’m glad to see it. I often get clients asking for a good school for their daughters. I’ll be happy to recommend your school.’

Graham beamed.

‘That’s very kind of you, Mr. Tebbel. Perhaps you would care to have some copies of our prospectus?’

‘Certainly.’

Dr. Graham produced several printed folders which Algir took and began to examine. His interested questions kept Graham’s attention from Norena.

Finally, there came a knock on the door. Graham crossed the room and opened the door.

‘Come in, Norena. Mr. Tebbel is here.’

The girl came in and stood awkwardly just inside the room. She was wearing a grey pleated skirt, a white shirt and a small black hat and black shoes. She carried over her arm a short coat to match the skirt. She looked what she was, a seriously minded College girl going somewhere in her best clothes.

Graham saw she had been weeping. Her eyes behind the lenses of her glasses were red-rimmed and swollen.

She was very pale, but in control of herself and she managed a faint smile as Algir crossed the room, his own smile friendly but sober.

‘We have never met, Norena,’ he said, offering his hand. ‘I have looked after your mother’s affairs for some time now. She has often talked to me about you. I wish we could have met under happier circumstances.’

‘Yes, Mr. Tebbel,’ Norena said and looked away, struggling to control the emotion that surged over her.

‘We’ll get off,’ Algir said, turning to Graham. ‘I’ll telephone you as soon as I have some news.’ He turned to Norena. ‘The car’s at the door. Will you go on ahead?’

Graham took the girl’s hand.

‘Goodbye, Norena. You mustn’t worry. It’ll come out all right. It generally does.’

‘Goodbye, doctor and thanks.’ She turned quickly and left the room.

‘Is her luggage ready?’ Algir asked. ‘I don’t think she’ll be coming back. This is her last term, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it’s her last term. She’s only packed a bag. I’ll have the rest of her things sent on to her home.’

‘Fine. I’ll get off. Well, let’s hope.’

The two men shook hands, then Algir hurried down the steps and got into the Buick by Norena’s side.

He sent the car down the long drive-in and out on to the Alain Street. He drove with restrained care through Greater Miami. He itched to shove his foot down hard on the accelerator, but he was very conscious that an accident or a traffic infringement could foul up the most desperate plan he had ever embarked upon to make big money.

It was while he was steering the Buick through the heavy traffic of trucks heading for the Florida Keys that Norena said hesitatingly, ‘Mr. Tebbel, is my mother really dangerously hurt?’

‘She’s pretty bad, Norena,’ Algir said. ‘You mustn’t worry. There’s nothing either of us can do right now.’

‘It was a car, wasn’t it?’

‘That’s right. She stepped off the pavement and the driver didn’t have a chance of stopping.’

‘Was... was she drunk?’

Algir stiffened. He glanced quickly at the girl at his side. She was staring through the windshield, her face pale and set.

‘Drunk? What do you mean? That’s not a nice thing to say about your mother, Norena.’

‘Mummy means more to me than any other person alive,’ the girl said with such fierce passion that Algir winced. ‘I understand her. I know what she has been through. I know she did everything for me. She sacrificed herself for me. I know she drinks. Was she drunk?’

Algir moved uneasily.

‘No,’ he said finally. ‘Now look, Norena, I’ve got some thinking to do. I’m working on a case. You sit quiet, will you? Just don’t worry. I’ll get you to your mother as quickly as I can, alright?’

‘Yes. I’m sorry to be a nuisance.’

Again Algir winced. His big suntanned hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. He didn’t want to know this girl. He wanted her to remain a complete stranger to him as Johnnie Williams had been a complete stranger to him. It had been simple enough for him to walk into Williams’ bedroom and shoot him five times through the heart. He hadn’t known the guy. It was like shooting at a stuffed dummy. If he allowed this girl to talk, to make mental contact with him, how could he bring himself to kill her?

Even now, those few words she had spoken had upset him. He could feel a film of cold sweat on his face and a sick feeling of horror building up inside him.

He was through the congested motorway out of Miami now and was on the first broad stretch of highway 4A. Leaning forward, his eyes intent on the road ahead, he sent the big car surging forward.

The aircraft on the night flight from New York touched down at the Miami airport exactly on schedule. As the passengers crowded into the reception lobby, the hands of the wall clock stood at 07.30 hours.

Among the passengers was a slimly built girl of seventeen years of age. There was something elfin-like in her attractive, sharp-featured face. She wore a white headscarf, bottle green suede jacket, tight black pants that fastened under her flat-heeled shoes and a white scarf knotted at her throat. Her bra lifted her breasts to a provocative angle, and her neat, small buttocks had a cultivated ducktail swish that caught the eye of every man in the lobby.

She was very sure of herself. A cigarette drooped from her full red lips, her blue eyes had a flinty hardness, and when the men stared, she stared back with hostile, challenging contempt.

Ira Marsh, Muriel Marsh Devon’s youngest sister, had been brought up in a Brooklyn slum. Her sister, twenty-two years her senior, had left home and had disappeared out of the lives of the Marsh family before Ira was born. Her mother had produced eleven children and Ira was the last of the brood. Four of the boys had been killed in a drunken car crash. Two others were serving life sentences for armed robbery. Four of the girls, including Muriel, had simply walked out of the slum that had served them as a home and hadn’t been seen nor heard of since. If it hadn’t been for Ticky Edris, Ira would never have learned that her eldest sister lived as a prostitute and a drug addict. Not that she would have cared one way or the other. Her sisters and her brothers meant as much to her as her father, a drunken old lecher, against whom she had to lock her bedroom door.

One evening, some four months ago, a smiling dwarf had been waiting outside her tenement block in a red Mini Cooper. Ira was returning from the Public Baths where she had spent a luxurious hour soaking her beautiful little body in hot water, washing her hair and generally preparing herself for the jive session she always attended on a Sunday night.

At the sight of her, the dwarf slid out of the car and planted himself in front of her. He was wearing a brown sports jacket with patch pockets, grey flannel slacks and a brown baseball cap worn at a jaunty angle over his right eye.

‘If you’re Ira Marsh,’ he said, his smile bright, his eyes watchful, ‘I want to talk to you.’

She stared down at the little man, frowning.

‘Out of my way, Tom Thumb,’ she said sharply. ‘I’m fussy who I talk to.’

Edris giggled.

‘It’s about your sister Muriel. Don’t be snooty, baby. Muriel is a special pal of mine.’

Already the women sitting on the iron balconies of the tenement block were staring down at these two. The kids had stopped playing their street games and were converging on them, hooting and pointing at Edris.

Ira swiftly made up her mind. She knew her sister only by name. She found herself suddenly curious to know more about her. She stepped to the car and slid into the passenger’s seat. Edris trotted around to the driver’s seat and drove down the street, followed by a screaming bunch of kids who were quickly left behind.

‘My name’s Ticky Edris,’ he said as he drove. ‘I’m putting together a little job that could make you and me some money.’

‘Why me?’ Ira said. ‘You know nothing about me. Why me?’

‘There’s nothing I don’t know about you,’ Edris returned. He slowed by a vacant building lot and pulled up.

A month ago in one of her blue moods, Muriel had mentioned her youngest sister. ‘I’ve never even seen her! If I hadn’t run into one of the old crowd living near my home, I wouldn’t have known she was born. Think of it! A sister as old as my daughter, and I’ve never even seen her!’

It was this random remark that had given Edris the key to a problem he had thought up to now insoluble. He had got in touch with an Inquiry Agency in New York and had instructed them to find out everything that was to be found out about a seventeen-year old girl named Ira Marsh. For two hundred dollars, the Agency came up with a five-page report that had given Edris the information he needed and the firm conviction that with this girl, handled right, his problem was practically solved.

From a number of less important details, he learned from the report that Ira Marsh was a wild one. She had a J.D. rating with the local police, but had been smart enough never to have come up before a judge. She was known as an expert shoplifter and store detectives never let her out of their sight when they saw her come in. She was associated with the Moccasin gang, a leading mob of teenage terrorists who were continually clashing with the police and rival gangs in the district. The leader of the Moccasins was Jess Farr, an eighteen-year old thug who had hacked, coshed and cut his way to his present indisputable position. Six months ago, the report stated, Farr had been going round regularly with a girl named Leya Felcher. She was the same age as Farr, a tough, handsome virago who had imagined her position as Farr’s mistress was unassailable. Ira had decided she wanted Farr and she wanted Leya’s position. In a crowded cellar under a warehouse, watched by the male members of the gang with Farr as the prize, the two girls, stripped to the waist, fought nail-tooth-and-fist in the longest and bloodiest battle the Moccasins had ever seen.

Ira had known that she would have to fight for Farr and she had taken the precaution of training for the battle. For three weeks, she had lived like a Spartan and had paid regular visits to Mulligan’s Gym run by an old pugilist who, let into the secret, had trained her as he used to train himself with the gleeful certainty that she couldn’t fail to win.

As Farr’s girl, Ira had become more and more involved with the gang’s activities. She was always on the spot to cheer them into battle. Often she was used as bait to break the uneasy peace that from time to time was arranged between the gangs.

The report concluded with these words:

On paper, Ira Marsh seemed the ideal candidate for the difficult job Edris had for her. As he sat in the Mini, examining her attractive little face, he became even more confident that she would do.

‘I’ve been making inquiries about you, baby,’ he said. ‘I like what I’ve learned. Do you want to make some money?’

All the time Edris had been driving and now as he talked, Ira had been studying him as narrowly as he studied her. Her instincts told her this little freak was to be taken seriously.

‘It depends on two things: how much and what I have to do for it,’ she said.

Edris patted the steering wheel with his stumpy hands and smiled.

‘Are you a gambler, baby?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘How much money do you want?’

‘As much as I can get.’

‘I don’t mean that. Do you ever dream about money? I do.’ Edris crossed one short leg over the other. ‘I’m always dreaming about having money. Don’t you?’

‘I guess so.’

‘How much money do you dream about having?’

‘Much more than you could give me.’

‘But how much?’

‘A million dollars.’

‘Why stop there?’ Edris said and giggled. ‘Why not ten million — twenty million?’

She glanced at her cheap wristwatch.

‘Let’s stop playing games. I have to be home in another ten minutes. I have a date tonight.’

‘Suppose I showed you how to make fifty thousand dollars,’ Edris said softly, ‘would you be ready to take a risk?’

She looked at him and she could tell by the expression in his eyes he was serious and she felt a sudden quickening of her blood.

‘What have I to risk? I don’t own anything.’

‘Yes, you do. You have the same possession I have and which I am going to risk. It depends on the value you set on it. Fifty thousand dollars is a nice sum of money. The risk isn’t very great, but it does exist. You will be risking your freedom, baby, as I’ll be risking mine.’

‘What makes you think my freedom is worth fifty thousand dollars? My freedom?’ She laughed. ‘There is nothing I wouldn’t do to have that kind of money.’

He studied the bitter, hard smile that remained after the laughter, and he nodded, satisfied.

‘You’ll have to earn it, baby, make no mistake about it. I have a very special job for you, but you’ll have to earn it.’

‘How?’

‘Before I tell you that, let me tell you the background of this thing.’

It was then she learned about her sister and her marriage, and how her sister had run away with the baby and had finally become a streetwalker.

‘Your sister is a heroin addict,’ Edris said. ‘There’s nothing anyone can do for her. I give her four months. not more. She’s dying on her feet.’

Ira sat forward, her face in her hands, her elbows on her knees, her blue eyes cloudy with concentration, so absorbed that she forgot her date with Jess, forgot the Sunday night jive session, forgot everything except the piping, whispering voice that dripped its poison into her ears.

Finally, Edris got around to explaining what he wanted her to do. It sounded like a plot from some movie, and at first, she decided without telling him, that he was crazy: a freak with a hole in his head, but as he talked on and on, she began to see that such a plan might work and if it did, the money was there.

‘He’s never seen his daughter,’ Edris concluded. ‘He’s heard nothing of her for sixteen years. There is a family resemblance. I can see it. You look uncommonly like Muriel. He’ll see it too. From that angle, there is nothing to worry about. He’ll accept you as his daughter without question. You can see that, can’t you?’

Yes, she could see it. She knew from what her mother had said that she did look like Muriel when Muriel was her age.

‘But what about the daughter? The one I am to impersonate?’ she asked. ‘What about her? Suppose she hears about me?’

‘She won’t,’ Edris said and rubbed his hands together. ‘She’s dead. She died last week. That’s why I’m here. If she was alive, we couldn’t do it. It was only when Muriel told me she was dead that I dreamed up this idea.’ He looked searchingly at her face to see if she accepted these lies. ‘Even now we can’t do anything until Muriel dies. But that won’t be long... three or four months.’

Ira moved uneasily.

‘How did the daughter die?’

‘She was swimming, got cramped and drowned,’ Edris lied glibly.

‘Can’t something be done about Muriel?’

‘No. She’s as good as dead now.’

Ira sat silent, staring through the windshield of the car.

‘Well?’ Edris asked impatiently. ‘Will you do it? There’s little risk.’

‘I’ll think about it. It wants a lot of thinking about. Be here this time next Sunday and I’ll tell you one way or the other.’

‘I can’t come up from Paradise City again, baby,’ Edris said. ‘This is part of my yearly vacation. I have to earn a living.’ He took a card from his wallet. ‘Here’s my address. Send me a telegram when you have thought it over. Keep it short: yes or no. There’s no great hurry. We can’t do anything until Muriel dies. Plenty of time to get things right, baby, and they certainly have to be right.’

She thought of this first meeting with Edris as she walked through the reception lobby of the airport and made her way to the bus terminal. She had seen him twice since then. He had put a lot of polish on his plan during the four months’ wait. She couldn’t see now how it could go wrong. She had taken leave of her father, telling him she had a job outside New York and wouldn’t be coming back.

He was too drunk to care. Her one regret was leaving Jess Farr. She didn’t tell him what she was going to do. He would have asked too many questions. She told herself there must be many better and more exciting men to be had when you owned fifty thousand dollars. She told herself that, but she didn’t believe it. She discovered to her irritation that she was more in love with Jess than she realized. She would miss him.

Watched by male eyes, she moved out of the shadows of the airport, crossed into a patch of early morning sun and got aboard the bus for Seacombe.