Vanishing Ladies

Chapter seventeen

I put the .38 into my jacket pocket, and started up for the car. There was a cold wind blowing in off the lake, a wind which would speed the rain’s coming. I slammed into the convertible, started the engine, and backed out of the court. I took the bumping medieval road doing sixty all the way. I turned left into Sullivan’s Corners and then raced through the town, past the traffic circle, past the blinking yellow caution light. The stars had deserted the sky long ago. The clouds were rolling in, in bunches, piling up like hordes of black sheep. In the distance, I heard the solemn roll of thunder, saw the answering feeble spit of lightning.

I pushed the gas pedal down to the floorboards when I hit the highway. The speedometer climbed to eighty. The thunder and lightning were moving closer now, coming in with the sudden fury of a summer storm. You could smell dust in the air, whirling dust, and the heavy pregnancy that comes before water bursts from the womb of the sky. It was going to rain like hell. It was going to wash the town of Sullivan’s Corners clean of blood.

The lone headlight appeared magically behind me, like a Cyclops’ eye in a black-masked face. I heard the wail of the siren, and I kept my foot pressed to the accelerator because now I knew that Ann was in serious trouble and nothing was going to stop me, not Planett and his flunkies, not the state cops, not the militia.

He pulled alongside on his motorcycle.

‘Pull over!’ he shouted.

‘Screw you!’ I shouted back.

The state academy had trained him well. He pulled his gun from its holster and yelled, ‘I’ll fire in three seconds!’

I jammed on the brakes, and the car screeched to a skidding halt. The motorcycle pulled in beside me. By the time Fred got off the seat, I’d rolled over, yanked the .38 from my pocket, and pointed it straight at his head. He looked up into the muzzle of the Smith and Wesson. His own gun was in his hand, ready. We faced each other across the narrow blued barrels.

‘Have you had to fire that since you’ve been a cop?’ I asked.

‘What?’

‘Have you had to fire that gun?’ I shouted.

‘No.’

‘Neither have I. One of us’ll have to in the next few minutes, Fred. I’m not going to jail again, and I’m not being stopped. Now how about it?’

The rain started. The thunder blasted the sky, and the lightning crackled in yellow-white luminescence. The drops were huge and heavy. They poured down in buckets, and we stood facing each other over the guns.

‘You’re a crazy bastard,’ Fred shouted over the roar of the thunder. ‘Why didn’t you get out of this when you still could?’

‘I still can,’ I said. ‘No more bullshit, Fred. Either you turn your bike around and head in the other direction, or I start blasting.’

‘You wouldn’t shoot,’ he said. ‘You’ve got nothing to gain by—’

‘NO MORE BULLSHIT!’ I shouted. ‘Get on that bike and take off!’

‘You crazy bastard! Do you think you can buck all of us? Do you think-?’

I fired.

I caught him in the shoulder, and the slug spun him around, and then his own gun went off into the air, and he crumpled to the pavement alongside his bike, the headlight still peering wakefully into the darkness. I didn’t even look at him. I slid over behind the wheel. I didn’t put the top up. I threw the car into gear and started off again. My hands were shaking. My foot was trembling on the gas pedal. The rain whipped the windshield, poured steadily into the car. I almost missed Handy’s log cabin. My foot leaped to the brake pedal, and the wheels screeched and skidded, and I held the wheel tightly until the car side whipped to a stop. I backed up and climbed out, leaving the motor running. I was drenched. I went to the door of Handy’s cabin. This time, all the lights were out. I banged on the door with the butt of the .38.

‘Who is it?’ Handy called from inside.

‘Colby! Open this goddamn door!’

‘Just a minute, just a minute.’

I waited. I rapped again to hurry him up. I was ready to shoot the door off its hinges when suddenly it opened. Handy was in pajamas and robe. I didn’t bother with polite cordialities.

‘Where’s Ann Grafton?’ I said, and then I shoved the gun into his belly.

‘Are you out of your mind?’ Handy said. ‘Banging on the door at this hour of the morning! Waving a gun around as if...’

I pushed him into the room and slammed the door behind me.

‘Where’s Ann?’ I said.

‘I don’t know where the hell she—’

‘Two men have been shot with this gun, Handy. One is dead, and the other’s lying wounded in the middle of the highway. Do you want to be number three?’

‘Don’t threaten me, Colby,’ Handy said calmly. ‘Guns don’t scare me.’

What does, Handy? Look, I’m nervous. I’m overwrought. I’m tense. I’m soaking wet. This is liable to explode with no effort at all. Where s Ann?’

‘I don’t know,’ and he started to turn his back on me.

I spun him around. ‘You do know, you spineless bastard! You’ve known from the beginning. Where is she?’

Indignation flared in Handy’s eyes. ‘Don’t say that again, Colby.’

‘Say what, Handy? I said a lot of things.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘The spineless part? Is that what troubles you?’

‘I warned you not to...’

‘What the hell are you, if not spineless? When’s the last time you stood up straight? When’s the last time...?’

‘Don’t go bucking a machine, Colby! Only a fool bucks a machine.’

‘What machine? A sheriff and a couple of deputies? A hick state trooper on a motor bike? A couple who run a whorehouse? Is this your big machine?’

‘What difference does it make how big the machine is, if it runs the town?’

‘Are they what you’re afraid of? Somebody told me you used to have spunk. Said you used to be a fighter. What the hell happened to you? Did you get too interested in the big payoff?’

‘It’s not that. I don’t need the money. I—’

‘All right, Handy, listen to me. I know a girl named Lois was killed. I know she was buried by Barter and Hezekiah. I know Ann was taken on a train to Davistown this morning, and I’m pretty damn sure I know why/

‘They’ll let her go,’ Handy said. They said they’d let her go.’

‘Will they? A cop friend of mine went out to that motel early tonight. From what Hezekiah said, they tumbled to him. They’re probably holding him, too. Do you really think they’ll let him and Ann go? Damnit, Handy, they’re trying to cover a murder!’

‘I... I don’t know what to think.’

‘Where is she?’

‘I don’t know.’ He paused. ‘You saw Hezekiah tonight?’

‘For the last time. He’s dead. A man named Johnny Simms killed him. He killed him because he found out about Lois. He was going to marry that girl, Handy.’

‘How’d this get so complicated?’ Handy asked.

I didn’t answer.

‘How’d it get so complicated?’ he asked again. ‘It was simple. It was... well, what harm were we doing? Who were we hurting?’ He looked into my eyes. ‘Who was I hurting, Colby?’

‘Yourself,’ I answered.

Handy lowered his head and his eyes.

‘Where is she, Handy?’ I asked.

He heaved a great sigh. ‘At Joe Carlisle’s place,’ he said. ‘In Davistown.’

‘Where?’

He hesitated for a long time, and then he stood erect, with his shoulders back, and he said, ‘I’ll take you there. Let me dress.’

‘Throw on a coat,’ I said. There may not be time for you to -

‘All right,’ he answered.

‘Get a blanket, too,’ I said. ‘My front seat is a little damp.’

Handy went into the other room. When he returned, he had taken off the robe and put on an English-cut raincoat. He was carrying a plaid blanket over his arm. We went outside. The rain had let up a little. I put up the top, spread the blanket over the soaked leather seat, and then pulled away from the cabin.

‘A man’s got to do the right thing eventually,’ Handy said.

‘If he’s a man,’ I answered. ‘Which way?’

‘Straight through Sullivan’s Corners. I’ll show you from there.’

‘Is it a long drive?’

‘About a half-hour. Be careful in Sullivan’s Corners. We wouldn’t want to run into Planett.’

‘Planett is out of commission. So’s Fred. The machine is breaking down, Handy.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ he said. He paused. ‘I offered to take you to Davistown before I knew that, Colby.’

‘Yes.’

‘I was only reminding myself,’ he said.

We drove through Sullivan’s Corners.

‘Straight ahead,’ Handy said, ‘to the next stop light. Then make a right. That road leads into Davistown.’

The stop light was red when we got to it. We didn’t stop. I made the right turn, and then pushed down on the accelerator.

‘What happened at the motel?’ I asked.

‘It’s complicated.’

‘We’ve got a half-hour.’

‘All right. You know it’s a brothel?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s a good business. It was good even before Stephanie married Barter. I mean, it was steady. Nothing high-tone, you understand. Then Stephanie imported quality. Quality meant higher prices. A million-dollar business is nothing to laugh at.

‘No, it isn’t.’

‘A business like that needs protection. You know. You’re a cop.’

‘Yes.’

‘We’ve got a State’s Attorney who’s a crusader. If you want to keep something like this away from state law, you make sure the local law is in your pocket. Stephanie made sure of that. I don’t know which of us she reached first. Probably Fred, probably on a small scale. Planett must have been an easy mark, too. Me... I don’t suppose I gave her much trouble, either.’

‘Go on.’

‘You have to understand Stephanie. She’s a strange girl. She wants things. She wants luxury. Prostitution is all she knows, and she’s built it into a tremendous operation. She’d have succeeded in any business, do you know that? Anything she went into. She happened to choose prostitution. Or, actually, from what I gather about her background, it chose her. She needed capital, she got it. She married Barter who’s pretty well-off, owns a good deal of property at the Point. And, of course, he had the business already and she had ideas about what she could do to that business, how she could make it really pay. She succeeded, too. You have to hand it to her.’

‘I want to know what happened on the night of June 3rd,’ I said.

‘I’m getting to that. It doesn’t make sense, unless you know Stephanie. She’s a strange girl, I told you. I’ve never known her not to keep her word, not to stick to a bargain. She married Barter, and she was damn good-looking when she did, you can believe me. Life hadn’t been exactly gentle with her, but a beautiful girl doesn’t take the hard knocks as badly. She was a beauty. Still is, for that matter, but there was this freshness about her then. Mike Barter had got himself a prize. Of course, Stephanie had got what she wanted, too. That was their bargain. No love involved, you understand. But a bargain. Stephanie keeps a bargain. And she expects the other person to keep it too. She was Barter’s wife. She performed the way a wife should. She entertained, she went to bed with him, she was true to him. She was a wife. And maybe that’s love, too, I don’t know. Maybe that’s what love adds up to.’

‘And Barter?’

‘You’ve met him, haven’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘He’s not what I’d call a... watch it, there’s something in the road.’

I swerved the car around a branch that had been knocked loose by the storm. The rain had almost ended. The windshield wipers snicked at scattered drops.

‘He’s not what I’d call a Hollywood-type he-man.’ Handy said. ‘In fact, he’s pretty ugly. Do you agree?’

‘I suppose.’

‘You’d think a man like Barter... with a woman like Stephanie, well, you’d think he’d be pretty happy, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Last night... something happened.’

‘What?’

‘The girl Lois was in cabin eleven. That’s not too far from the office. Barter went out for a walk. Stephanie was alone up at the office. She was probably playing her records. She’s got a lot of records, likes to play them. I mean, really a lot. I guess she never had a record player when she was a kid, never could afford one. She was probably playing her records when she heard a scream. She called for Barter first, then realized he wasn’t in the office.’

‘What time was this?’

‘About eight or so, I guess. It was just getting dark, from the way I got it. I wasn’t there, you understand. Stephanie told me all this later. On the phone.’

‘Go on.’

‘She keeps a gun, Stephanie. A beautiful woman like her... out at the Point there... she keeps a gun. She’s a beautiful woman, you know.’

‘I know,’ I said. There was something odd in Handy’s voice whenever he spoke of Stephanie.

‘And noble,’ he said, ‘and — despite what you may think — pure. You can’t use a dirty word in her presence. You just can’t. She’s that way.’

‘Go on, Handy.’

‘She took the gun... a .32, I think it is, I’m not sure, and she went outside. There was screaming from cabin eleven. She knew the girl was in there alone. She thought maybe an animal or something had wandered in there, frightening her. She went to the cabin.’ Handy paused, and then he sighed.

‘Yes?’

‘An animal had wandered into the cabin. The animal was Mike Barter.’

‘Oh.’

‘Stephanie threw open the door and found him struggling with the girl. It’s funny with prostitutes, Colby. This wasn’t business with Barter. This was something else, and Lois didn’t want it, and she fought him like a tigress. And Stephanie stood in the doorway with the gun in her hand and then — the way it can happen — without will, without reason, without logic, she was firing. She fired four times.’ Handy sucked in his breath. ‘She killed the girl.’

‘Why?’

Handy nodded. ‘You’d think she’d have killed Barter. He was the one who’d cheated her. But maybe a woman turns instinctively against the other woman, maybe it’s bred into her. And maybe in the heat of emotion you seek the natural enemy, and the natural enemy here was the other woman. And then she saw the girl fall, and all at once everything was drained out of her. She’d killed someone. She dropped the gun, and she would have bolted from the cabin, but Barter stopped her. He picked up the gun and stuck it in his pocket. Then he dragged the girl into the cabin closet. She was bleeding pretty badly, and he had to get her out of the way while he thought of something.’

‘What did he think of?’

‘He got Hezekiah, and together they moved the body into the truck. They covered the girl with a burlap sack, and they drove the truck into the woods. They would have buried her right then and there, I guess, but they didn’t want to bury her anywhere on the property, and they had to figure out just where they could. They went back to the office. They were probably talking it over when you pulled up with your girl.’

‘I see.’

‘Barter never would’ve rented you a cabin, if you hadn’t had the girl with you. He’s a quick thinker. He probably went to look at your girl only because he’s got an eye for the women. But when he saw her, he knew just what he’d do. Lois was a tall brunette. Your girl was about the same height, same general build, pretty. Lois wasn’t too well known in town, just been here a few days, and in the cabin with customers most of the time. He knew sooner or later somebody’d come looking for Lois. Girl can’t just disappear without somebody coming to find out why. He didn’t want snoopers. Snoopers might call in state law. State law would mean the end of the setup.’

‘I can take it from there,’ I said.

‘Can you?’

‘While I was in the shower, he explained the plan to Stephanie and Hez. They grabbed Ann out of the cabin, took the truck out of the woods, and then drove her some place for the night.’

‘Hez’s place,’ Handy said.

‘In the morning, Stephanie put on something that would attract attention. Blanche always attracts attention. The three of them went to town together. Blanche is a known prostitute, Stephanie a known madam. People would automatically assume the brunette was one of the girls. People would assume the brunette was Lois So if anyone asked questions later on, the answer would be that Lois had left town. Hell, everyone saw her go.’

‘Yes. But they planned on turning Ann free, I’m sure they did.’

‘Maybe that was part of the plan originally, but once they’d found out I was a cop, once they’d thought it over, how could they turn her free? Damnit, Handy, she may be dead already!’

‘I... I don’t think so.’ He peered through the windshield. ‘We’re entering Davistown now. It’s just a little way further.’

The rain had stopped. I turned off the windshield wipers. The roads were still slickly wet, and they told their secrets to the tires of the car.

‘How long have you loved her, Handy?’ I asked.

‘What?’

‘Stephanie.’

Without hesitation, Handy said, ‘From the first day Mike Barter brought her to Sullivan’s Point.’

‘Why are you leading me to her?’

This time, Handy hesitated. I thought he wasn’t going to answer at all. Then he said, ‘I used to be a good lawyer. I used to be a good justice of the peace, too. I used to believe in the law.’ He paused. ‘Stephanie killed someone.’ He paused again. ‘I imagine that person was loved, too.’

Davistown was an ugly city, ugly with smokestacks and gaudy neon and pool parlors and second-rate bars. We drove into it, and Handy directed me to a three-story apartment building on the fringe of the downtown area.

A light was burning in a third-floor apartment. The rest of the building was in bed.

‘What’s the apartment number?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know. His name is Joe Carlisle.’

‘You wait here, Handy.’

‘Be careful,’ he said, and he sounded as if he meant it.

I got out of the convertible. The street was very quiet. In the lobby of the building, I checked the mailboxes. There was a Joseph Carlisle in apartment 33. I brought my foot up and kicked the snap lock on the inner door. The door sprang open, and I found the stairs and took them up to the third floor. Apartment 33 was at the end of the hall. I pulled out the .38, and knocked.

‘Who is it?’ Stephanie asked.

‘Hezekiah,’ I whispered.

‘Hold on.’

I heard her approaching the door. The door opened a crack then, and I saw surprise and shock come into her eyes. She tried to slam the door shut, and she yelled something to somebody in the apartment, but I’d already flung my shoulder at the door. I shoved it open, and Stephanie reeled backwards, lost her footing, and fell to the floor. Barter and Carlisle came rushing from the other room. They stopped dead when they saw me, and then the trapped look came into their eyes, and their feet stood undecided, and their hands fluttered somewhat aimlessly, and then their shoulders slumped because they were facing a .38 and a murder rap, and there was no place to go.

‘Who told you where we were?’ Stephanie said from the floor. Her eyes were puzzled. She was watching her dream collapse around her, watching the thick carpets and the hi-fi unit and the liquor cabinet crumble into the dust.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘Get up.’

And then the girl who didn’t like to hear profanity looked up at me, and her eyes filled with tears, and she said, ‘You bastard, you dirty rotten bastard.’

And that was all.

It was quiet in the squadroom of the 23rd Precinct. There was July sunlight filtering through the meshed windows that opened on the street. Tony Mitchell and Sam Thompson sat at one of the desks. There were two coffee cups before them. Mitchell drank steadily. Thompson did not drink as often because he was talking. He did not like to occupy his mouth with too many tasks at the same time.

‘You can always tell a hero cop from a plain ordinary one,’ he said.

‘Can you?’ Mitchell asked, smiling.

‘Certainly. You’re a cop with heroic dimensions. I can tell.’

‘How can you tell?’

‘It’s very simple. In all the years I’ve been on the force, I have never met a single cop who got bit by a snake. You are unique.’

‘I never met one, either.’

‘Which only proves my point. You’re a white hunter! Tony, you are a hero!’

‘Phil’s the hero. He’s the one who cracked it.’

‘Tony, the one who cracks it is not the hero. The one who gets cracked is the hero. Look at yourself! God, how can you stand looking so pathetically wounded? A Band Aid on your leg, your head in a bandage. Your wife must be dissolving in sympathy.’

‘She gives me breakfast in bed every morning. Bite size.’

‘Predigested, she should give you.’

‘It won’t last long,’ Mitchell said sorrowfully. ‘The bandage comes off my head tomorrow.’

‘The white hunter!’ Thompson said, carried away with himself. ‘Look at him! Fearless! Indomitable! Honest! Jesus, I can hardly stand it.’

Phil Colby pushed his way through the railing which divided the squadroom from the corridor outside. He walked directly to a chair near the desk, plopped into it, stretched his legs and said, ‘Any more coffee?’

‘What are you doing back here?’ Thompson asked. ‘Is the trial over?’

‘It’s over,’ Colby said. ‘Isn’t there any more coffee?’

‘O’Hare has a pot brewing next door. You want some?’

‘I’d like some.’

‘O’Hare!’ Thompson yelled. ‘A cup of coffee for the returning hero.’

‘What happened?’ Mitchell asked.

‘The D.A. got a conviction.’

‘Good.’

‘Yeah.’ Colby sighed. ‘That courtroom was hot, you know?’

‘That’s why I let you solve the thing,’ Mitchell said.

‘Why?’

‘I don’t like testifying before district attorneys. Especially in the summertime.’

‘You’re noble,’ Colby said. He turned to look toward the corridor. ‘Hey, O’Hare,’ he yelled: ‘You coming with that coffee?’

O’Hare came into the squadroom, his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He was carrying a pot of coffee in one hand and two cups in the other.

‘I wanted to finish a report I was on,’ he said, grinning. ‘This way I can join you.’ He put the cups down on the desk. He poured coffee into both of them. ‘Pass that container of milk, Tony,’ he said.

Mitchell passed the milk. Thompson passed the sugar. O’Hare administered both to his coffee. Then he sipped it, made a satisfied ‘Ahhh’ with his mouth, smiled and said, ‘So what’s new with the star witness?’

And Phil Colby picked up his coffee cup and said, ‘So what could be new?’