Kolchak The Night Strangler (13 page)

“Note that the original photo was taken during the Civil War. The photo of Dr. Malcolm
Richards
was taken in 1916, four years after he founded the clinic. It shows a man in his mid-40’s.

“It is the
same
man. Anyone care to tell me how a man more than 90 years old can retain the vigor of his middle years? Never mind. I
have
the answer.”

I was really rolling now. I told them everything I could remember of what I’d so hastily read about alchemists, puffers, the story of St. Germain, and his odd “diet.”

“Item: Dr. Richard Malcolm, according to some reports, was once suspected of having tried to rob a Union Army gold shipment in Washington. The charges were never proved, but he retired rather than continue what had promised to be a brilliant career.

“Item: Dr. Richard Malcolm was known to be an ardent collector of
gold
.

“Item: During the late 1890’s, Seattle was a prime source of gold. Tons of it passed through from the Nome and Klondike rushes. A man named Malcolm—see my stories in the
Chronicle
—was known to be a dealer in gold during that period.

“Item: Dr. Malcolm Richards was reported to have subsisted on a rather unusual ‘health diet’ consisting of oatmeal, groats, white chicken meat, and wine. This is the reputed diet of the noted alchemist, Count St. Germain.

“Facts, gentlemen? You wanted facts? I have
given
you facts.”

No one said a thing.

“Well?”

Mr. Berry echoed me. “Yes… uh… well?”

Schubert signed. “Fascinating. What am I supposed to do now? Congratulate you?”

“No! Just
find
him,
Captain
. He’s down there in the Underground. You didn’t look hard enough! Put policewomen in the area.
Lure
him out.

“And
you
, Mr. Lucius Crossbinder, oh great Sage of Seattle… print this story in your goddamned
news
paper. It is
news!
Not hearsay.
News!
”

Crossbinder looked at Schubert, who just shrugged. Then the old man turned to me. “Perhaps, Mr. Kolchak, it would be a good idea if you stepped outside for a moment.”

I was escorted from Schubert’s office and sat down in Sheila’s office, still handcuffed, while Sheila kept shooting disapproving glances at me.

“Take it easy, kid. I really don’t have rabies.”

“Don’t talk to
me
, Mister. You’ve come to the wrong town to play Crusader Rabbit. Police work is for professionals and know-it-all reporters should kindly butt out.”

“Hell, girl, I was covering police beats when you were still in diapers. Why, for…”

Schubert’s door opened, and Crossbinder came out followed by Vincenzo and Schubert. Vincenzo had that terrible look of defeat I’d seen in Las Vegas two years before. Crossbinder moved over to me.

“Knowing you has been quite an experience, Mr. Kolchak. When you are permitted to leave here, I hope you’ll stop off at the nearest gas station… and have your head drained! It is filled to the crown with
muck
, sir. Good day!”

Thus spake Lucius Crossbinder, the Pontiff of Puget Sound.

Schubert motioned to one of his officers who came over and unlocked my cuffs. As I rubbed the circulation back into my wrists, Vincenzo, head down, sidled over to me. The dark glasses were back on again.

“All right, Carl. I don’t know how I did it, but I got you off the hook.”

“Fantastic! You finally found your nerve, huh! Great! Now we can show those bastards what big-city reporting is all about. I’ll give you a story that’ll get us…”

Vincenzo put his hands on my shoulders. “There
is
no story.”

“What?!”

“That’s it, Carl. No story. Period.”

“You’re putting me on. Right? You’re…”

“And they’re going to continue to handle this thing in their own way.”

I slumped back down in my chair.

“I’m disappointed in you, Vince,” I said very quietly. “I really thought you were going to be a pro… just for once. Hell!”

I saw Schubert over to one side. He looked over at me and grinned. It was too much. I leaped out of my seat and I’d have landed one on his big, fat chin, but Vincenzo grabbed me and spun me around, slamming me against the partition to Schubert’s office and rattling the glass.

“Kolchak, get a hold of yourself. You slug a cop and they’ll put you away for 30 years!”

“What the hell did I just
go
through in there? Didn’t you hear what I said? Didn’t
they
hear me? Don’t they know what’s going to happen? If they don’t lure him out, Malcolm’s simply going to get his sixth kill somewhere else and then disappear for another twenty-one years. Jesus Christ!”

“Kolchak, they do not intend to panic this entire city just to please
you!
”

I placed one hand on his chest and pushed him away gently.

“Your new assignment is…”
“My
what?”

“Your new assignment, courtesy of Mr. Crossbinder: You leave tomorrow to cover the Daffodil Festival in Puyallup.

“Ver-ry funny, Tony. You’re a barrel of laughs. That flower thing wrapped up on April the eighth.”

“You’re getting a head start on
next
year’s festival. Now beat it before Schubert changes his mind.”

Chapter Fourteen

I headed straight for the nearest bar. Slowly—and very deliberately—I put down three shots of Cutty, neat, and tried to decide whether or not discretion, at this late date, was really the better part of valor. I came to the lamentable conclusion it was not. Finally, sometime around 9 p.m., I called Louise and told her I had to come over for a little talk.

I arrived around 9:30.

“How
nice
of you to drop by. I thought the earth had swallowed you up. Or that you’d gone slumming in the Underground again.”

I apologized profusely, grateful to find she’d taken my little suggestion about not going to work. And that she was alive. Then I filled her in on everything that had happened and all that I had learned. She listened very quietly and began ladling coffee down my throat.

“Well?” I asked. “What do you think?”

“I’d like to ask you a question, Carl. And I’d like you to think very carefully before you answer it. A great deal depends on what you say and how you say it.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“If I were to suggest that you consider your position here, and to consider it not only in light of what you’ve told me but also in light of what happened to you in Las Vegas ..”

“Yes…”

“If I asked you to drop the whole thing, get whatever pay the
Chronicle
owes you, and leave town… And I told you that I would come along… would you do it?”

“You mean, just walk away from the whole thing, hit the road and you would go with me? That’s the choice?”

“I want to hear your answer.”

“Jesus!” Some choice! For some reason, Vincenzo had not actually fired me but only sent me to the sticks to cool my heels until he was ready to forgive and forget. But I wasn’t exactly sitting on a pot of gold here in Seattle. And I was falling in love. No question about it, Louise’s observations about middle-aged desperation aside. I could have her or I could push my luck one more time and end up with… what? My usual pocketful of ashes?

“Louise…”

“Uh huh.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve had in ten years. Maybe twenty. I think you know what you mean to me. I wasn’t sure until now, but I am. That’s why it hurts so much to tell you that I’m going to go ahead and keep plugging away.”

Her expression did not alter one bit.

“I’ve
got
to. It’s
not
just a question of whether I’m right or wrong. Or crazy, either. Sure, I think the cops are sticking their heads in the sand. Sure, I ought to leave them to clean up their own mess. It’s none of my business.

“But if I do, sure as hell I know one thing… another girl is going to die.
Die!
And I can’t walk away from it. I just can’t carry that around with me for the rest of my life. Nobody listened in Vegas, and there are several girls who are nothing but memories because of it.”

“I know. You mumble in your sleep.”

“So, I guess I’ll just be on my way. I’m sorry, Louise. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to tell you… well, it’s been… uh…”

“Carl… you… you are an awful pain in the ass. You are one of the most supremely egotistical men I have ever met.
I
haven’t shown you the way to the door yet.
I
haven’t called it off. You are making assumptions again. Drawing conclusions. And discounting entirely the possibility that a woman might wish to make a choice of her own.”

“Yeah. Well… I’m sorry. It’s the way I am. I can’t help it.”

“Your answer didn’t come as much of a surprise, baby. I just wanted to confirm my suspicions… and fears. You really
are
willing to blow everything you’ve got to back up your own ideas.

“You once asked me what it was I found attractive in you,” she said, as she got up and walked to a closet.

“Despite all your faults, you are unique. I have
never
met anyone like you.” She came back with a white trench coat which she was struggling into.

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t interrupt. You
always
interrupt. Stand up.”

I did, and she came right up to me, eye to eye, dead level with me in low heels. She put her hands on my shoulders.

“God
damn
you for it, Carl Kolchak, but you are a man of integrity. A pain in the ass, yes! An egocentric loudmouth, yes! But a man of integrity! That is why I love you. Or whatever love is. It’s as close to it as anything I’ve ever felt.”

I looked long and hard into her face. I saw lines around the eyes that I hadn’t noticed before.

“All of a sudden, I’m getting really scared. I’m not so sure I’m right, and I’m not so sure I know just
what
to do next.”

“Carl, you had your mind made up before you ever came here. Being what you are, if you’d really intended to give it up, you’d have quit the news game after Vegas and never, ever gone back into it. You can’t do things by halves. That’s why you bitch about Vincenzo. Because he compromises. And you can't. You really don’t belong in the sad seventies, Carl. And that’s why you get hurt.”

I stared at my feet. This was getting very close to the bone, and it hurt worse than she realized. Or maybe, in light of what followed, she realized more than I gave her credit for.

“Just remember one thing, Carl. You are not alone. Call Vincenzo whatever you want to, but he could have fired you. He may not be long on guts, but he still gave you your chance. You’re still on the
Chronicle
payroll, and you still have an excuse for staying involved.

“And you’ve still got me. Shall we go?”

“Go? Where? I can’t ask you to… I can’t let you ...”
“No contracts, remember. No promises of obedience.
This
lady makes up her own mind.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt. This
isn’t
your fight.”

“Oh,
no
. Of course not. And I suppose the killer has been knocking off men. Look, you dodo, in case you’ve forgotten, his
last
victim might very well have been me. Scared? You bet your life I’m scared. But I’m also offended. I don’t like men who prey on women. In
any
way.”

“You’re quite a girl. Remind me to tell you sometime.”

We started out the door, bound for… where? I hadn’t made up my mind just what course to take. But a half-baked plan was forming in my whiskey-softened noggin. As I tried to flag down a cab, Louise was rattling on about something.

“Hold it a second, sweetheart. Where’s the best area for pawnshops?” The question was addressed to a cabbie who’d slowed and stopped almost as if it had been in the script. We bundled ourselves inside.