79 Park Avenue (33 page)

"Ross!" she screamed suddenly, her voice bursting in her ears. "Ross!"

The sound of a few faint coughs came from the living-room and was lost in a tinkling of glass. The telephone

fell from her nerveless fingers and she ran back to the living-room.

Ross was still sitting on the couch. He leaned back against the armrest, his face white and eyes filled with hurt and surprise, his hands clasped tight across his chest. "Marja!" he whispered hoarsely.

She could see blood seeping between his fingers. She glanced at the big picture window opposite the couch. Half of it had shattered and fallen into the room.

She ran to Ross. "Tom!" she screamed. "Call a doctor!

Ross began to fall toward her. She caught him and held his head against her breast.

"Baby, baby, baby," she cried.

She could feel him shudder with pain. Slowly he turned his face toward her. "I was wrong, Marja," he whispered

"No, baby," she said.

He spoke slowly, as if each word had to travel a great distance before it could leave his Ups. "I was wrong, Marja, but I tried so hard."

"I know, Ross." Tears were running down her cheeks She kissed his black hair. It was shiny and soaking with perspiration.

He looked up at her. "Marja.''

"Yes, Ross?" ^

"I'm glad the phone rang, Marja. I love you very much." His voice was a hollow echo of pain. i

"I love you too, Ross," she said, weeping.

A f^nt note of surprise was in his voice* **You do, Marja?" j

She nodded violently. "Why did you think I stayed?" ^

He closed his eyes wearily. "You did stay." He was silent for a moment. When he opened his eyes again, there was a curious contentment in them. "I'lp glad you stayed.

Marja," he whispered. "I would have been afraid if you hadn't."

"I'll always stay, baby," she cried, turning his head to her breasts.

He coughed and a tiny thread of blood sprayed from his lips across her blouse. His head fell forward. She looked down at him. His eyes were blank and unseeing.

She looked down at her white blouse. The small stain of blood was growing wider and wider. The television blasted at her ears with the roar of audience laughter. Gently she lowered his head to the couch.

She got to her feet.

Tom was standing in the doorway, his dark face an ashen gray. "I called the doctor, Miz Maryann."

"Thank you, Tom," she said wearily and crossed the room to turn off the television set.

Chapter 12 \

MIKE came into the office and took off his hat. He j scaled it onto a chair opposite his desk, his forehead^ glistening with sweat. He went to his desk and sat down J heavily. ■

Joel looked up from the other desk. "Warm," he said.

Mike smiled. "Very warm for May. From the looks of it, if s goin' to be a bitch of a summer."

Joel leaned back in his chair wearily. "Fm beat. I had a hell of a week-end. I can't take this heat any more. You'd think the Old Man would okay air-conditioners for the offices."

Mike grinned. "He has an idea that good lawyers are distilled from their own sweat."

"I don't think he's ever sweat in his life, he hasn't enough blood," Joel complained. He picked up a paper from his desk and held it toward Mike. "This has been waitin' for you."

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Mike took it from him and glanced at it. **Damn!" he swore.

Joel grinned. "What's the matter, baby?"

Mike looked at him and got to his feet slowly. He picked up his hat from the chair. "Don't crap me. You read it."

*'What're you complaining about?" Joel laughed. "You're goin' for a nice automobile ride uptown an' spend a couple of hours in a nice, cool, clean-smelling hospital. You're lucky not to have to stay in this stuffy old oflBce."

Mike was already at the door. "Balls," he said and went out, followed into the corridor by Joel's raucous laughter. He pressed the elevator button and looked again at the paper in his hand.

Suspected abortion.

The elevator doors opened and he stepped into the car. He continued to read as the car descended.

Florence Reese. Admitted Roosevelt Hospital, 7:10 a.m., May 10, '54. Internal hemorrhages due to abortion. Con-dition critical.

The doors opened and he walked out. He crossed the corridor and opened a door. As he entered, a few men looked up from their newspapers and then looked down again. He went through the room to another door whose frosted glass bore the name Captain F. Millersen. He opened the door and went in.

The dark-haired man at the desk looked up. "Hello, Mike," he said in a deep voice.

Mike smiled. "Hi, Frank. I need a man to go up to Roosevelt Hospital with me. Suspected abortion." He tossed the slip of paper onto the detective's desk.

Captain Millersen looked at it briefly. "One of those, eh?"

Mike nodded.

The detective got to his feet. "1 think I'll go with yuh on this one, Mike.'*

Mike's eyes widened. Millersen never went out on a case unless it was a big one. Upstairs they said tliat he had an uncanny instinct for the big ones, that he smeDed them coming. "You're comin' with me, Frank?" he asked in tones of disbeUef.

The detective nodded. "Yeah, I'm gettin* a little tired of sittin' behind this desk keepin' my fanny warm."

Mike watched him pick up his hat. "You know some-thin' about this that I don't?" he asked skeptically.

Millersen put a cigar in his mouth. "I don't know nothin'. Only that I'm tired of sittin'. Let's go."

The smell of disinfectant was all aroxmd them as they strode down the green-walled corridor. They followed the nurse into a ward. At its far end, curtains had been drawn around one of the beds.

"She's in here," the nurse said, holding aside the curtains.

"Is she in condition to talk?" Mike asked the nurse.

"She's very weak," the nurse answered. "Be careful."

He stepped through the curtains, followed by Millersen, and stood beside the bed. For a moment they looked silently down at the young girl lying there.

She seemed to be sleeping. Her eyes were closed and her face was white, a pallid bluish-white color, as if there were no blood beneath the skin. Her mouth was open and her lips were only slightly darker than her cheeks.

Mike looked at the detective. Millersen nodded. He spoke softly to the girl: "Miss Reese."

The girl didn't move. He spoke her name again. This time she stirred sUghtly. Slowly she opened her eyes. They

i.

were so filled with agony that Mike couldn't tell their color. Her Ups moved, but no sound came out.

Mike moved closer to the bed. "Can you hear me, Miss Reese?"

The girl nodded faintly.

"I'm Mike Keyes and this is Captain Millersen. We're from the District Attorney's ofl&ce."

The beginnings of fear began to fleck the girl's eyes, Mike spoke quickly to reassure her. "You're perfectly all right, Miss Reese. You're in no trouble. We just have some routine questions to ask so that we may be able to help you."

Slowly the fear began to vanish. Mike waited for a moment. His words echoed mockingly in his ear. No trouble. Of course she was in trouble. She was only dying.

He smiled slowly and reassuringly. "Have you any relatives we can notify for you?"

The girl shook her head.

"In the city, or out?"

"No!" The girl's voice was a whisper.

"Where do you Uve, Miss Reese?"

"Hotel Allingham," she answered.

Mike nodded. It was one of the less expensive women's hotels on the west side. "You have a job, Miss Reese?"

The girl shook her head.

"What do you do?"

The girl's voice was faint. "Model."

He exchanged a knowing look with the detective. Half the unemployed girls in New York were models, the other half were actresses. "Free lance or agency?" he asked.

"Agency," the girl replied.

"Which agency?"

"Park Avenue Models," the girl answered. For the first

time since Mike had spoken to her, her expression changed. ''Let—let Maryann know—"

It seemed to Mike that the girl had an expression of hope on her face. "We will," he said. "Maryann who— where?"

The girl seemed to be gathering her strength for an effort to speak. "Maryann at—at the agency. She knows what to do. She is—" Her voice trailed away and her head slipped to one side.

The nurse stepped quickly to the head of the bed. She felt for the girl's pulse. "She's sleeping," she announced. "You'll have to finish your questions later."

Mike turned to Millersen. The detective's face was white, almost as white as the girl's had been. Mike instantly changed his opinion about the man. He had heard that Millersen was as hard as nails.

Millersen nodded and stepped outside the curtain. Mike followed him. "What d'you think, Frank?"

"We're not going to find anything," Millersen said.

Mike was surprised. "What makes you say that?"

Millersen smiled mirthlessly. "I seen too many of these. They lead to nowheres."

"But the girl is dying!" Mike said. "We got to do something to find out who did it. The butcher is liable to go to work on another—'*

The detective reached out a quieting hand. *Take it easy, Mike. We'll look. But we won't find. Unless the girl tells us."

"I'm gettin' on the phone to that agency. Maybe they'll have some dope for us." Mike started down the aisle between the beds.

Millersen's hand caught his arm. "I'll get on the phone.

i

Mike," he said quickly. "You wait here an' talk to her when she comes to. She's used to you already."

Mike nodded "Good idea " He watched Millersen walk out of the ward, then turned back to the curtains

The nurse wa> jusi coming out> She raised an eyebrow when she saw him

"I'll wait until she can talk to me again," Mike explained.

The nurse looked up at him. "You can wait at my desk out in the corridor," she said. "It'll be a litde while before she can speak again—^if ever.'*

Chapter 13

TOM opened the door gently, balancing the tray with his free hand. "Yoii up, Miz Maryann?" he eisked softly.

There was no answer from the large double bed.

He stepped quietly into the room and put the tray down on a small table. Without looking at the bed, he went to the window and drew back the drapes. Bright sunlight spilled into the room. He stood there for a moment looking out the window.

Far below he could see the East River as it wound its way toward the Hudson. The flashing green of Grade Square Park contrasted with the gray of the buildings surrounding it. He watched a long black automobile turn up the driveway to Grade Mansion. He looked down at his watch. Eight o'clock. The mayor of this town went to work early. He turned back into the room.

She was already awake, her large brown eyes watching him lazily from the pillow. Slowly she stretched, her arms and shoulders brown and strong.

**Good momin', Miz Maryann," he said, walking back toward the bed.

She smiled. "Good morning, Tom. What time is it?"

"Eight o'clock," he answered, placing the tray across the bed in front of her. "Time to get up."

She grimaced and sat up. He picked up a silk bed jacket from a chair near the bed and held it while she slipped it over her shoulders. "What's for breakfast, Tom?"

"This diet day, Miz Maryann. Juice an' coffee," he answered.

"But I'm hungry," she protested.

"You very pretty today, Miz Maryann," he said. "You want to stay that way?"

She grinned. "Tom, you're an old butter-spreader."

He grinned back at her. "Go on and eat. Mr. Martin say he goin' come by at ten to take you down to the office."

She picked up the glass of orange juice and sipped it slowly. "Before long you're goin' to be running my whole life, Tom."

"Not me," he said, shaking his gray-flecked kinky black hair. "But I would sho' like to see the man who could."

She laughed and finished her juice. "Any mail?"

"I'll go down and see, Miz Maryann." He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Idly she picked up the paper on the tray and glanced at it. The usual news: rape, arson, murder, and war. She turned to the comic strips as she sipped her coffee. She looked up as Tom came back into the room, carrying a letter.

She took it from him and ripped it open quickly. "It's from Michelle," she said happily.

"Yes'm," he said, even though he had already known. He loved to see her happy. To him, she seemed the saddest and most beautiful woman in the world.

"She passed her midterm exams with the second-highest marks in the class," she said excitedly. "And she can't wait until June and we get out there for her vacation."

A strange look crossed Tom's face. "Kin we go for sure?" he asked.

"I'd Uke to see anyone try to stop us."

"But Mr. Martin say you might be very busy this summer," he said.

"Mr. Martin can go to hell," she said strongly. "He kept me from going last summer, but he won't this time."

He was waiting in the living-room as she came down the steps of the duplex apartment. He smiled at her. "Good morning, Maryann."

"Morning, Joker. Hope I didn't keep you waiting."

His smile turned into a grin. "I've been waiting a long time now, Maryann. A few minutes won't bother me."

Her eyes met his gaze levelly, "We made a deal.'*

He nodded.

"A deal's a deal," she said.

"Sometimes I think you're cold as ice."

"Not cold, Joker," she said. "Just bored with it. Enough not to bother any more."

"Even for me?" he asked.

"Even for you," she said. "Remember what we agreed?'*

He nodded again. He remembered. Too well.

He had come to the house and Tom had shown him into the living-room. The big picture window had new glstss, and through it he could see the edge of the pool. Only this time no child was splashing in its water. He turned when he heard her footsteps.

She stood in the entrance, wearing a simple black dress. Her blond hair shimmered in the fading daylight as she walked toward him. Her face was impassive. "Hello, Joker," she said. She did not extend her hand.