No Orchids for Miss Blandish (20 page)

"Now start using your brains," Brennan said. "How do we bust in there and get to the girl before she gets hurt?"

Anna shrugged.

"Search me. I'm not running your stinking police force. That's your job."

"When the club's open, what are the chances of rushing the place?" Fenner asked.

"Not a chance. They've really got that end organized. Every member is known. Until they identify themselves, the door's not opened."

"Is there any other way in?"

"I don't know of one."

Brennan and Fenner exchanged glances. Fenner shrugged.

"Okay," Brennan said. He went to the door and called the wardress. "Take her to Doyle's office and sit with her."

"Hey!" Anna exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "You're not keeping me here! Now listen..."

"You're staying here until we get die girl," Brennan said. "Take her away."

Protesting loudly, Anna was pushed out of the room. When her yells had died away down the passage, Brennan said. "She's told us exactly nothing."

"Except there is a girl in the locked room," Fenner said, "and it can't be anyone else but the Blandish girl, but how do we get her out?"

"If we're going to bust in there," Brennan said, "we've got to make sure none of the club members are there. The first move is to cordon off the joint and stop anyone going in. The club opens around ten o'clock," He looked at his watch. "It's not yet eight. If we could pick up one of the Grisson gang, we might be able to persuade him to talk. There may be another way into the club besides through that steel door." He picked up the telephone receiver. "That you, Doyle? I want one of the Grisson gang, and I want him fast. No, I don't care who it is. Get them all if you can, but I want at least one in a hurry. Okay." He hung up. "If any of those rats are floating around town, we'll have them. There's not much else we can do now except wait."

"We should tell Blandish what's cooking," Fenner said. "After all, she's his daughter."

Brennan hesitated, then nodded. He waved to the telephone.

"Okay: go ahead and tell him," he said.

Eddie Schultz discovered he wasn't as tough as he imagined he was. Although the movie he was watching had plenty of action, it didn't hold his interest.

He kept thinking of Miss Blandish. She would be dead by now, he told himself. What would Ma do with the girl's body? He guessed that would be a lousy job for him and Flynn to handle. How would Slim react? Eddie thought he wouldn't be in Ma's shoes for any money.

Suddenly he couldn't stand the darkness of the movie house any longer. He got up and pushing his way roughly past the three people between him and the aisle, he walked to the exit. The time was three minutes past eight. He needed a drink. Crossing the street, he went into a bar, ordered a double Scotch, then went over to a telephone booth and called his apartment. He would tell Anna to join him at the bar, and they would have an early dinner together. He didn't feel like sharing his own company any longer.

He was irritated when he got no answer. It was unusual for Anna to leave the apartment before nine. Where had she got to? He went back to the bar, tossed off the drink, paid for it and left the bar. He decided he'd drive over to his apartment. Maybe Anna had slipped out for a moment and would be back.

He reached his apartment, parked his car and entered the apartment lobby.

The janitor, a heavily built Negro, was sitting in his office, reading the racing sheet.

"Hi, Curly," Eddie said, pausing, "did you see Miss Borg go out?"

The janitor lowered his newspaper.

"Sure did, Mr. Schultz. She went out ten minutes after you did." He squinted at Eddie curiously. "She had a suitcase with her."

Eddie frowned.

"Okay, Curly." He crossed to the elevator and rode up to his apartment, unlocked the door and entered. He went into the bedroom. The closet doors stood wide open. He saw at a glance most of Anna's clothes were missing.

He swore under his breath. So she had skipped! Should he tell Ma? He hesitated. Ma would have to know. He crossed over to the telephone as the front doorbell rang.

Who could this be? he asked himself uneasily. His hand slid inside his coat and his fingers closed over the butt of his gun. He went to the door.

"Who is it?" he called.

"A message from Miss Borg, Mr. Schultz," the janitor called.

Hurriedly, Eddie unlocked the door which smashed open as he turned the handle, sending him reeling back into the room. Before he could recover his balance, two big men had piled into the room and were covering him with guns.

"Take it easy, Schultz," one of them said. "Just keep your hands still."

The janitor, his eyes rolling, peered into the room, then he turned and hurried away.

Eddie faced the detectives.

"You've got nothing on me," he said, a cold uneasy feeling in his stomach. "What's the big idea--busting in like this?"

One of the big men moved around him and took away his gun.

"Got a permit for this, Schultz?" he asked.

Eddie didn't say anything.

"Come on. Don't let's have any trouble. If you want it, you can have plenty of it, but why want it?"

"I'm not coming with you," Eddie snarled. "You've got nothing on me."

"The same old story," the detective said. "Let's go." Eddie hesitated, then he let the two men shove him into the elevator and down to the waiting police car. Ten minutes later, he was facing Brennan and Fenner in Brennan's office.

"What's the big idea?" Eddie blustered. "You've no right to bring me here. I want my lawyer."

"Show him the exhibits," Brennan said, "then bring him back."

Shrugging, Eddie swaggered out with the two detectives, but he felt far from swaggering. Why had they picked up Anna? Just how much did Anna know? Had she talked?

Five minutes later, he was back in front of Brennan, white-faced and shaking.

"We know you and your pals knocked those guys off," Brennan said. "Johnny talked before he was hit. We know you and your pals snatched the Blandish girl. You have a chance to save your dirty hide, Schultz. We want the girl out of the club. You tell us how we get her out and I'll see you keep out of the gas chamber. You'll go away for ten to fifteen, but you'll save your goddamn hide. Is it a deal?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, copper," Eddie said, sweat running down his face. "I didn't snatch the girl... I didn't kill those guys. I want my lawyer."

"I haven't time to argue with you, Schultz," Brennan said. "Your only hope is to come clean, and you'd better come clean fast or else you'll wish you were never born."

"I tell you I don't know a thing!" Eddie shouted. "I want my lawyer."

Brennan picked up the telephone receiver. "Send O'Flagherty and Doogan up here right away," he said and as he replaced the receiver, he went on to Eddie, "These two guys have been pushed around badly by gangsters like you. O'Flagherty was in hospital for four months and Doogan lost an eye. We keep them on the force because they wouldn't know what to do with themselves if we didn't, they're not much use for active service, but they do have their uses. They hate gangsters. Every now and then I get a tough bird like you who won't cooperate with me. I hand him over to these two guys and they love to have him. I don't inquire what they do to him, but invariably he talks after being with them for a couple of hours or less. He invariably looks a hell of a mess when he comes back here to do his talking, but that doesn't worry me because my two boys were in a hell of a mess when we found them after the gangsters had worked them over."

Eddie had heard about O'Flagherty and Doogan. He knew some of the boys had beaten up the two detectives, and at the time, he had rubbed his hands gleefully at the news, but the idea of having these two apes work him over appalled him.

"You can't do this to me!" he exclaimed, backing up against the wall. "I've got friends! You touch me and I'll see you lose your job."

Brennan grinned wolfishly.

"All you rats say the same thing--I'm still here."

The door bounced open and two men came in. Eddie had never seen men as big as these two with the exception of professional heavyweights. They were dressed in sweat shirts and blue slacks. The sight of their enormous, rolling muscles and their hard, brutal faces turned him cold.

They stood by the door, looking at him. Doogan, whose empty red eye socket seemed to glare directly at Eddie, folded enormous hands into fists. O'Flagherty, his face scarred, his nose flattened, looked expectantly at Brennan.

"Boys," Brennan said, "this is Eddie Schultz. We know he's connected with the kidnapping of the Blandish girl. He says there's no one on this pansy police force who can make him talk. Do you want to have a try at him?"

O'Flagherty showed his broken teeth in a grin. He eyed Eddie the way a tiger might eye a fat goat.

"Sure, Captain," he said. "We would like a try. He doesn't look so tough."

Doogan walked up to Eddie.

"Are you tough, baby?" he asked, peering at Eddie with his one eye. His right hand whizzed up and slapped Eddie across his face. It was as if he had been hit with a sledge hammer. He rocketed across the room and went down on his hands and knees, his head spinning, his face on fire.

"Hey! Not in my goddamn office!" Brennan protested. "I don't want blood all over the place. Get him out of here!" Eddie pushed himself to his feet. His nerve cracked as Doogan and O'Flagherty closed in on him.

"Call them off!" he yelled. "I'll talk! Don't let them touch me!"

"Hold it, boys," Brennan said and got to his feet.

The two policemen drew back, gaping in astonishment and disappointment at Eddie.

"I'll talk," Eddie repeated, holding his bruised, flaming cheek. "Don't let them touch me."

"Well, this is a surprise," Brennan said. "Okay, boys, wait outside. If I think he needs loosening up, I'll call you."

Doogan wiped his nose with the back of his hand in a gesture of disgust.

"Can I hit him once more, Captain?" he asked hopefully, doubling his fists.

Eddie backed away, shielding his face with his hands.

"Not right now," Brennan said. "Maybe later."

Reluctantly, the two policemen went out.

"Sit down," Brennan said.

Eddie sank into a chair, facing Brennan.

"Is the Blandish girl in the club?" Brennan asked.

Eddie licked his lips.

"Is that deal still on, Captain? You keep me out of the gas box?"

"It's still on. Is she in there?"

"Yeah."

"How do we get to her?"

Eddie hesitated, then he blurted out, "She's dead, Captain. There was nothing I could do about it. It was Ma. She made Doc knock her off."

Both Fenner and Brennan got to their feet.

"Are you lying?" Brennan asked in a cold, harsh voice.

"I tell you it was nothing to do with me," Eddie said frantically. "Ma always wanted to get rid of the girl, but Slim fell for her. Then we heard this guy was going to talk to Johnny and Ma sent Slim and the boys to fix Johnny. While Slim was out of the way, Ma decided to knock the girl off. I tried to stop her, but you can't do a goddamn thing with Ma once she's made up her mind. She told Doc to give the girl a shot."

Brennan and Fenner exchanged glances. Fenner made a gesture of helplessness. All along, he had expected to hear Miss Blandish was dead: this came as no surprise to him.

"Is there another way into the club except past that steel door?" Brennan asked.

"Through the warehouse next door," Eddie said. "There's a door in the wall on the left as you go in."

Brennan yelled for Doogan.

"Take this rat down to the cells," he said as Doogan came in, "and lay off him, do you hear?"

Doogan grabbed hold of Eddie and hustled him out.

Fenner said, "Maybe it's the best thing. Even her old man hoped she would be dead. I'd better tell him."

"Yeah. Well, I'll fix that old bitch of a woman. Do you want to come along?"

"I'll be along. I'll call Blandish first."

As Fenner reached for the telephone, Brennan ran out, yelling instructions to the riot squad sergeant.

MISS Blandish leaned against the wall, biting her knuckles because she couldn't scream and because she wanted to. She stared in horror at Rocco as he lay on the ornate rug. From the many wounds inflicted on him, blood made snake-like bands across the floor.

Slim stood over him, breathing heavily, his blood-stained knife dangling between his slack fingers. He bent over Rocco and wiped his knife clean on the dead man's coat.

"He won't bother you again," he said and grinned at Miss Blandish. "So long as I'm around, no one will ever bother you."

He went over to the window and looked down in the street. The traffic was heavy and people were crowding the sidewalks, going home. He realized he couldn't show himself with the girl on the streets. She could easily be recognized. He wondered how Ma would cope with this situation. He glanced over at Rocco, then an idea occurred to him. He was immediately pleased with himself. He'd show Ma she wasn't the only one with brains.

He crossed to the closet, opened it and pulled out one of Rocco's suits. He found a shirt and tie. He threw the clothes on the divan.

"Put those on," he said to Miss Blandish. "I've got to get you home somehow. Go on, get into that rig."

Miss Blandish shook her head and backed away. Impatiently, Slim pulled her to the divan.

"Do what I say!" he said, pinching her arm. "Put 'em on!"

Fearfully and reluctantly, she peeled the cheap cotton dress over her head and let it drop to the floor. Then she hurriedly reached for the shirt, aware that Slim was watching her.

They looked at each other. She read the message in his eyes, and clutching the shirt to her, she backed away.

"No... please..."

Slim shuffled over to her and snatched the shirt from her. His mouth was pursed, his breathing suddenly violent, his eyes blank.

Shuddering and unresisting, she let him lead her to the divan.

The clock on the mantel ticked busily. The minute hand crawled on across the ornate clock face. A large bluebottle fly buzzed excitedly over the bloodstain on Rocco's coat. The traffic in the street below halted, moved on with a grinding of gears, then halted again.