Miss Callaghan Comes To Grief (12 page)

Maltz consulted his list and then told him.

Raven nodded. “Take her to the St. Louis. I want to talk to her. Lock her up. See she doesn't start anythin', an' keep your hands off her.”

Maltz looked hurt. “Gee!” he said. “I could use a honey like that.”

“If you touch her, I'll fix you,” Raven snarled. “Get on with it.” He turned to Carrie. “Get all these girls upstairs. Get 'em dressed to go out. Tell 'em to bring stuff for a night and you come yourself. Hurry.”

Carrie opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it. She shepherded the girls out of the room.

Upstairs, she turned on Sadie. “You're not to tell that guy you know him,” she said. “Do you understand?

When the time's right, then you can fix him... not before.”

Sadie didn't say anything.

Carrie went on: “If you blow the gaff I'll come after you. I'll find you okay. Then I'll do things to you until you wish you were dead. I mean that.”

Sadie flinched away from her and continued to dress. The other girls were puzzled and angry. All their questions were met with a stony stare from Carrie. All she would say was, “He's the bossask him.”

Downstairs, Raven jerked his head to Lefty. “Come on, we've got a lotta houses to look at before we sleep.

These guys will look after the girls. Watch that pippin, Maltz.”

Maltz nodded. “You bet,” he said sourly. “I'll watch her.”

Raven and Lefty went out and drove away.

Little Joe came up to Maltz. “This racket's gettin' interestin', ain't it?” he said. “That's the best bit of striptease I've seen for a long time.”

Maltz ignored him.

August 18th, 2.10 a.m.

RAVEN walked into the lobby of the St. Louis Hotel, followed by Little Joe and Lefty. He went immediately to the elevator which took him up to his suite.

Little Joe leant against the wall of the cage, his eyes half closed and a look of tired satisfaction softening the lines of his face. “I ain't seen so many floosies all at one time in my life,” he said. “Gee! Some of them were hot numbers.”

Lefty shrugged. “So much meat to me,” he said. “I've got no use for it when it's tossed at me like that.”

“Shut up, you two!” Raven said savagely. He had had a trying evening, but the first step of his scheme was successfully launched.

They went into the suite. Maltz was sitting in a large chair, dozing. He started up as they came in.

Raven looked at him hard. “She all right?”

Maltz rubbed his eyes. “Yeah,” he said; “she's sleepin' in there.”

Raven nodded and sat down. He tossed his hat on to the table. “Get me a drink, one of you,” he said, lighting a cigarette.

Little Joe went over to the wall cupboard and began to fix drinks.

Raven stretched. “Right now,” he said, “there ain't a girl hustling in this town.” He said it with great satisfaction. “Over at Franky's we've got a hundred and forty picked hustlers. The rest of the stuff is finished.

Tomorrow we're calling a meeting of bookers. I'm goin' to explain what they've got to do. In another week we'll reopen the houses. Then we'll make money.”

Maltz took a whisky from Little Joe. “What are the bookers supposed to do?”

“They're goin' to work for a change,” Raven said grimly. “We've got twenty houses. Each house can take thirty hustlers. We've got a hundred and forty already. They got to get me four hundred and sixty new girls.

They've got to get them fast. I've been working this out. We can get girls from Kansas City, Jefferson City, Denver, Springfields, and Cleveland. Once I get these houses started we'll organize houses in these towns as well. In every case we're goin' to secure a monopoly. Hustlers are not to work on the streets. We can't check on their earnings if they do. This'll take time. It's goin' to be big. The bookers will have to organize themselves and have a clearing−post. This can be at Sedalia. I don't care how they get the stuff. That's their look−out. The girls will only stay at one house for a week, then they'll be moved on to another house. Grantham's got to do some work. I'm takin' him out of the 22nd. Any guy can run that joint. Grantham's got brains, but he's lazy.

You three guys have got to get busy too. Give me two months and you'll all be makin' more dough than you'll know what to do with.”

Little Joe's face fell. Actually he was already getting more money than he knew how to spend.

Raven finished his drink and stood up. “Tomorrow you guys beat up the bookers and take them along to Franky's. We'll have a general meeting and then I'll explain to the girls what's comin' to them. Get some of the boys. I want the tough ones. Tell 'em to bring clubs. We might have a little trouble with some of those dames.”

The three nodded and left him.

Raven wandered up and down the room, thinking. He knew he would have to play his game very carefully.

It was worth the risks. If he slipped up on the Mann Act he was sunk.

He tossed his cigarette away and went into the bathroom to wash his hands. He didn't feel like sleep. His brain was too active. Quietly he crossed the room and opened the door of the spare bedroom. His hand reached out and groped for the light switch.

Sadie said out of the darkness, “Who is it?” Her voice sounded husky with fear.

Raven turned on the light.

She sat up, holding the sheet close to her chin. Her eyes looked very dark and big and her face was the colour of chalk.

Raven came and leant over the bedrail. “I want to talk to you,” he said quietly.

There was a long pause, then he went on, “How long have you been hustlin'?”

She didn't say anything.

He came round and sat on the bed. “If you don't answer my questions I'll hurt you,” he said. “How long?”

She looked at the thin face, the cold, merciless eyes and the paper−thin lips. She said, “I was forced into this two months ago.”

“Why?”

“I don't know.”

“Why didn't Carrie want me to see you?”

“I don't know.”

Raven said, “Get out of bed and take that thing off.”

Sadie shook her head wildly. “No...” she said, clinging to the sheet. “Leave me alone.”

“Do it,” Raven said.

“No. You're not touchin' me. I'll screamI'll scream....”

Raven hit her on the side of her jaw very hard. Her head snapped back and she went limp, falling against the top of the bed with a little thud.

He got off the bed, went into the other room and found some cord. He came back again, stripped off the sheet, turned her over on her face and tied her hands behind her. He turned her again and gagged her with her stockings that hung over the bedrail. Then he fastened her ankles securely to each of the bedposts. By the time he had finished she had recovered from the blow. Her eyes pleaded, but he didn't look at her.

He went out and came back after a few minutes with a small bottle containing some colourless fluid. He sat down beside her on the bed. “After tonight you'll do anything that I tell you without hesitation. I ain't got time to persuade you. I like a dame to obey. You'll obey after this.”

He took the cork out of the bottle and, bending over her shrinking body, poured the fluid on to her nightdress, low down.

She jerked as the cold fluid ran down her body. A strong smell of turpentine filled the room. Raven got up and replaced the cork. “It'll take a couple of weeks to get over this,” he said with a little grin. “But I can wait.

I shan't have to do it again.”

She lay very still, a puzzled look in her eyes. She couldn't understand why he had done this. She felt nothing, only the cold wetness on her skin. She could understand pain, she could understand beating, but this defeated her.

He made sure that her bonds were tight, testing the knots carefully. He adjusted the gag and then he straightened.

The puzzled look in her eyes suddenly gave way to fear. The fluid began to penetrate. She twisted this way and that as the horrible burning sensation began to grow.

Raven nodded. “I'll see you in the morning,” he said, turning out the light, and went away, leaving her writhing in the heavy darkness.

September 7th, 2.20 p.m.

WHEN Special Prosecutor Dewey said, “Don't you remember any testimony about Hines and the poultry racket there by him?” Jay Ellinger dropped his pencil and sat back with a gasp.

Hines's defender, Stryker, was already on his feet, shouting, “I demand a mistrial. Your Honour! Your Honour! I demand a mistrial!”

Ellinger whispered to the
Tribune
reporter, “It's over. They've been waitin' for a loophole like this.”

The
Tribune
reporter shook his head. “Naw,” he said, “they'll go on. This goddamn' trial will last for years.”

But Ellinger knew in his bones that Dewey had made just that one little slip that would give the Judge the chance of getting Hines freed. Although the trial dragged on over the week−end, by Monday everyone knew that Dewey's tremendous work of bringing Hines to trial had to be started all over again.

Ellinger got his copy off and then immediately caught a train back to East St. Louis. He was determined to resign before he could be sent on some other job that would keep him from the work he had been impatiently waiting to tackle.

Since he had been away he hadn't heard one word from Benny. He had been so busy attending the Hines trial that he had not been able to check up with the home town news. Now, as he stepped out of the train, he could hardly contain his patience to get started.

He took a taxi to the
Banner
offices and went immediately to see Henry.

He burst into the office. Henry gaped at him. “What the hell are you doin' here?” he snapped. “I want”

“Save it,” Jay said quickly; “I'm through. I quit. I resign.... Get it?”

Henry relaxed in his chair. “Wait a minute,” he said. “You gone crazy?”

Jay sat down. “No,” he said, “I'm just through. I thought I'd get that in before you gave me another little job out of town. Poison ain't keeping me muzzled any more, Henry. I'm working on my own for a while.”

Henry sighed. “Okay,” he said, “I'll tell him.”

“Now listen, Chief, tell me what's been goin' on. Anythin' new on the Mendetta angle?”

Henry lit a cigar. “Plenty,” he said briefly. “Vice's been organized on a big scale here. From reports that I hear, whoever it is who's running the game is doing it on a real money−making scheme. He's got the monopoly here. The girls have been driven off the streets. You've never seen anything like it. You won't find one single girl poundin' a beat. Even the cops couldn't clean up a town as this guy's done. But he's got houses everywhere. At his own prices. The rake−off must be colossal.”

“Who is it?”

Henry shrugged. “They say it's Grantham. He's payin' all the bills. The cops are so well oiled that they leave him alone. Poison won't let a word in his papers. The other rags follow his lead. Everyone is making money, as far as I can see, except the girls themselves.”

“Any girls missing?”

Henry nodded. “The Missing People's Bureau has been taken over by a guy named Goldburg. He's in Grantham's pocket. No one does anything about the girls. They just write up particulars and that's all. The increase in missing girls is up forty per cent. They're gettin' girls in from outside too. The guys I've met who've been to the houses tell me that every week there's a new set of girls. They're drilled in every form of vice imaginable.”

Jay rubbed his hands. “I'm goin' after this racket, Chief,” he said. “I'll smash it or bust.”

Henry looked worried. “It's too big for you,” he said. “These guys are makin' dough now. They're dangerous.”

“If I can find out anythin' to prove it I'll turn the whole thing over to the F.B.I.,” Jay said. “I ain't tacklin'

them single−handed.”

“What the hell do you think the F.B.I. are doin' now?” Henry snapped. “They're just waitin' to pounce. This guy is so smart they can't move yet. If they catch him in the Mann Act they can move. But no one knows how he gets his girls across the State line.”

Jay got up. “Well, I'm free. I've got nothin' to do. So I may as well look this over. If I can tie Poison up to this I'll do it.”

Henry reached out his hand. “Good luck,” he said. “If I'd the guts I'd get out of this game myself. I'm too old now to look for anything else.”

Jay shook hands with him. “Leave it to me,” he said. “If I want any help I'll come and see you.”

Henry smiled crookedly. “After today, Jay,” he said, “you and I've got to take different roads. Poison will make me go after you.”

Jay went to the door. “Okay,” he said, “I'll remember that,” and he went out fast.

September 7th, 10.45 p.m.

THE SMART little dance−hall was crowded. Soft lights, heady swing, and laughter. It drew the girls and their partners like moths to a naked flame.

A tall, good−looking Jew, well dressed, a small diamond glittering in his tie, glanced carefully round the room as he sat at a quiet table. Particularly, his eyes dwelt on the line of unattended girls who sat chattering to each other, laughing and giggling, but hoping for a male to take them on to the floor.

The Jew examined each girl swiftly as his eye swept down the line. He selected one. She was pretty, young, with a nice figure. She looked a lot more lively than the others, and in a mild way was trying to catch the eyes of the guys who every now and then walked along to find a new partner.

The Jew knew that this particular dance−hall always had a lot more girls than partners. It was a happy−hunting−ground for him. He got languidly to his feet and walked over to the line. He made straight for the girl he had selected.

He said in a soft voice, “I'd like a dance if you'll give me one.”

She got up at once. “Sure,” she said. She knew he was a Jew, but he was tall and handsome. She didn't mind.

They danced in silence. He knew his stuff and she thought he was a swell dancer. When the band cut out he took her back to her seat. He was satisfied she was the right type.

“That was grand,” he said. “I'd like another later.”

He went out almost immediately and signalled to a car, parked across the road. Then he went back to the hall. The band had started playing again, and he saw she was dancing with a little guy who kept tripping over her feet.