Vanishing Ladies

Chapter eleven

There was no sense in taking off after her. Even if I’d have found her, she’d done all the talking she was going to do. I sat down at the table and knocked off the remaining two hamburgers. When the counterman saw I’d finished the main course, he brought me my chocolate cream pie.

I was beginning to feel a little better. I’m the kind of fellow who likes to eat. You know, there are those who eat to live, and those who live to eat. I’m not exactly a live-to-eater, but I do like food. Also, when I’ve gone for any amount of time without stuffing something into my mouth. I get so I can’t even think too straight. I was beginning to think a little straighter. or at least as straight as I’d ever thought. And I had to admit that things looked a little better. Ann was safe. Or at any rate Blanche had said so. Mitchell was on his way, and there wasn’t a better cop in the 23rd. There were also a few other things I now knew which, while not entirely clearing up the picture, at least helped in that direction.

For one, there had been trouble in cabin 11 last night. Blanche had heard yelling and screaming and cars. Maybe the blood was a result of that trouble.

For another, I was fairly certain that no matter what else Mike Barter ran, he also ran a good-sized brothel.

That didn’t put me any closer to finding Ann.

I paid my check and then went out to the street. I figured I’d better head back to Barter’s motel if for no other reason than to pick up my bag and my car. I didn’t know what ideas Mitchell would have when he arrived, but I wanted to be ready for whatever he suggested. Even if he didn’t have an idea in his head, I felt a lot better just knowing he was on his way.

I caught a cab outside the bank and told the driver I wanted to go to Mike Barter’s motel.

‘At the Point?’ he said.

‘Yes.’

‘Got to give you a flat rate on that.’

‘What’s the rate?’

‘Five bucks,’ he said.

We drove out to the motel. The Caddy with the SB licence tag was still in front of the office. A little Ford was parked alongside it. Barter was nowhere in sight. My own car was parked just a little to the right of and behind the Ford. I got out of the cab and went straight to cabin 12. I wasn’t surprised to find that the bloodstain along the wall had been scrubbed clean. I changed my clothes, packed whatever was hanging around, and then carried my bag to the car. As I passed the office, I heard voices. I stopped.

It’s impolite to eavesdrop unless you’re a cop.

‘I know she’s here,’ a man’s voice said, ‘so don’t give me any of that crap.’

The voice that answered him was low and throaty. ‘I prefer not to listen to profanity,’ it said. ‘If you’re going to start swearing, you can leave right now.’

‘Where’s Lois? That’s all I want to know,’ the man said.

‘And I told you. She left. This morning.’

‘Where’d she go?’

‘To the railroad station. She said she was going back home.’

‘How come she didn’t tell me anything about it?’

I could almost hear the woman shrugging. ‘How would I know? She made up her mind suddenly. She said she was leaving, and she left.’

‘Did she leave alone?’

‘No. I drove her in with one of the other girls. Walked her to the station, in fact.’

‘What was she wearing?’

‘A white dress,’ the woman said.

‘This was at the railroad station in Sullivan’s Corners?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m going to check there,’ the man said.

‘Go ahead, check. We stopped for coffee in town, too. At The Green Door. You can check there, too.’

‘I will. You can damn well bet I will.’

‘You have a foul mouth,’ the woman said.

‘I’m leaving. Your story better be right, or I’ll be back.’

The woman started to say something else, but I took off then and went to O’Hare’s car. I opened the trunk and threw the bag in. Then I got behind the wheel, backed out of the court, and headed up the road. I pulled into the first cutoff I came to, and I killed the engine, and then I waited.

The Ford came along in about five minutes. I started the car and took off after it. If the driver knew about the twenty-five-mile speed limit, he didn’t give a damn. He took the road’s bumps as if he were testing Goodyear rubber. I had a lot of respect for O’Hare and his Chevy, but I didn’t want to lose this guy, so I tested the tires too. We both rumbled into Sullivan’s Corners, and my young friend went straight to the railroad station. I got out of the car, went into the station to buy a magazine from the stand there, and watched him while he talked to the ticket seller.

He couldn’t have been more than twenty-nine, sort of short, but packed with muscle that came from hard manual labor. His hair was a bright red. He wore dark grey trousers and a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the biceps. I paid for my magazine, and then went out to sit in the car. In a few moments, the redhead came out and piled into his Ford. He drove straight through the middle of town and then abruptly pulled to the curb. I didn’t have to pull in behind him. I cruised down the street until I found a parking spot, and then I got out quickly and doubled back. The Ford was parked in front of a doughnut and coffee joint called The Green Door. The redhead was inside talking to the cashier. I watched him for a few moments, and then went back to the car. I kept looking in the side mirror until I saw the Ford pull into the stream of traffic again. I edged out a little. When the Ford passed me, I pulled in right behind my redhead.

He made a right turn at the corner, and then a left, and that took him to the traffic circle where the town began. He pulled up in front of the hotel. I pulled up two cars behind him. When he got out, I got out.

By the time I entered the lobby, he had already got his key and was in the elevator. I went straight to the desk.

‘That red-headed fellow,’ I said.

‘Yes?’ the clerk answered, looking up.

‘George Bradley, isn’t he?’

‘No,’ the clerk said, patiently correcting me. ‘That’s Mr Simms.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said, snapping my fingers. ‘How stupid of me.’

‘John Simms,’ the clerk expanded, smiling.

‘He’s on the fourth floor, isn’t he?’ I asked. This was no remarkable deductive feat since Simms had been alone in the elevator, and the elevator floor indicator was now stopped at the numeral four.

‘Yes, 407,’ the clerk said.

‘Thank you.’

I went to the elevator. I waited, watching the indicator. The door opened. ‘Four,’ I said.

‘Two fours in a row,’ the elevator boy said, grinning. ‘Tough to make Little Joe twice in a row.’

‘Tougher to make seven twice in a row,’ I said.

‘Depends on the talent,’ the elevator boy said. ‘You looking for action?’

‘Not with dice.’

‘With broads?’

‘You got some?’

‘You name it.’

‘A big blonde.’

‘You got it.’

‘A big blonde named Stephanie,’ I said.

The elevator boy studied me for a moment. ‘You familiar with the area?’ he asked.

‘Not half as familiar as I’d like to be.’

‘Where’d you pick the name Stephanie?’

‘Ran into her in a bar. Lost her later. Know where I can find her?’

‘The Stephanie I’m thinking of ain’t for sale.’

‘Maybe we’re not thinking of the same girl,’ I said.

‘I guess not, mister.’ He paused. ‘There are other big blondes.’

‘I’m choosy.’

‘So be,’ he said, and he shrugged and added, ‘Four.’

He threw open the door, and I got out. I waited for the door to close, and then I looked for room 407. When I found it, I knocked.

‘Who is it?’

‘Phil Colby,’ I said.

‘Who?’

‘You don’t know me. Open up, Simms.’

‘Just a minute.’

The door opened. Simms had green eyes and a suntanned face. The eyes were narrowed now. ‘What do you want?’

‘I want to talk to you.’

‘What about?’

‘Lois,’ I said.

Simms studied me. ‘Come in,’ he said. I followed him into the room. It was furnished with a brass bed, a dresser, and an easy chair. A Gideon Bible was on the dresser. Alongside that was a bottle of cheap rye.

‘You want a drink?’

‘No, thanks.’

‘I’ll have one,’ Simms said. He poured half a water glass full, and then drank half of that. He made a sighing, rasping sound and then said, ‘What do you know about Lois?’

‘Only that she’s missing.’

‘Where is she?’

‘You tell me.’

‘What is this?’ Simms asked.

‘Was she at the station this morning?’

‘Yes. Station guy says he saw her.’

‘How does he remember?’

‘Three good-looking dames come in together; you’d remember, too.’

‘Three?’

‘Blonde, redhead, brunette. Must have set the town on its ass. The cashier remembered them, too.’

‘What’s Lois?’

‘Huh? Oh. The brunette.’

‘Pretty?’

‘I’m gonna marry her.’

‘Still. Is she pretty?’

‘She’s gorgeous.’

‘What was she doing at Mike Barter’s place?’

Simms looked at me again. ‘How come you’re so interested?’

‘I lost something there, too.’

‘What’d you lose?’

‘A girl.’

‘Is she a—’ Simms stopped himself. ‘What was she doing there?’

‘She was in a cabin. She vanished — clothes, luggage, everything.’

‘Yeah,’ Simms said, as if he were confirming the facts of his own situation. ‘It ain’t like Lois. She woulda told me. She would of at least called. I know she would of called.’

‘What was she doing at Barter’s place?’ I asked.

Simms studied me. ‘She... had a job there.’

‘What kind of a job?’

‘A job.’

‘That doesn’t answer me.’

‘It’s not supposed to,’ Simms said indignantly. ‘Listen, I’m gonna marry that girl.’

‘What’s that got to do with her job?’

‘A lot. Listen, I took enough baloney about Lois. I don’t happen to care what she done. I don’t believe in that stuff.’

‘What stuff?’

‘About what a girl done or she didn’t do. She loves me now, so what difference does it make? We’re gonna get married. She’ll make a good wife.’

‘She probably will.’

‘I know she will. She’s the sweetest kid in the world. And she pleases me. I know, ‘cause I been to bed with her.’

‘I didn’t ask.’

‘I’m telling you, anyway,’ Simms paused. ‘I been to bed with her.’ He paused again. ‘Now you’re supposed to say “You and a thousand other guys.” ’

‘But I didn’t say it,’ I said.

Simms seemed surprised. ‘No, you didn’t,’ he said. He poured himself another drink. ‘You sure you don’t want one?’

‘Too early in the day for me.’

‘I thought maybe you was one of these guys who don’t touch it.’

‘No,’ I said.

‘Well, I thought maybe you was.’ He looked at me. ‘Cheers.’ And he threw off the shot. ‘You want to know how I feel?’ he asked.

‘About what?’

‘Dames.’

‘Sure.’

‘I don’t buy this stuff.’

‘Which stuff?’

‘What they done and what they didn’t do. You know what’s wrong with people?’

‘No, what?’

‘We all the time forget we’re animals. We got minds, but we’re also animals. So everything we do, we try to disguise we’re animals. A guy meets a dame, something happens. In the songs, they say chemistry. It ain’t chemistry. It’s biology. Animals. Like when two dogs meet on the street, he don’t ask her she wants a martini or she wants to see his etchings. They know what it’s all about. They don’t have love stories to read, and love movies to see. They don’t get mixed up. The mutt knows, and the bitch knows, and they make it. Period.’

‘What line of work are you in, Simms?’

‘I drive a truck. For a beer company.’

‘I thought you might be a vet.’

‘I am. I used to be a Marine.’

‘I meant a veterinarian.’

‘That I ain’t.’ Simms thought about it. ‘You mean because of the animals? I get a lot of time to think when I’m driving. You know what it is people hate to do most?’

‘What?’

‘You sure you don’t want a drink?’

‘I’m positive.’

‘I’ll have another, if you don’t mind. I tell you the truth, this thing has me kind of puzzled. A few drinks usually set me straight.’ He poured and drank. ‘What was I saying?’

‘About what people hate to do most.’

‘Oh. Yeah. They hate to touch other people.’

‘They do?’

‘They don’t really. I mean, I think what they’d like to do most is touch other people. But they’re afraid to. You know why?’

‘Why?’

‘Because then it gets animal. Instead, they reach out with their minds. Mister, you can only reach so far with your head.’

‘That’s for sure.’

‘How do you tell another guy you’re his friend?’

‘I don’t know. How?’

‘You shake hands with him. You touch him.’

‘That has a medieval origin,’ I said. ‘Men shook hands so they’d know the other man wasn’t carrying a dagger in his hand.’

‘Origin, shmorigin. They touch hands, and for a second they’re saying we’re animals. Then they pull the hand back. With a man and a woman, it’s the same. Listen, don’t you see this is all bullshit?’

‘What is?’

‘You can sit down with another guy’s wife for three hours. You can talk all around what you really want to do, you can talk it inside out and backwards, upside down and right side up, so long as you got a drink in your hands, and so long as you keep smiling at each other. A big game. Everybody plays it. But put your hand on her knee, or put your arm around her shoulder, bang! Her husband comes in and starts yelling you’re seducing his wife! For Christ’s sake, you been seducing her for the past three hours, anyway! It don’t make sense.’

‘Hardly anything does.’

‘But this especially. What I’m saying is this. There’s like a big taboo, you understand? This taboo says, “Don’t touch!” It applies from when you’re kids just dating, to when you’re married, to when you got one foot in the grave. Marriage makes touching all right. When you’re married, you get to be one person. You got no secrets, anyway. You belch, you yell, “Hey, I got to get into that John!” you spill things at the dinner table — in other words you share with another person the secret that you are only an animal with a mind. So the masterminds figured out where if you’re belching, you might just as well be touching. But that’s where the taboo is lifted, and no place else. And I say the taboo is a big crock.’

‘What are you really trying to say, Simms?’

‘I’m trying to say I’m gonna marry a prostitute. A whore. A harlot. A hooker. A slut. Me. I’m gonna marry one. I love her, and screw you.’

‘I’ve got no objections.’

‘It wouldn’t make a damn if you did. I wouldn’t even care if you was one of the guys rolled with her, now what do you think of that?’

‘I think it’s an admirable attitude.’

‘There ain’t nothin’ admirable about it. It’s common sense. She’s been touched, and the others ain’t. Who cares? Who knows these other guys? What the hell did she give them but her body? You see what the trouble with everybody is?’

‘No. What?’

‘They got it figured out so that the cheapest thing you can give to another person is your mind. You sit around and bullshit, and you’re dishing out little chunks of your mind. They got it figured so that the big premium is on your body. This is the thing you don’t give away without a struggle to the death. Well, mister, they got it figured out all bass-ackwards. I can be made, I admit it. But I’m careful about who I give what’s up here.’ He tapped his temple. ‘Up here is what counts. The rest is all animals.’

‘You sound as if you’re contradicting yourself,’ I said.

‘Maybe I am. Who cares? You want a drink?’

‘No. Tell me about Lois.’

‘A doll,’ Simms said. ‘Listen, I been around, and this is a doll.’

‘What’s she like?’

‘A doll. Didn’t you understand me? What’s a doll — but a doll?’

‘Brunette?’

‘Yeah. That means black hair, don’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Brunette,’ Simms said, nodding.

‘Eyes?’

‘Of course.’

‘The color, I meant.’

‘Oh. Brown. Like candy kisses.’

‘Short? Tall?’

‘Bigger than me. Some guys this would disturb. Me, it don’t. I say it don’t matter how tall a guy is, so long as he feels big. I’m only five-eight. This is a shrimp nowadays. You meet guys are six-four. A generation of basketball players. I know some short guys, everything about them gets short. You can give me two guys, both five-six, put them in the same room together. One guy looks like a midget. The other guy, you never even stop to think how tall or how short he is. You think a mutt ever stops and wonders how tall another mutt is? You ever see a Chihuahua male pause before trying to mount a Great Dane bitch? Never happened, mister. Lois is tall, and I like her tall. When we go out together, she wears whatever kind of shoes she wants Flats, heels, it makes no difference to me. She wears whatever makes her feel best, whatever makes her feel beautiful. And when she feels beautiful, I feel handsome. I feel big. I don’t need no built-up shoes. All I need is her on my arm. And also, she fills up a bed. I like a bed that’s all filled up. I don’t like empty corners.’

‘Why’d she go to Barter’s place?’

‘Why do you think?’

‘But why there?’

‘Why not? Good loot. I told you, we’re getting married. We can use all the loot we can get our hands on.’

‘Where’s she from?’

‘The next state. Me, too. Can’t you tell? I got an accent a mile long. These hicks don’t dig it.’

‘And she was staying at Barter’s place?’

‘Only to work. She was registered here at the hotel. That’s what I don’t get. Everybody says she left town, but she didn’t check out of this place.’

‘When did she arrive?’

‘Two days ago. She called me the first night, and then she said she’d call me again the next night. That was last night. When I didn’t get her call, I tried to reach her at Barter’s but the number ain’t listed. The people here at the hotel said she wasn’t in her room. This morning, I come right over the river. Man, I love that girl, you understand?’

‘Did she tell you anything about the place when she spoke to you?’

‘Only that she thought she could make a lot of money. She planned to stay a month, did I tell you? So how come she pulls up stakes now?’ Simms paused. ‘Something’s mighty fishy. They told me at the station she got on a Davistown train. Why Davistown?’ He paused again. ‘How come you ask so many questions?’

‘Force of habit,’ I said, smiling.

The room got very quiet. Simms poured himself another drink. The whisky splashed into the glass. He didn’t seem short at all. He seemed very tall. He sloshed the liquor around for a moment and then swallowed it. He looked at me steadily.

‘You’re a cop, ain’t you?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Vice Squad?’

‘No.’

‘What then?’

‘Just an ordinary dick. I’m on vacation. My girl disappeared at Barter’s place.’

‘So now you’re messin’ with it?’

‘Yes.’

‘All this stuff I told you about Lois...’ Simms hesitated.

‘What stuff?’

‘You know, about her being...’

‘I didn’t hear a thing,’ I said.

‘I mean...’

‘I didn’t hear a thing. We’ve been discussing life, haven’t we?’

Simms smiled. ‘What did you say your name was?’

‘Phil Colby.’

He extended his hand. ‘Simms. Johnny. You can call me Johnny.’

I took his hand.

‘I ain’t shaking with you because I want to find out whether or not you got a dagger,’ Simms said. ‘I’m saying we’re friends.’

‘I hear you.’

‘Are we?’

‘I’m shaking hands,’ I said.

‘Good.’ Simms paused. ‘I’m still gonna snoop around. If you need help, let me know. I got to find her, Colby.’

‘Phil,’ I said.

I left him and walked through the town. I had about an hour before meeting Mitchell, and it was the longest hour I ever spent in my life. After he arrived, we sort of went our separate ways because he thought he could accomplish more, not being known to Barter or the local cops. He told me later what happened, but that would probably be hearsay, and the best thing would be to have him here to tell it himself. But he’s on a plant right now, and his job is law enforcement, and he’s a more indispensable cop than I am. I have his deposition here, which I’ve been advised might be admitted as evidence. Whether it’s admitted or not, I’d like permission to read it now because it fills in some of the gaps between my talk with Simms and what happened later on.