1945 - Blonde's Requiem (24 page)

“
I
’
ll be interested to hear how you got on to this,
”
Beyfield said as he followed me over the windowsill.

I grunted, but didn
’
t say anything.

Harris crawled into the room behind us and turned on a powerful flashlight.

“
Ain
’
t this the house where we found that Kunz dame
’
s shoe?
”
he wheezed to Beyfield.

Beyfield said it was.
“
If a body
’
s here,
”
he said,
“
maybe this lug planted it.
”

We went up the stairs, reached the landing, and I threw open the door of the room where I had found Marian.

“
Take a look at that,
”
I said grimly.

The beam of the flashlight bounced on the opposite wall and then crawled down towards the floor.

“
I
’
m looking,
”
Beyfield said, his voice suddenly hard.

But for the dust, the hanging strips of wallpaper, the pile of soot in the fireplace, the room was empty.

* * *

“
Sit down,
”
Macey said, pointing to a chair opposite him. He was behind a big desk in his office on the third floor of police headquarters. I sat down.

Beyfield leaned against the door, took out a package of gum, peeled the paper from it and slid the strip into his mouth. He then hooked his thumbs in his belt and eyed me with blank, stony eyes.

Macey lit a cigar. He took his time about it and didn
’
t say anything until he was satisfied that it was burning properly, then he put his elbows-on the desk and glared at me.

“
I don
’
t like private dicks,
”
he began, the jowls of his fat face red,
“
but when a private dick starts being funny, I know what to do with him. Don
’
t I, Beyfield?
”

Beyfield grunted.

I took out a cigarette and set fire to it.
“
I can imagine how scared some dicks would be,
”
I said mildly,
“
but you don
’
t scare me, Macey. I
’
ve got too much on you to worry much about your threats.
”

Macey showed his yellow teeth in a mirthless smile.
“
You think you
’
ve got something on me,
”
he said, pointing at me with the wet end of his cigar,
“
but you haven
’
t. We
’
ve got you, and unless you talk fast we
’
ll keep you.
”
He sat hack and regarded me for a long moment, then added:
“
No one knows you
’
re here.
”

I thought maybe he had something. If these guys decided to knock me off— and if they wanted to there was nothing that would stop them—no one would know what had happened to me. I decided I
’
d have to play my hand carefully.

“
So you found a body in 37, did you,
”
Macey said,
“
but it wasn
’
t there when my boys called? What
’
s the idea?
”

“
No idea,
”
I said.
“
The body was there, but while I was calling you someone took it away.
”

Macey and Beyfield exchanged glances.
“
All right, someone took it away,
”
Macey said.
“
How did you find the body in the first place?
”

I told him about the date with Marian French, how, after she hadn
’
t shown up, I went to her room and found the address of the house.

“
She was on the floor with a cord around her neck,
”
I said.
“
I
’
d say she had been dead about four hours. The woman who rents her room said Marian received a phone call at five o
’
clock and went out right away. She went to meet her murderer.
”

“
You don
’
t think we believe this yarn, do you?
”
Macey asked, tapping ash into his wastebasket.

“
I don
’
t give a damn if you believe it or not,
”
I returned.
“
I don
’
t expect you
’
ll turn the killer up—I
’
m going to do that—but I wanted to show you what
’
s happened to the other four girls who are missing.
”

There was a long heavy silence, then Macey said:
“
What
’
s the connection between these four girls and French?
”

“
Suppose we put the cards on the table face up,
”
I said, shifting a little closer to the desk.
“
All you
’
re worrying about is the election. You want Starkey in office so you can feather your own nest.
”

Beyfield pushed himself away from the wall, took a quick step towards me and swung at my head. By falling on my hands and knees as the swing started I made him miss. While he was off balance I skidded away from him, stood up and grabbed a chair. I held it so I could crown him if he came in. We looked murder at each other.

Macey exploded with a
“
Cut it out!
”
and stood up to thump his desk.
“
Sit down and shut up!
”
he bawled at Beyfield, who was breathing heavily, his face white with rage.

I put the chair down.
“
If you want a fight,
”
I said to Beyfield,
“
you can have it, but it
’
ll mean a long vacation in hospital for you.
”

Macey bawled:
“
Didn
’
t you hear me? I said cut it out!
”

Beyfield went back to the door and stood chewing and glaring at me. I shrugged, and went back to my chair.
“
Let
’
s be reasonable,
”
I urged.
“
I said cards on the table, but if you
’
re scared, then we
’
ll forget it.
”

Macey settled down in his chair again. He rescued his cigar that had fallen on the floor, scowled at it and then at me.
“
Go on,
”
he said.
“
Shoot your mouth off if you want to.
”

“
You
’
re not trying to find the missing girls because you
’
re scared it
’
ll lead to Starkey. You think Starkey has knocked them off, and if you dig you
’
ll have to pinch him. As you want him as boss of Cranville you
’
re too scared to do anything about the case.
”

His small eyes shifted away from me, but he didn
’
t say anything.

“
Starkey didn
’
t kill Marian French nor did he have anything to do with the missing girls,
”
I went on.
“
It points to him, but someone
’
s framing him for it.
”

There was an expression of cautious interest on Macey
’
s face now.
“
Go on,
”
he said.
“
What makes you think that?
”

“
Maybe you haven
’
t any more brains than a leg of mutton,
”
I said,
“
but you know about the Street-Camera business. You know that every girl who
’
s disappeared has had her photograph in the window of that Studio and you know Starkey owns the joint. You think the photos were a bait to get the girls to come to the shop, but it wasn
’
t. There
’
s someone in this town who is
’
out to frame Starkey. Whoever he is works like this. For some reason I haven
’
t got around to yet, he decided to kidnap and murder a number of girls in this town. Maybe he reckoned that it would be one way to get rid of Starkey, maybe there
’
s some other angle to it. I don
’
t know, but I
’
m going to find out. Anyway, this guy starts indiscriminate kidnapping. First he goes along to the Street-Camera Studio and finds out who
’
s photograph is on show in the window. The photograph is changed every four days, and he may have to go there a number of times before he recognizes a girl he knows. When that happens, he contacts the girl, kidnaps her, murders her and hides her body. He does that three times, then he sends pictures of the girls to Dixon, tipping Dixon off that Starkey is using the shop as a bait to kidnap the girls. He hopes Dixon will come out with the story in the Gazette and upset Starkey
’
s applecart. That
’
s what I mean when I say someone is framing Starkey.
”

Macey brooded. He was interested all right. He had even let his cigar go out.

“
How did this guy get the photographs to give Dixon?
”
he asked, rather to say something than to pick holes in what I
’
d told him.

“
That
’
s easy. Each girl he kidnapped had the Street-Camera ticket with her. That ticket entitled the holder to go to the Studio and buy the photographs. All he had to do was to hand over the ticket and collect the photographs. The joint must do a big trade, and whoever handed the photos over would not be likely to remember who had bought them.
”

Macey brooded some more, and then as he was going to say something the telephone rang. He scooped up the receiver and growled into it.

I watched him as he listened and saw his eyes light up. He glanced at me and looked away. Then he said,
“
Okay, that
’
s fine,
”
and hung up.
“
Maybe you
’
ve got something,
”
he said, but I could see he wasn
’
t concentrating. He was thinking of something else.
“
Suppose that did happen, who
’
s the fellow behind it?
”

I shrugged.
“
That
’
s what I
’
m going to find out,
”
I returned,
“
but as long as I know it isn
’
t Starkey and as long as you know it isn
’
t, then we can pry the lid off without worrying what
’
ll come out of the tin.
”

He pulled a slip of paper towards him and scribbled on
“
Yeah,
”
he said,
“
but suppose it
’
s Wolf? You
’
re acting for him and it wouldn
’
t suit you to turn up Wolf, would it?
”

“
It isn
’
t Wolf,
”
I said,
“
and if it is, I wouldn
’
t care.
”

“
Give this to Joe,
”
he said, offering the paper to Beyfield.
“
Tell him to get a move on.
”

Something at the back of my mind told me that what was happening right under my nose wasn
’
t going to do me any good. But unless I snatched the paper from Macey I couldn
’
t know what it was all about. I watched Beyfield take the paper and leave the room.

“
One of my men
’
s found a guy we
’
ve been looking for,
”
Macey explained, without looking at me.
“
Excuse me interrupting you, but I want to get after him.
”

“
Sure,
”
I said. I knew he was lying, but I couldn
’
t imagine what his game was.

“
So you wouldn
’
t care if Wolf was at the bottom of this?
”

I shook my head.
“
I liked Marian French,
”
I said.
“
She was a stranger to the town and I was looking after her. Whoever killed her is going to burn. I don
’
t give a damn who it is.
”

“
Suppose you
’
re right and it is murder,
”
Macey said, folding his arms and resting them on his desk.
“
Where are the bodies?
”

“
Where have you looked?
”
I said, lighting another cigarette.