The Way the Cookie Crumbles

Chapter Seven

It was close on an hour later when Jess, hidden in the shadows of the palm trees, saw Ira come out of the cabin. She was now wearing slacks and a beach jacket and Jess grinned to himself. He watched her lock the cabin door and put the key on one of the rafters supporting the cabin’s roof. Then, moving slowly and painfully, she got into the T.R.4 and drove away.

Jess stood up and stretched. He felt satiated and relaxed and pleased with himself. He walked over to the cabin, took the key from its hiding place, unlocked the door and entered the living room. Turning on the lights, he tossed his duffle bag on the settee.

He felt in need of a drink. Going over to the cocktail cabinet he poured a stiff whisky into a glass. He went into the kitchen and got ice from the refrigerator, then he returned to the living room and dropped into one of the lounging chairs.

Jess, old pal, he thought, make yourself at home. You’ve got yourself into a sweet setup but you’ll have to be smart to handle it right. You’ve shown that doll you’re still the boss. She’ll give you all the money you ask for. If she doesn’t, all you have to do is threaten to talk to that punk Devon.

He gulped down the whisky, sighed and let the glass drop on the rug. May as well stay the night, he thought. Let’s take a look at the bedroom.

Humming under his breath, he walked across to the bedroom which had a double bed and was comfortably furnished.

Very nice, he thought, and stripping off his jacket, he tossed it on a chair. Then he went to the built-in closet, opened it and examined the beach wear he found in it. The clothes were all too big for his lean, narrow frame and with a grimace of disgust, he turned his attention to the chest of drawers.

The shirts, handkerchiefs and socks he found in the drawers were of no interest to him. He opened the last drawer and stiffened. Half hidden by a beach towel lay a .38 Colt automatic. For a long moment he stared at the gun, then with a prickle of excitement, he cautiously picked it up.

Ever since he had become the leader of the Moccasin gang, he had longed to own a gun. It had been his dream and his ambition. His breath whistled through his pinched nostrils as he examined the gun. After some moments, he discovered how to remove the clip and he found it held five cartridges. He sat on the bed, the clip in one hand, the gun in the other and stared with blank eyes at the opposite wall.

For a long time, he sat motionless, his mind busy, then finally a sly grin lit up his face and he nodded. He now knew what he was going to do. A gun, he thought, made him anyone’s equal. He could forget the small time stuff of getting money out of Ira. He was now in the position to make a big, quick killing.

Replacing the clip, he put the gun down on the bedside table and kicking off his boots, he flopped on the bed. He was still grinning as he reached out and snapped off the light.

Mel was finishing breakfast when Ira came into the lounge. He had been disappointed when he had returned the previous night soon after eleven o’clock to find the bungalow in darkness and Ira in bed. He had wanted to wake her up and tell her his news, but reluctantly decided not to disturb her. He had gone to bed much to Ira’s relief.

She had heard him come in and she had prayed he wouldn’t come to her room. She had passed a sleepless night, her mind tormented, her body aching. What was Jess now planning to do? she kept asking herself. She was sure he wouldn’t return to New York. She blamed herself for being such a fool as to tell him her story. She was now entirely in his hands. How could she have ever loved him?

Forcing herself not to think of Jess, she began to think of Edris. Here again, she could find no solution. She couldn’t even run away. Mel would immediately alert the police and if they found her, the whole story might come out.

Looking at her as she came in, Mel was startled to see how pale she was.

‘Hello,’ he said, lowering the newspaper he was glancing at. ‘You look a bit under the weather. Were you late last night?’

‘No.’ She sat down and listlessly poured herself a cup of coffee. ‘I’m all right. Don’t fuss.’ Forcing herself to look at him, she asked, ‘Well? What did Joy say?’

Mel grinned happily.

‘We’re getting married at the end of the month. I’ll have some free time then for the honeymoon. You won’t mind being left alone for four weeks?’

She immediately saw this could be her chance. With Mel out of the way, she would tell Mrs. Sterling she was going to stay with a friend and then quietly leave Paradise City. By the time Mel got back, she would be far away: just where she would go, she had no idea, but she would go.

‘No, of course not. Have you made plans yet?’

‘We’ll go to Venice, Italy. They say it’s just the place for a honeymoon.’

She finished her coffee.

‘Hmm. sounds nice. Well, my best wishes, Daddy.’

‘Thanks.’ He got up and came around to her. He rested his hand lightly on her shoulder. ‘You and Joy will get along fine together.’

He bent and kissed her on her cheek.

She stiffened, feeling a rush of emotion flow through her. Getting abruptly to her feet, she walked to the door.

‘I must get off. See you tonight, Daddy,’ she said and went quickly from the room.

Mel stared after her, a puzzled expression in his eyes, then with a shake of his head, he picked up his briefcase as he heard the T.R.4 roar away.

Soon after eleven o’clock, a tall, well-dressed woman came down the steps to the vault. She was Mrs. Marc Garland, the wife of the millionaire steel magnate. Ira had been alerted by one of the guards that she was coming.

‘She and her old man are leaving for New York this afternoon,’ he told her. ‘They cleaned up big at the Casino last night. I guess she’s going to stash her loot away. Watch her: she can get bitchy when she feels that way.’

Ira stood up as Mrs. Garland reached the bottom of the steps.

‘Good morning, Mrs. Garland,’ she said politely.

‘You’re Mel’s daughter, aren’t you?’ Mrs. Garland said, smiling. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’ She sat down in the visitor’s chair by Ira’s desk. ‘I knew your mother years ago, Norena.’ She studied Ira. ‘You’re very alike. I hear Mel’s getting married. Will you like that?’

‘Oh, yes, Mrs. Garland. I’m very happy for him.’

‘You’ve met Joy of course?’

‘Yes.’

‘She’s nice, isn’t she?’

‘I like her very much.’

‘I’m sorry I haven’t met you before. We always have lots of young people up at our place. Next year you must meet my son when he comes down here for the vacation.’

She opened a large handbag and took from it a heavily sealed envelope. ‘Would you be nice and put this in my safe? Here’s the key.’

‘Of course, Mrs. Garland,’ Ira said, her heart suddenly racing. She took the envelope and the key. Then she went around her desk, opened the drawer and took out the pass key. For a moment she hesitated, then picked up the small lump of putty she kept in the drawer. Concealing it in her hand, she hurried down the lane, turned right and reached the Garlands’ safe. She carefully took the impression of the key before she opened the safe. Then she paused. Why bother to take the impression? She had only to put the envelope down the front of her girdle to save Algir the task of cutting the key.

Let him cut it! she thought. He won’t get the money now before Monday. As she put the envelope into the safe, she glanced at the safe’s contents. There were several jewel boxes and a number of thick envelopes to match the one she had just put in. She closed the safe door and locked it.

As she turned she became aware that Mrs. Garland had wandered to the head of the lane and was idly watching her. Ira felt a rush of cold blood up her spine. What an escape! she thought, for a moment unnerved. If she hadn’t put the envelope in the safe, Mrs. Garland would have seen her stealing it!

‘If you ever come to New York,’ Mrs. Garland said as Ira joined her, ‘do look us up. I’m always trying to persuade your father to stay with us, but he’s so occupied.’

‘I’d like to,’ Ira said, trying to steady her voice, ‘but I’m afraid it’s not likely I’ll get to New York.’

‘Well, if you do, remember. Goodbye, Norena,’ and leaving her, Mrs. Garland hurried away.

At lunch time Ira went over to the cafe where Algir was waiting.

‘Well?’ he demanded as she joined him.

Silently she handed him the box containing the key impression.

‘Who’s this belong to?’

‘Mrs. Marc Garland.’

‘Any money in the safe?’

‘Yes, a lot.’

‘Okay. I don’t have to tell you what to expect if you’re lying,’ he said, slipping the box in his pocket. ‘You won’t get a second chance, you little creep. Remember that!’

She turned away and walked out of the cafe. She was so occupied with her thoughts she failed to see Jess Farr across the street in a shabby Ford he had rented. Neither did Algir notice him as he drove off in his Buick.

A cigarette hanging from his thin lips, Jess set the Ford in motion and followed Algir back to Edris’ apartment block.

Fred Hess settled himself more comfortably against the sand dune and released a small, contented belch. He had just completed an excellent picnic lunch, the sun was warm, the breeze gentle and the sound of the sea soporific.

This was his first free weekend from police headquarters for some time and this Saturday morning, he had decided to take his wife Maria and his son Fred to a favourite bathing place they used and to spend the day there.

The only fly in the ointment, Hess thought as he folded his hands over his paunch, was Junior. Hess liked other people’s children, but he wasn’t all worked up about his own. The trouble was, he so often thought, the brat’s spoilt. Maria, a doting mother, but a stern wife, wouldn’t let him lay a hand on the kid, and if ever a child needed a constant walloping on his fat backside it was Fred Hess junior.

But for the moment all was peace. Maria had taken Junior down to the sea where he was busy splashing water at her white dress and enjoying himself.

Hess had announced that he was taking a nap. Junior had wanted him to play ball. There had been a heated argument, and Maria fearing for her husband’s blood pressure had grabbed Junior’s hand and had dragged him out of the hearing of Hess’s highly coloured vocabulary.

This was the life! Hess thought as he closed his eyes.

What more could a man want? It was pleasant to think of the others sweating it out in the hot, stuffy Detectives’ room at headquarters. Joe Beigler was duty sergeant, and right now he would be answering the telephone, trying to sound polite as the callers asked their crummy questions or told him about the dog they had lost or the car they had had stolen. Well, Joe was welcome to all that. Hess grunted happily and let himself drift off into sleep.

He slept for fifteen minutes, then the arrival of Junior brought him scowlingly awake. It gave him some satisfaction to see Maria examining her dress with apprehension. If she would let the kid throw water at her, then that was her funeral.

‘Go away,’ he said to his son, a small, fat boy with an aggressive chin and a determined expression that made him the image of his father. ‘See how far you can run without your legs falling off.’

The boy ignored him. He picked up his sand spade and approaching his mother, said, ‘I want to bury pop.’

Maria sat down in the shade. She was a large comfortable looking woman of thirty-five. She wasn’t a beauty, but she had strength of character and kindness, and Hess, after ten years of married life, wouldn’t have exchanged her for any other woman in the world.

‘Well, all right,’ she said, ‘but do it quietly. Your daddy’s tired and wants to rest.’

‘Hey!’ Hess said indignantly. ‘I want to be left in peace and I’m not going to be buried!’

‘I want to bury pop!’ Junior said, thrusting out his chin.

‘Now, Fred,’ Maria chided, ‘you know all kids like to bury people.’

‘Is that right? Then let him bury you.’ Hess also thrust out his chin. ‘He’s not burying me!’

‘I want to bury pop!’ Junior cried, raising his voice.

‘He doesn’t want to bury me, honey,’ Maria pointed out. ‘He wants to bury you.’

‘I’m not deaf. If he comes near me, he’ll get a thick ear.’

‘Now look, Fred, you mustn’t be selfish. It’s Junior’s day out as well as yours,’ Maria said. ‘I can’t see how it can bother you if he puts a little sand on you. Kids like to do it.’

‘I don’t give a goddamn what kids like. I don’t like it!’

Hess said, growing red in the face.

‘Fred Hess! I’m ashamed of you using language like that before your own son!’ Maria exclaimed, genuinely shocked.

‘Goddamn! Goddamn! Goddamn!’ Junior cried, hopping up and down, happily aware that his father was now in the wrong and determined to profit by it.

‘Junior, stop it!’ Maria said severely. ‘Don’t let me ever hear that word from you again.’

‘I don’t see why. Pop uses it!’ Junior said with a cunning look at his father.

‘Daddy shouldn’t use it,’ Maria said.

‘Naughty old pop! Naughty old pop!’ Junior sang, dancing up and down. ‘He shouldn’t use goddamn, but he does!’

‘Now see what you’ve done,’ Maria said angrily, glaring at her husband.

Hess thought it rather funny, but he kept his face straight with an effort.

‘The kid’s got to learn sometime,’ he said airily. ‘Now you beat it, Junior. I want to sleep.’

‘I want to bury pop,’ Junior said, a whine in his voice.

There was a long pause, while Maria looked exasperatedly at her husband.

‘If you want any peace, Fred, you’d better let him do it. You know what he is. He’ll go on like this all the afternoon.’

‘I want to bury pop!’ Junior screamed at the top of his voice, sensing victory.

‘Perhaps if I fetched him one,’ Hess said in a wheedling voice. ‘Just a little clump on his ear. Won’t hurt him much. Stun him a bit. What do you say?’

‘Fred Hess!’ Maria said in an awful voice.

Hess shrugged.

‘Oh, well, no harm in suggesting it.’

Junior who knew he was safe from his father’s heavy hand so long as his mother was there began to grow red in the face while he screamed he wanted to bury his father.

‘Hey, Junior,’ Hess said, suddenly inspired. ‘I want to tell you something.’

Junior paused in his noise and looked suspiciously at his father.

‘What?’

‘You see that big sand dune over there. the big one?’ Hess said, pointing to a high bank of sand some hundred yards away.

Junior stared at it.

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll tell you something very interesting about it, but first you must promise never to tell anyone. It’s a great big secret.’

Junior began to look interested.

‘What sort of secret?’

Hess beckoned.

‘Come closer. I don’t want anyone to hear this.’

Intrigued now, Junior approached his father and knelt by his side.

Hess resisted the temptation to slap him. Lowering his voice, he said, ‘An old man went to sleep there last night. He’s a nice old man. He likes kids. He carries lots of meat pies around with him to give to kids.’

If there was one thing Junior liked more than another, it was a meat pie and Hess knew it. The boy’s face lit up.

‘What happened to him then?’ he asked, staring across at the sand dune.

‘He got buried,’ Hess said. ‘He got buried right under that big sand dune. He was asleep and the wind blew and the sand buried him and all his pies. You go and dig him up.’

‘Are the pies still there?’

‘Of course they are,’ Hess said. ‘Nice big pies with pastry made with butter and lots of juicy meat in thick, rich gravy.’ His own eloquence made him suddenly hungry and he wished Maria had thought to bring some pies for a teatime snack.

‘Gee!’ Junior’s eyes widened. ‘But how’s the old man, isn’t he dead, buried like that?’

‘He’s all right. He’ll be so pleased if you dig him up. He’ll give you all his pies. You go and see.’

Junior hesitated. He wasn’t quite sure if Hess was having a game with him or not.

‘Will you come and help me dig him up?’ he asked.

‘I certainly will,’ Hess said, making a show of getting up. He had anticipated this request and was ready for it. ‘But if I help you, we’ll have to share the pies. My share will be bigger than yours because I am bigger than you.’

Junior scowled.

‘I don’t see why you should have more pies than me.’

‘Well, I do. I’m bigger and more hungry.’

Junior hesitated.

‘I’ll do it myself then,’ he declared and catching up his spade, he began running towards the sand dune.

‘I’m ashamed of you,’ Maria said, trying to keep her face straight. ‘Telling lies like that. You’ll be sorry. Just wait till he finds out there are no pies.’

Hess grinned and settled down once again.

‘By the time he has, it’ll be time to go home,’ he said. ‘Now, I’m going to sleep.’

He looked over to where his son was frantically digging, gave a beatific smile and closed his eyes. He hadn’t been asleep for more than ten minutes when he was awakened by Junior’s excited screams. He struggled upright, his face red with wrath.

His son was dancing up and down, waving to him.

‘Pop! Come quick!’ he screamed. ‘It isn’t the old man. it’s a woman and she stinks!’

Dr. Lowis came striding across the beach as the police photographer completed his work.

Terrell, Beigler and Hess stood near the high sand dune while members of the Homicide squad carefully completed removing the body Junior had found from its shallow grave.

‘She’s all yours,’ Terrell said to Lowis. ‘Let’s have a quick report, doc. Looks like she’s been strangled.’

Lowis nodded and went over to the body.

‘You know,’ Hess said inflating his chest, ‘that kid of mine will make a great cop. If it hadn’t been for him, the stiff could have remained there forever.’

‘Takes after you,’ Beigler said with a grin.

‘Yeah. It’s the way I brought him up,’ Hess said, pleased.

‘All right, boys,’ Terrell said. ‘Let’s get at it. Get some more men up here, Fred. Every inch of this ground around here has to be searched.’

Hess nodded and hurried off.

‘With her face the way it is,’ Beigler said gloomily, ‘we could have trouble identifying her, Chief. The killer must have either taken her clothes or buried them somewhere.’

‘Any girls missing within the past six weeks?’ Terrell asked.

‘Not in our district.’

‘We’ll wait to hear what doc has to say, then you get back to headquarters. We want a description of her in the papers tomorrow and on the radio and TV tonight. You handle that, Joe.’

‘Okay.’ Beigler watched the breeze send swirls of sand moving along the beach. ‘This shifting sand isn’t going to help. We can’t hope to find any prints. He must have brought her out by car and he must have come prepared. The sand there is too hard for him to have dug the grave with his hands. He must have had a spade with him.’

Terrell nodded.

‘Yes, and he didn’t want her identified. A run-of-the- mill rapist doesn’t take the woman’s clothes away. He must have known if she is identified, she could be hooked to him and that means they must have known each other.’

An ambulance appeared up the dirt road and parked by the police cars. Two interns came hurrying across the sand with a stretcher. Hess who had been using the short wave radio joined Terrell and Beigler.

‘The boys are on their way now,’ he said and then went on to speak to the three Homicide detectives who were on hands and knees carefully sifting the loose sand of the grave.

The two interns waited until Dr. Lowis had completed his hurried examination of the body, then at a nod from him, they opened the stretcher, scooped the body onto it, covered it with a canvas sheet and hurried away with it to the ambulance.

Terrell and Beigler moved over to Dr. Lowis who was shutting his bag.

‘Well, doc?’

‘Murder, strangulation with some violence,’ Lowis said briskly. ‘She’s been dead about six weeks. Putrefaction is well advanced. She put up a struggle. What’s left of her face has extensive bruising. I can give you more details when I get her to the morgue.’

‘Was she raped?’ Terrell asked.

‘No.’

Terrell and Beigler exchanged glances, then Terrell shrugged. They now had to find a motive for the murder.

‘What age would she have been, Doc?’

‘Between seventeen and nineteen.’

‘Any identifying marks?’

‘No.’

‘Is she a natural blonde?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Okay. Let’s have your report soonest. She wasn’t pregnant, was she?’ Terrell was still hoping to get at the motive.

‘She was a virgin.’ Nodding, Dr. Lowis set off across the beach towards his car.

‘Okay, Joe, you get off,’ Terrell said. ‘Check with Miami for any missing girl of her age. If they don’t come up with anything, we’ll have to throw the net further. Get the press on the job and alert the radio and TV people. I want lots of publicity on this one. It’s our best chance of identifying her.’

Beigler went off and Terrell joined Hess.

‘Anything, Fred?’

‘She wasn’t murdered here,’ Hess said, looking up. He was squatting on the sand, examining the grave. ‘She must have bled from the nose and mouth, but there’s no trace of blood. As soon as the boys arrive, I’ll get them to search those hummocks.’ He pointed. ‘Could be he did it there.’

‘We won’t be able to do much more tonight,’ Terrell said, looking up at the darkening sky. ‘Another hour and there won’t be light enough to see in there. Well, I’ll leave it to you. I’ll get back to headquarters.’

Four hours later, Terrell still at his desk called his wife, Caroline.

‘I’m going to be late, honey,’ he said. ‘Another couple of hours at least.’ He briefly told her about finding the body. ‘This one’s going to be tricky.’

‘All right, Frank,’ Caroline said. ‘I’ll keep something for you in the oven. Do you know who the girl is?’

‘That’s the trouble. We’ve got no lead on her at all.’ As he was speaking Beigler came in. Terrell raised his eyebrows at him. Beigler shook his head. ‘Well, I’ve got to get on. See you sometime, honey,’ and he hung up.

‘Nothing?’ he said to Beigler.

‘Not yet. Miami and Jacksonville have no missing girl. They’re checking the villages. Got doc’s report yet?’

‘Yes. It’s here.’ Terrell waved to a number of typewritten sheets on his desk. ‘Nothing much to help us. She was strangled violently. The cartilages of the larynx and the hyoid bone were fractured. Her nose was broken. Whoever hit her had a heavy punch. She has no operation scars, no birth marks. She came from a good type of family. Her nails and her hair were well looked after.’

‘How about her teeth?’

‘No luck there. She had a perfect set of teeth. No dental work in her mouth at all.’

Beigler poured himself a cup of coffee from the carton on the desk.

‘Any news of Fred?’ Terrell asked, also helping himself to coffee.

‘He’s still out there. He persuaded the fire brigade to join him with arc lamps.’ Beigler grinned. ‘You know what Fred is like. Once he gets stuck into a killing, he’ll go on until he turns up something.’

‘Yeah.’ Terrell pulled Lowis’ report towards him and began to study it again.

Beigler finished his coffee, lit a cigarette and then pushed himself away from the wall he was leaning against.

‘I guess I’ll get back to my desk,’ he said.

‘There’s one thing.’ Terrell looked up from the report. ‘Not that it helps much. She was killed less than an hour after having had breakfast. So it was a daylight killing.’

Beigler grunted.

‘What was she doing out there so early?’

‘She could have been a late riser and had breakfast late.’

‘Yeah.’ Beigler shrugged. ‘I’ll be around, Chief,’ and he went out of the room.

Terrell relaxed in his chair, his mind busy. As ideas came to him, he jotted them down on a scratch pad. After a while he pushed the pad away, got up and wandered into the Detectives’ room.

Beigler was reading a report. Lepski was pounding a typewriter. Jacoby was talking on the telephone. The hands of the wall clock pointed to 21.05 hours. The three men looked up at Terrell.

‘I’m going home,’ he said to Beigler, ‘but I’ll be back in a couple of hours, then you can get off. There’s not much more we can do tonight. We might get a break from the TV or the papers tomorrow morning. Someone might have seen her, but six weeks is a long time.’ As he turned to the door, it opened and Hess, his fat face shining with sweat, his eyes gleaming, came in.

‘I’ve found where she was knocked off, Chief,’ he said. ‘And I’ve found something else.’ He put on Beigler’s desk a pair of pale blue plastic framed spectacles. The right lens was missing and the left ear piece was broken off short.

‘This was under a shrub about three feet from where she died.’

Beigler got to his feet and peered at the spectacles.

Lepski joined him.

‘Let’s have it, Fred,’ Terrell said, sitting on the side of the desk and picking up the spectacles.

‘We went into the hummocks,’ Hess said. ‘With the lights to help out it wasn’t too bad. After a while we came on a narrow footpath that leads to the dirt road from highway 4A. At the end of the path we found the grass flattened and the sand churned up as if there had been a struggle. There was blood on the sand and on the leaves of a shrub. Not far from the shrub is a dense thicket and behind it we found heel impressions of a man’s shoe. Jack’s bringing the plaster casts as soon as they’ve set. Looks like the killer was hiding in the thicket waiting for her and jumped out on her. His first punch probably knocked her glasses off.’

Terrell squinted through the lens.

‘Quite a lot of magnification here. Lepski, take this down to the lab boys right away. With any luck this could be an out-of-the-way lens. Get all you can on the frames.’

He glanced at Hess. ‘Find any bits of the other lens, Fred?’

‘Got them here.’ Hess took an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Lepski who went off fast.

‘I’ll be in my office,’ Terrell said, thinking regretfully of the ‘something’ in the oven, waiting for him. ‘Let’s have your report as fast as you can type it, Fred,’ and he returned to his office to telephone Caroline.