The Way the Cookie Crumbles

Chapter Eight

Ticky Edris opened his eyes and blinked at the bedside clock. The time was 08.30 hours and the morning sun was bright against the drawn curtains.

Through his bedroom door, he could hear Algir’s snores. Algir had been up, working on the key, when Edris had returned from La Coquille restaurant a little after 03.00 hours.

Edris felt a prickle of excitement as he thought about the key. He had overheard one of Garland’s friends who was dining at the restaurant say the Garlands had won over a hundred thousand dollars on their last night at the Casino.

Even if Mrs. Garland had only stashed away half their winnings, the key would be more than worth the trouble Algir had taken with it.

He closed his eyes, and for some minutes, he dozed, but his mind became too active for further sleep and throwing off the sheet, he clambered out of bed. He walked silently into the sitting room. Algir was sleeping on the settee. He stirred uneasily as Edris went into the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, shaved and showered, Edris went to the front door to collect the milk and the morning newspaper.

Algir stirred and sat up as Edris came into the sitting room.

‘Getting coffee?’ he asked hopefully as he stretched.

‘Yeah.’ Edris walked into the kitchenette and plugged in the percolator. Then, leaning against the wall, he flicked open the newspaper.

The banner headlines splashed across the paper made him catch his breath. He stared, the paper rustling in his hands that had become unsteady. His mouth turned dry and his heart began to skip beats:

UNKNOWN BLONDE FOUND STRANGLED AT CORAL COVE.

Unmindful of the coffee that was beginning to boil, Edris read the account of the finding of the body, stared at the photograph of Hess’s fat son, then switching off the percolator, he walked stiffly into the sitting room. He was so mad and shaken he could have killed Algir.

Algir was sitting on the bed. He had put on a light dressing gown and he was yawning and scratching his head. When he saw Edris’ white face and the rage smouldering in his eyes, he stiffened.

‘What’s up?’

Silently, Edris handed him the newspaper.

Algir read the headlines, then the blood drained out of his face. He got unsteadily to his feet.

‘Judas!’ he gasped. ‘They’ve found her!’ He tried to read the account but his hands shook so violently and his eyes were so blurred with fear he couldn’t read what was written there. Cursing, he flung the newspaper to the floor.

‘What do they say?’

Edris went to the cocktail cabinet and poured two stiff whiskies into tot glasses.

‘What do they say, damn you!’ Algir shouted.

‘Knock it off!’ Edris snarled. ‘Here, drink this.’

Algir grabbed the glass and tossed the whisky down his throat. He poured himself another.

‘I’m getting out of here!’ he muttered. ‘Damn you, Ticky! I should never have listened to your crack-brained scheme. I...’

‘Shut up!’ Edris’ voice was vicious. ‘It’s all your fault! I told you to bury her somewhere safe! Buried! You slob! For a kid to dig her up! You call that burying?’

Algir drank the whisky and again filled his glass. The whisky warmed him and he began to recover his nerve. He sat down and picked up the newspaper.

‘I buried her all right. This is bad luck.’

‘Yeah? I could kill you, you slob!’ Edris was dancing with rage. ‘You’ve blown the lid of the most beautiful take in the world! Damn you! Why didn’t I do it myself?’

Steadier now, Algir picked up the newspaper and read the account. Then he said, ‘Well, they don’t seem to know who she is and they say there are no clues. As long as Ira acts her part, how can they guess the bitch is Norena?’

Edris controlled his rage. He snatched the newspaper from Algir, sat down and reread the account.

‘Yeah,’ he said finally. ‘We could still swing it. Maybe they’ll never find out who she is.’

‘Oh, no!’ Algir said getting in a panic again. ‘I’m clearing out. This isn’t safe anymore. I know cops. They hold back when they talk to the press. They could know who she is right at this very minute.’

‘The chances are they’ll never find out who she is,’ Edris said. ‘They’ve got nothing to go on. It says her face has been half eaten away by ants and what’s left of it is unrecognizable. It says she has no identifying marks and no dental work. So how the hell can they identify her?’

Algir thought about this, but he wasn’t convinced.

‘But suppose they have found something and they’re keeping it back?’

‘Found what?’ Edris snarled. ‘If they had, they would put it in the paper. They want to identify her, don’t they?’

Algir blew out his cheeks. He finished his whisky, then feeling slightly drunk, he began to prowl around the room.

‘All the same, I’m going, Ticky. I have twenty thousand dollars and that’ll hold me. I’ll try to get on a plane to Cuba this afternoon.’

The last thing Edris wanted now was for Algir to quit. Without him, he couldn’t hope to lay his hands on the Garland money. Containing his temper with difficulty, he picked up the key to the Garland safe that was lying on the table and shook it in Algir’s face.

‘This could be worth a hundred grand!’ he shrilled.

‘Are you passing up that kind of money?’

Algir hesitated.

‘We can’t pull the job until tomorrow, by then they may know who she is. Once they know that, they’ll go to the school and that teacher will give them a description of me. It’ll be easy for them to pick me up. No, the hell with the money! I’m going while the going’s good.’

‘To hell with fifty thousand dollars? Are you crazy?’ Edris cried, jumping to his feet. ‘How long do you imagine twenty thousand fish will last you? Now, listen, Phil, do what I’m going to do. We’ll both leave tomorrow afternoon. I’ll come with you to Cuba, but we’ll have the Garland money with us.’

Algir glared at him.

‘I wouldn’t take you with me to hell! Every cop in the country could spot you, you stinking freak! Going around with you would be like hanging a neon sign around my neck.’

Edris was so enraged he could scarcely breathe. With sweat running down his face, he somehow managed to control himself.

‘Well, all right,’ he said, his voice strangled. ‘Then we split up, but we’ll get the Garland take first.’

‘Not me!’ Algir said. ‘I’m leaving this afternoon.’

Edris looked at him for a long moment, his little eyes red with hate, then he realized he just had to persuade this gutless creep to cooperate and he quickly decided to play on Algir’s greed.

‘Okay then, if you feel that way about it, then I’ll take the lot.’

Algir paused in his pacing to stare at Edris.

‘What do you mean?’

‘We’re partners but if you’re running out on me, then I’m entitled to all the money I get from the Garland safe.’

‘You can’t get it, you fool! You can’t get it without me!’

‘Yeah? You’re wrong, I can make Ira bring it out. It’s in a fat envelope. All she has to do is to stick the envelope down her pants and walk out with it and she’ll damn well do it or I’ll fix her!’

‘But listen, you stupid punk,’ Algir said, his eyes uneasy now, ‘the cops will have you by tomorrow morning. Can’t you see that? If they find out Ira isn’t Norena and they will, she’ll talk, and then you’re in the crap.’

‘I’m telling you they won’t find out that fast,’ Edris said calmly. ‘I’m willing to take that risk for dough like this. I know Terrell. Okay, he’s sure, but he’s slow. I could stay right here in this apartment for another week and still be safe.’

Algir poured himself another drink. His face was thoughtful now and watching him, Edris could see he was nibbling at the bait.

‘You really think that?’ Algir said, turning to face Edris.

‘Of course I do. You don’t imagine I’d risk my neck if I wasn’t sure?’

Algir tossed the whisky down his throat. He told himself he would be crazy to let Edris have that hundred thousand fish when half of it rightly belonged to him.

‘Well, maybe I will wait until tomorrow,’ he said slowly. ‘I could get the afternoon plane out tomorrow.’

‘If you’re still nervous, get off today,’ Edris said, now enjoying himself. ‘Besides, I could use your share, Philly boy. You get off now.’

‘Shut up, damn you!’ Algir snarled. ‘Half that money belongs to me and I’m going to have it!’

‘Well, okay, if you’ve made up your goddamn mind,’ Edris said and he went into the kitchenette and started the coffee brewing again.

He had to have Algir, he thought, but he cursed the day he had picked him. Algir was right. As soon as he got the money, he would have to get out of Paradise City. The cops could pick him up so easily. He had only to show himself on the street for anyone to recognize him. But there was still a chance the cops wouldn’t identify the girl. He would clear out and wait. If nothing happened after a few months, he would come back. Ira would still be at the bank. He would find someone else to take Algir’s place.

His scheme wasn’t entirely sunk.

But where to go until he was sure he was safe?

Mexico? Could be an idea. He poured coffee into two cups. It wasn’t as if he would be short of money. He might have himself a good time in Mexico. And if Algir really imagined he was going to get his share, he was in for a surprise.

All Algir was going to get for being a hero was a slug in the back.

For some, this hot Sunday passed slowly; for others it passed fast.

Ira thought the day would never end. Soon after ten, Mel had left to meet Joy. They planned to spend the day at the beach cabin. He asked Ira along, but she had refused.

‘You two love birds want to be alone. I’m fine,’ she had said with a lightness she didn’t feel. ‘I’m going to the Club.’

When Mel had gone, she went up to her room and sat by the open window. She had twelve days ahead of her before she left. She still wasn’t sure where she would go. She wasn’t afraid of the future. She knew how to look after herself, but she bitterly regretted leaving Mel, this house and her room.

She lit a cigarette and put her feet up on the window sill. She hated the thought of Edris and Algir getting away with the money she had helped them to steal, but there was nothing she could do about that without getting into trouble herself. At least, by going away, she would stop them getting any more. But for twelve more days she would have to go on getting key impressions for them and this worried her.

After much thought, she finally decided what she would do when Mel and Joy left for their honeymoon. Her best plan would be to drive to the beach cabin, change into the clothes she had come in to Paradise City, tint her hair dark, leave the car and walk to the highway where she could catch a Greyhound bus to Miami. From there, she would take another bus to Texas. With the money she had saved, she would have no trouble, and once in Texas, she would get a job.

The day passed slowly for Algir who sat by the radio listening to every news announcement, afraid to go out and cursing himself for ever getting involved with Edris.

Around ten o’clock, he called the airport and booked a seat for the Havana flight the following afternoon. He packed his bag. Then with nothing else to do, he again sat before the radio, sweating it out and reading and rereading the newspaper account of the finding of Norena’s body.

Edris was much more in control of his nerves. He left the apartment while Algir was calling the airport. He drove to La Coquille restaurant where he found the maître d’hôtel planning the menu for the evening. He told him that he had to go to New York where an old friend was dying and asking for him. Louis said he could go if he had to, but he couldn’t expect to be paid while he was away.

‘That’s all right,’ Edris said, longing to spit in Louis’ face, but determined to keep up good appearances to the end. ‘I understand that. I’ll get back as fast as I can, but I could be away for ten days. I’m sorry, Mr. Louis, to let you down.’

Outside the maître d’hôtel’s office, he made an obscene gesture at the door before going down to where he had parked his car. He drove to the airport and booked a seat on the Mexican flight, leaving the next afternoon.

The time was now midday. He drove back to Paradise City, parked his Mini and went to a nearby bar. He ordered a double whisky on the rocks and a chicken and ham sandwich. While he was eating, Bert Hamilton of the Sun wandered in.

‘Hello there,’ Hamilton drawled, coming to rest beside Edris. ‘How’s my court jester?’

Edris smiled at him.

‘Swell. How’s yourself?’

‘Lousy.’ Hamilton ordered a straight whisky. ‘I was up nearly all night with this murder thing. You read about it?’

‘Sure.’ Edris finished his drink and ordered another. ‘I always read your rag, Bert. What’s new?’

‘Nothing so far. No one knows who the girl is. Between you and me, I don’t think they’re going to find out either, but don’t quote me. Whoever she is, she must have come from miles away. The cops have reports in from all Florida now and there are no girls matching her description missing. So now they’re spreading the net. She could come from New York. anywhere.’

‘Captain Terrell’s a smart man,’ Edris said. ‘He’ll find her if anyone can.’ He looked questioningly at Hamilton. ‘Haven’t they one single clue then?’

Hamilton, who hadn’t been told about the spectacles, shook his head.

‘Not one, no scars, no dental work, fingerprints don’t help, no body marks, no nothing.’

Edris finished his drink and slid off the stool. He felt suddenly relaxed and carefree.

‘Well, I’ll get along. See you, Bert,’ and nodding he bounced out of the bar.

The day dragged for Jess Farr. He spent it on a deserted part of the beach by himself. He was anxious that no one should see him. It would be a lot safer for him, he reasoned, after he had done what he planned to do the following morning if no one remembered him. He also remembered what Ira had said about the cops picking him up, dressed the way he was. He wasn’t going to let that happen if he could help it.

So he planned to stay on the beach and sleep in the rented car. He had brought food with him. He swam, smoked and drank too much. He hated being alone. He thought the day would never end.

The day passed too swiftly for the men of the Homicide squad. Every available man at the headquarters had been thrown into a search for information regarding the broken spectacles. The lab boys had come up with some useful information considering what they had had to work on.

At 07.45 Terrell was still at his desk. Beigler and Hess were with him. The three men were drinking coffee and smoking. Terrell was looking through the report from the lab for the third time. He seemed to be trying to squeeze more information out of it than it actually contained. The lab boys had classified the two lenses of the broken spectacles. They said the owner of the spectacles suffered from acute astigmatism and would have to wear the spectacles constantly. The right eye was more affected than the left.

This was something to work on and raised Terrell’s hopes.

He had already sent three of his men out to all the wholesale opticians within a radius of a hundred miles as a start.

‘Never mind that it’s Sunday. Find out where the top man lives and get him to open up the factory,’ Terrell said. ‘I want to know who those lenses were supplied to and I want to know today!’

He had told Jacoby to call the hospitals and eye specialists listed in the classified telephone book.

Another three men were trying to trace the factory that had made the plastic frames of the spectacles. Here again, this would be no easy task as the factories would be shut for the weekend, but Terrell would listen to no objections.

He now picked up the report on the plaster casts of the heel impressions found near Coral Cove. The report was brief but interesting. The man they were looking for was close on six feet tall and weighed 190 pounds. The number 10 shoes he was wearing were practically new. They were supplied by ‘The Man’s Shop’, a swank outfitters in Paradise City. A police officer was already on his way to try to find the assistant who had recently sold such a pair of shoes.

Putting down the report, Terrell said, ‘What’s your next move, Fred?’

‘I guess I’ll go out to Coral Cove and see what the boys are doing. It’s light enough now for a good look around. Okay with you, Chief?’

Terrell nodded and when Hess had gone, he poured more coffee into his paper cup and looked over at Beigler.

‘I was hoping something would break after last night’s broadcast.’

‘Saturday night’s a bad night. Most folk are out. There’s a repeat in five minutes. I’ll get back to my desk,’ Beigler said, moving to the door.

When he had gone, Terrell took a towel and shaving kit from his desk drawer and went along to the Men’s room.

Beigler found Lepski sitting in the Detectives’ room, smoking and dozing. Jacoby was talking on the telephone. As Beigler sat down and lit a cigarette, Jacoby replaced the receiver and swung around in his chair.

‘Dr. Hunstein has two patients with eyes that match our prescription,’ he said. ‘A girl of twenty-three and another of twenty-five. Both blondes. Both local girls.’

‘Find out if they are missing and find out if they’ve ever owned a pair of blue plastic spectacles,’ Beigler said, then looked at Lepski as Jacoby began to dial. ‘Those spectacles need not have anything to do with the stiff. Thought of that?’

‘You’re paid to do the thinking, Sarg,’ Lepski said with a grin. ‘I’m only paid to do the leg work.’

Ten minutes talking by Jacoby produced the information that neither of the girls were missing and neither of them had ever owned a pair of blue plastic spectacles.

‘Keep at it,’ Beigler said, drawing a line through Dr. Hunstein’s name.

The telephone bell rang. Beigler sighed and lifted the receiver. Then began a stream of useless information inspired by the broadcast appeal that had to be checked and that poured into Beigler’s ear for the rest of the morning.

At lunchtime, Terrell ate a sandwich and then decided to go to Coral Cove to see what Hess was doing. As he got into his car, he thought that the morning had gone like a flash and they were no further to finding out who the girl was than if they had all spent a nice relaxing morning at home.

He remained with Hess for two hours. Every inch of the hummocks and the surrounding ground had been searched and had produced not one single clue.

‘A stiff ’un,’ Hess growled, wiping his sweating face. ‘I’ll come back with you, Chief. Maybe by now there’s a lead on those spectacles.’

Back at headquarters, they found Beigler with the first of the lists of names and addresses that had just come in.

‘Believe it or not, we have thirty-two girls between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five who wear spectacles of our prescription,’ he told Terrell. ‘Three of them live here. Ten in Miami. Twelve in Jacksonville. Three in Tampa and the rest along the Keys. None of them have been reported missing, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t missing.’

Terrell grunted.

‘Get Max onto it. Let’s find out if they owned the spectacles.’

Beigler gave the list to Jacoby who went over to the telephone, a resigned expression on his face.

‘There’s a guy on his way in who might be interesting,’ Beigler went on to Terrell. ‘He claims he saw a girl and a man driving towards Coral Cove around eight o’clock in the morning on the 17th of last month. that would be six weeks ago.’

Terrell’s face brightened.

‘Fine. When he arrives, bring him to my office.’ Seeing Lepski was about to light a cigarette, he said, ‘Give Max a hand with that list. I want some action around here!’

When he had gone, Lepski lifted his eyebrows.

‘Getting the old man worried?’ he asked.

‘It’s getting me worried!’ Beigler snapped. ‘Get going! Do some work!’

Lepski joined Jacoby and pulled another telephone towards him. He examined the list of names and addresses, then said, ‘Hey Joe! You see the Devon girl is on this list?’

Beigler looked at him, an exasperated expression in his eyes.

‘Yeah. I can read. What of it? We know she’s not missing. So what?’

Lepski stubbed out his cigarette and lit another before saying, ‘Only she doesn’t wear spectacles.’

‘So what?’ Beigler snapped. ‘Get on with it, Tom, for Pete’s sake! The trouble with you is you prefer to yak than to work!’

‘I said she doesn’t wear spectacles, Joe,’ Lepski said, patiently. ‘I’ve seen her four or five times driving her car. She doesn’t wear spectacles!’

Beigler stared at him, sudden interest in his eyes. He reached forward and picked up the Lab report on the lens. Then he stared at Lepski again.

‘I may like yakiting,’ Lepski said dryly, ‘but I’m a damn fine cop. The nickel dropped yet, Joe?’

‘It says here the owner of the spectacles has to wear them constantly,’ Beigler said, frowning. ‘You say her name’s on that list supplied by Dr. Weidman and she doesn’t wear spectacles?’

‘You’re coming along fine, Joe. Watch you don’t bust a vein in your brain.’

Beigler got to his feet and went over to where Lepski was sitting. He picked up the list and studied it.

‘That’s right. Norena Devon, Graham Co-Ed School, Miami.’ He rubbed his jaw. ‘Could be a mistake. I’ll talk to Weidman.’

He crossed back to his desk and put a call through to Dr. Weidman’s office in Miami.

The answering nurse said Dr. Weidman was out and wouldn’t be back until nine o’clock. She sounded a little hurt that anyone would want to talk to the doctor on such a nice, sunny Sunday afternoon as this one was.

‘This is Paradise City police,’ Beigler said. ‘I want information on one of Dr. Weidman’s patients.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss Dr. Weidman’s patients with anyone over the telephone,’ the nurse said primly. ‘You must come and see the doctor if you need information,’ and she hung up.

‘Cow!’ Beigler said and slammed down the receiver. ‘Hey, Tom! Get off your arse. Go out to Miami and find Dr. Weidman. We can’t wait until he comes back. Talk to him. You know what we want.’

Lepski jumped to his feet. Anything was better than staying in the hot, stuffy, Detectives’ room.

‘Okay, Sarg, I’ll find him,’ he said and hurried off.

The telephone bell rang.

Charley, the desk sergeant, said, ‘Joe, I’ve got Mr. Harry Tullas down here. He says you want to see him.’

Tullas was the man who had phoned in, claiming to have seen a girl and a man driving towards Coral Cove.

‘Shoot him up, Charlie,’ Beigler said.

Harry Tullas was a tall, heavily built man, wearing a cheap, but carefully pressed suit. As Beigler got up and shook hands with him, he guessed Tullas was a salesman of some kind, and he was right.

‘Thank you for coming in, Mr. Tullas,’ he said. ‘The Chief wants to meet you. Will you come along with me?’

‘Glad to,’ Tullas said. ‘I only hope I’m not wasting your time.’

Beigler led him into Terrell’s office and introduced him.

‘Sit down, Mr. Tullas,’ Terrell said, waving to a chair. ‘I understand you think you can help us.’

‘I listened to this broadcast this morning. I remembered this girl so I thought it wouldn’t do any harm to give you a call.’

‘I wish everyone was as public-spirited,’ Terrell said with feeling. ‘Have some coffee?’

‘No, thanks, never touch it.’

At a nod from Terrell, Beigler poured two paper cups of coffee, one for Terrell and the other for himself. Both men always worked better with coffee at their elbows.

‘Well now, Mr. Tullas.’

‘I represent Mellor’s Products, Captain,’ Tullas said. ‘Grocery. I call on all the little stores out this way from Miami to Key West. On 17th of last month I made an early start. I left Miami at seven-thirty in the morning.’

‘Just a moment, Mr. Tullas. Let’s get all this straight. We haven’t your address, have we?’ Terrell broke in.

‘377 Biscayne Street, Miami.’

‘Thanks. Now go on.’

‘I got onto 4A and I was heading for Seacombe where I had a couple of calls to make,’ Tullas continued. ‘The traffic was pretty heavy. In front of me was a Roadmaster Buick convertible with the top down. A man was driving and a blonde girl was at his side. The traffic was moving along around fifty miles an hour. Then suddenly this guy indicated by his trafficator he was going to turn right. I had to brake pretty quickly because I hadn’t expected him to turn right.’

‘Why was that?’ Terrell asked.

‘All the traffic was heading for Seacombe. The road this guy was turning into is the dirt road to Coral Cove. People just don’t go to Coral Cove during the week. It leads to nowhere but the sea. It’s a weekend place. I go there sometimes on Sundays with the kids.’

‘What time would this be?’

‘A little after eight o’clock. These two weren’t dressed for the beach. I thought it was a little odd. Then when I heard the broadcast, I thought I should call you.’

‘You did right. They went up this road and you lost sight of them?’

‘Yeah, but, later, I saw the man again in Seacombe.’

‘Tell me about the girl. Can you describe her?’

‘She looked around seventeen or eighteen. She wore a white shirt and a small black hat. Oh, yes, she wore blue framed glasses.’

Terrell and Beigler exchanged glances.

‘You say you saw the man again?’

‘That’s correct. I had made my calls in Seacombe and I was at the bus terminal filling up with gas. This guy pulled up near where I was standing. I recognized the car and I recognized him. He got out of the car and went over to where a girl was sitting.’

‘Just a moment, Mr. Tullas. What about the other girl?’

‘She wasn’t with him this time.’

Again Terrell and Beigler exchanged glances.

‘Now you say he picked up another girl?’

‘That’s right.’ Tullas grinned. ‘I’m a respectably married man with three kids, Captain, but this girl certainly attracted my attention. I reckon every man around had an eye on her. She had more sex in her little finger than some of the sex kittens you read about have in their whole bodies. Well, this guy went over to her and said something.

She said something to him. Whatever it was she said, it made him pretty mad. He got red in the face and he turned around and went back to his car. I’ve never seen a guy get so mad so quickly. I was interested, you understand, because I had seen him go up the dirt road with this other girl and here he was with another girl. Well, as I said, he got mad and I thought for a moment this glamour puss had given him the brush, but no, she got up and went after him and got into the car. They drove away, heading for Paradise City. That’s the last I saw of them.’

‘Did you get the licence number of the car?’

‘Why, no. I wasn’t interested in the car. It was a Buick Roadmaster convertible. That’s all I can tell you about it.’

‘Colour?’

‘Two tone: red and blue.’

‘New?’

‘About a year.’

‘And this man? Can you describe him?’

‘Sure. He looked like a law officer. That would be my guess or maybe a bank official. He was around six foot tall with massive shoulders; around 200 pounds at a guess. Handsome, blond, suntanned. He had a close cut moustache. He was wearing a brown straw hat and a fawn suit: a snappy dresser.’

Beigler suddenly sat forward. Something had nudged his memory.

‘Mr. Tullas, what age would this guy be?’

‘Oh, thirty-eight. forty.’

‘Was there anything else you noticed about his face: something particular?’

Tullas frowned.

‘I don’t know what you mean by particular, he had a cleft chin: sort of gave him a racy look, you know what I mean, like a film star.’

Beigler snatched up the telephone receiver while Terrell stared expectantly at him.

‘Max? Get me that photo of Phil Algir the New York police sent us. You know, the con man,’ Beigler said.

‘Algir?’ Terrell said, lifting his bushy eyebrows.

Beigler replaced the receiver.

‘Could be wrong, but the description fits. He ducked out of New York while they were getting a warrant for him. Could be him.’

‘While we’re waiting. can you describe this girl who went with him?’ Terrell asked Tullas.

‘You bet I can! I first saw her as I parked my car to make a call. She got off the Miami airport bus and she walked over to a bench and sat down. I spotted her because she had this ducktail walk.’ Tullas grinned. ‘She was certainly waving her prat around, Captain. Seen nothing like it since Monroe.’

‘What age would she be?’

‘Oh, eighteen or nineteen. She was about five foot six and well built. She wore a dark green suede jacket and tight black pants. She had on a white head scarf.’

‘She came off the airport bus?’

‘Yeah. She was still sitting on the bench when I had finished my call. Then this guy came up.’

Jacoby came in and put a file on the desk and then went away.

Beigler took a photograph they had been sent from the file and put it in front of Tullas.

‘That him?’ he asked.

Tullas stared at the photograph, then nodded.

‘Yeah. that’s him!’

When Tullas had gone, Terrell said, ‘Looks like we’ve got our break. Get after Algir, Joe. He may still be here, but I doubt it. Tell Hess I want him.’

Hess came into Terrell’s office a few minutes later.

Quickly Terrell told him what Tullas had said.

‘I don’t know who this girl is Algir picked up, but find her. She could lead us to him. She got off the airport bus a little after 08.15 hours. She must have come in on the New York flight. Check it, Fred.’

Hess walked into the Air Control office at the Miami Airport. A girl paused in her typing and looked inquiringly at him.

‘Paradise City police,’ Hess said and flashed his badge. As the girl got hastily to her feet and came over to the dividing counter, he went on. ‘I want to see the passengers list New York flight arriving here 07.30 hours on the 17th of last month.’

‘Yes, sir. I can give you that.’

She went away and Hess wandered over to a bench seat and sat down. He had left Terrell talking to the New York police on the telephone. An all-out hunt for Algir was being organized. What puzzled Hess after reading Algir’s record was why he had turned killer. There was no hint of violence in his long police record. Algir was a smooth operator. He didn’t have to use violence.

The girl came back with the passengers’ list.

‘You can keep that, sir,’ she said, handing it to Hess.

He studied the thirty-two names. One name made him stiffen and frown.

Ira Marsh.

That’s damn odd, he thought. Marsh? Could it be a coincidence? Muriel Marsh. Ira Marsh. Relations?

‘Got any dope on this woman. Ira Marsh?’ he asked the girl who was watching him with interest.

‘I have a copy of her ticket if that would help you.’

‘Yeah. let’s see it.’

The girl went to the file and after a little delay produced the ticket. It told him that Ira Marsh was travelling alone and she lived at 579, East Battery Street, New York.

‘Thanks,’ Hess said and leaving the office, he walked over to the Police Control barrier.

An hour and a half later, he was back at Police Headquarters, reporting to Terrell.

‘The girl Tullas saw at the Seacombe bus terminal is Ira Marsh,’ he said as he helped himself to coffee. ‘The boys at the Control barrier remember her. She seems to have imprinted herself on a lot of guys’ minds. Ira Marsh was on the New York flight. She took a bus from the airport to Seacombe. The point is who is Ira Marsh? We have her address. How’s about getting New York to find out more about her?’

‘Do that,’ Terrell said, ‘and fast. Find out if she happens to be related to Devon’s wife. She could have come down for the funeral, but what’s she doing with Algir?’

Hess had scarcely left the room when Beigler and Lepski came in.

‘Tom’s got something that could mean something, Chief,’ Beigler said. ‘Among the names of the girls who might have worn those spectacles is Norena Devon. Lepski has seen the girl driving around four or five times during the past weeks. He says she doesn’t wear spectacles. I sent him to talk to Dr. Weidman who issued a prescription. Take it from there, Tom.’

‘Well, I saw this guy,’ Lepski said. ‘There’s no mistake. Norena Devon has acute astigmatism. The right eye worse than the left. I showed the doc the lens and he says it was made to his prescription. He’s given me the name of the optician but the guy who fitted the glasses is away somewhere for the weekend. He’ll be back Tuesday morning.’

Terrell rubbed the back of his neck, frowning at Lepski.

‘I don’t get any of this. Why are you wasting your time chasing after this when we know Miss Devon isn’t missing?’

Lepski shifted his feet.

‘I thought it was odd. Miss Devon doesn’t wear spectacles.’

‘You mean she never wears them?’

‘I wouldn’t say that, but according to doc she would be half blind if she didn’t wear them always.’

‘Don’t you know girls don’t like wearing glasses?’

Terrell said impatiently. ‘She probably goes around half blind. Girls are like that.’

‘She drives a car without them.’

‘Okay, okay, I’ll talk to her father when I have time. Now, for God’s sake, Tom, let’s get down to something that’s important.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It’s close on nine o’clock and we’ve missed the news broadcast. Get Algir’s description out on the seven-thirty news broadcast tomorrow morning. Take that photo and start working the hotels. See if he’s staying in town. Get going!’

Lepski took the photograph, exchanged glances with Beigler and went out.

Terrell said, ‘And, Joe, don’t send men out on unimportant assignments when we want every man we can get to work on Algir. You should know better than to bother about Mel Devon’s daughter.’

‘Yes, Chief,’ Beigler said, crestfallen. ‘I thought it was odd.’

‘All right skip it!’ Terrell snapped. ‘Suppose you call up that dwarf Edris and find out if Muriel Devon ever mentioned this girl, Ira Marsh to him.’

‘He’ll be at the restaurant now.’

‘Call him there.’

Beigler went back to his desk. Hess was replacing the receiver on his desk.

‘They’re sending someone to East Battery Street and they’ll be calling back,’ he said, yawned and stood up to stretch. ‘Looks like another late night.’

Beigler grunted. He dialled La Coquille restaurant.

After a short delay, Louis, the maître d’hôtel, answered.

‘City Police. I want to talk to Edris,’ Beigler said.

‘He’s not here.’

‘Where is he?’

‘New York. He won’t be back for ten days. He’s visiting a dying friend.’

‘Well, at least he’s got a friend,’ Beigler said, and hung up.

Hess said, ‘You know what foxed me is why Algir turned killer. It’s rare for a con man to do that. What’s the motive? Must have been something pretty big.’

Beigler pulled the telephone towards him.

‘You worry about it,’ he said. ‘I’ve got my own worries.’ He called the General Motors Night Service. When a man answered, he said, ‘Paradise City Police. I’m trying to trace a Buick Roadmaster convertible. Two tone: blue and red, probably last year’s model. Any ideas?’

‘We’ve got three of them in the garage right now,’ the man told him.

‘The owner is six foot tall, big, blue eyes, blond hair and a snappy dresser.’

‘Oh, sure. We know him, Mr. Harry Chambers. He’s visiting down here.’

‘You haven’t his car there?’ Beigler said, sitting on the edge of his chair.

‘No. It was in last week. Haven’t seen him since then.’

‘He owe you anything?’

‘I don’t know. I’ll find out. Hold on.’

Beigler sat back and winked at Hess.

‘Got him first shot. Who says I’m not one hell of a detective?’

‘Luck,’ Hess said sourly.

The man came back on the line.

‘No. He paid up on the ninth. Our clerk got the idea he was leaving town.’

‘Know his address?’

‘He was staying at the Regent.’

‘Do you remember if this guy had a cleft chin?’

‘Sure. Big enough to lose a marble in.’

‘Thanks,’ Beigler said and smiling happily, he replaced the receiver. ‘He’s at the Regent or was and Tom’s walking his legs off trying to find him!’

Hess reached for the telephone. He called the radio room and told them to contact Lepski fast and tell him to go to the Regent Hotel.

Lepski picked up the message as he was driving along the Promenade. He swung the car down a side street and made for the Regent Hotel.

Ten minutes later, he was calling Terrell.

‘Algir left the Regent on the ninth; left no forwarding address. Looks like he’s left town.’

‘He could have run short of money. Start checking on the cheaper joints,’ Terrell said. ‘He could still be here.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Lepski said and after he had hung up, he groaned.