This Girl for Hire (17 page)

“No, I don't. What the hell is this? I came into Avalon to help you; is this the thanks I get?”

“I don't know what kind of thanks you're looking for,” I said, “but whatever it is, you'll get it. I'll see to that personally.”

We walked down the long flight of steps. I checked with the water-taxi service. There was no record of a message being delivered to
Hell's Light
, but the log did show a boat had gone out to Aces' yacht around four o'clock. Chief Clements, several policemen and a half-dozen Coast Guardsmen were on the pier. I asked the police officer whether Rod Caine had reported to the police station and the chief confirmed the incident.

“It was about an hour before you came back and phoned Lieutenant Storm in Los Angeles,” Clements said.

I gave the police chief a description of Danny Marble, his girl friend, Toni, and the three strip-poker players.

“If you find them, hold all five on suspicion of narcotics possession.” I glanced at Rod and added, “They might lead us to the murderer.”

On the water taxi out to
Hell's Light
, Rod was ominously quiet. I wanted to check one
phase of his story—Lori Aces' black eye.

My mind kept searching for a connection between the murderer and Danny Marble. Had the metal case actually been found in the bay by the kid? This was a vital question. So was the whereabouts of the boys from the strip-poker game. The manager had said they'd checked out “in a hurry” around the time I'd left the card game. Their cabin, stripped to the pare furniture, revealed no evidence of narcotics.

Rod interrupted my thoughts. “I overheard your conversation with Chief Clements. What's Danny Marble got to do with all this?”

“You know him?” I asked.

“Sure. He's played a lot of tough-kid parts in TV films. I've seen him around Television Riviera. He pals around with a hype named Toni Scortt.”

“A voluptuous blonde with blue eyes?”

“Yeah, that's the one,” Rod said. “They were great pals with Sam Aces. Sam gave Marble a couple of bits in the Swanson series. Toni likes to act, too, when she isn't on the needle.”

“How friendly are they with you?” I asked.

“We say ‘hello,' that's all. I dated Toni once, about a year ago. I headed for the nearest exit when she brought out her little kit and a handful of caps.”

“Is Marble a user?” I demanded.

“I don't know. I don't think so. He's always been a heavy drinker. The two don't usually go together.”

“Rod, did you have any hypodermic needles
in your lab case?”

“Sure. Why? You don't think I take junk, do you? Here, look.” He held out his arms. They were unmarked except for the scratch on his right forearm.

The gleaming white hull of
Hell's Light
became visible through the mist and spray. Carruthers was on the float to help steady the taxi as Rod and I climbed out. We thanked the old man and proceeded to the main deck.

Lori Aces was not in the swimming pool. We checked her cabin. We searched up forward, the stern, the lower deck, the engine room.

“She's somewhere,” Rod said. “She's got to be, unless she left the ship.”

“That's possible.” I glanced over the railing. “How many feet to the bottom?”

He caught my arm. “Don't be funny. I don't like that kind of joke.”

“I don't like the kind of joke someone played on me back at Avalon. It was a lead-pipe cinch to fold me into all kinds of laughter, but I dodged the punch line.”

Rod gritted his teeth. “Honey, you burn me right to the ground. Make sense or quit beating your gums.”

I twisted his forearm to reveal the long scratch. “Who gave you that?”

“Lori! How many times do I have to tell you?”

“You're lying!”

“I'm not lying!”

I held up my left hand and pointed to the index finger. The nail was torn off to the
quick. “It's my hunch,” I said, “this nail did the trick.”

“You're crazy!”

“You were in cabin thirty-six in the Villa, weren't you?”

Rod swallowed. “Yes, but—”

“Somebody swung at me in the dark and I clawed him with my fingernail. How do you explain the coincidence?”

“I—I don't know. But Lori can explain—”

“Did anyone see you and Lori tangle?” I demanded.

“No. We were in her cabin.”

“Did you make any noise?”

“She screamed when I hit her.” He opened the front of his shirt revealing deep scratches across his chest. “Do you want to credit yourself with these, too?”

I winced. It looked like the work of a wildcat. “I'm sorry, Rod. I wanted to believe you, but the coincidence was just too much for me.”

He said, “Would you call this the luck of Swanson? Even when he doesn't try, the evidence still comes up with my name on it.”

“What do you think's happened to Lori Aces,” I asked. He started aft. “That's what I'd like to know. Maybe she went to my place. I'm sure she didn't see me leave on the water taxi.”

We checked with the people in the bar. Nobody remembered seeing Lori since lunch. Rod got a pair of binoculars and peered through the mist at the shore.

“I think there's a light,” he said, lowering the glasses. “But I can't be sure. It's pretty hazy out there.”

“Let's go look,” I said. I'd still like to hear Lori's side of the story.”

Rod shook his head. “I think you were born skeptical. Come on!”

We started for the float, then he stopped
abruptly. “Have you got your .32 along for protection,” he asked.

“Naturally,” I said. “You don't think I'd trust you entirely, do you?”

“Of course not,” Rod grumbled. “I just wanted to make sure.”

Rod's cabin cruiser wasn't tied up at the float. I asked him if Lori might have taken it.

“Nope. I ran the cruiser over to the cave when the blow started up this afternoon. I was afraid if the storm got as bad as it did a couple of days ago, she'd be knocked galley west.”

“How'd you get back?”

“Carruthers followed me over in one of the putters.” We climbed into a small boat and started toward shore.

I tried to unlock this case as we cut through the dark waters. Lori Aces had one of several keys. She could definitely eliminate Rod Caine from the cabin attack. But, more than that, she could explain the significance of her meeting with Max Decker in the Jolly Inn bar the same day Aces' blood-stained jacket was found at Little Harbor. I had a hunch Lori held the major key to the whole case. But whether she'd turn it for me was another matter.

Then there was Danny Marble. A clever kid. A very clever kid. He'd probably known all along who I was. He held a big key. Maybe the most important
one. He was getting paid off to pull a few stunts and, obviously, the payoff man was the killer. Was it Swanson? There were only three logical suspects left. Golden Boy, Rod Caine and Lori Aces.

I glanced at Rod out of the corner of my eye. I knew this was the work of a very clever dangerous maniac. This fact bothered me plenty. The finger of suspicion pointed all too clearly at Bob Swanson.

Rod veered the boat into the cave and we stepped out. His own cruiser was raised out of the water on its pulleys. As we walked up the path to the cabin, I had a raw feeling in the pit of my stomach. A kerosene lamp burned in the living room.

Rod opened the front door. “Lori? Lori, where are you?”

No answer. We looked through the house. In the bed room we found a pile of feminine garments. A sweater dark slacks, a small bra, panties and high heels. They belonged to Lori Aces.

Rod picked up the shoes. “I don't get it,” he said, shaking his head. “She was wearing this stuff the last time I saw her.”

I walked outside and checked the grounds. When I returned Rod was still studying the shoes. I lighted a cigarette and sat down.

“Let's conjure up a vision, pal,” I said. “Where is she, taking a midnight swim in the nude?”

“I—I don't know,” Rod stammered.

“I suppose you noticed there
weren't any other boats down below. What do you make of that?”

Rod tossed the shoes on the bed and threw up his hands. “I tell you I don't know. Honey, believe me, I'm as much in the dark about this thing as you are.”

“If you saw there were no other boats, why'd you call her name when you walked in?”

“There was a light,” Rod said. “I did it instinctively.”

“You do a lot of things instinctively, don't you?”

“No,” he said angrily. “I don't kill instinctively, if that's what you mean!”

“How do you kill, Rod?”

“I don't!”

He stormed into the living room, poured a shot of whiskey and slugged it down non-stop.

“You want one?” he asked, holding up the bottle.

I shook my head.

Nervously, he poured again, spilling some on the floor. “What gives you the idea Lori's dead?” he asked.

“I didn't say I thought she was.”

Rod gulped down another shot and wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand. “Cut the doubletalk,” he said. “Maybe she is out for a swim. Lori's always been cracked on swimming in the raw.”

“So I understand. But where's the boat that brought her here?”

“Maybe she swam from
Hell's Light
.”

“She swam nearly a mile in high heels?”

Rod set the bottle down hard. “I told you, I don't know!”

“Well, I do. She couldn't have done it unless she carried the
shoes in her teeth.”

He threw himself in a chair and groaned. “All right. If the merry-go-round ring fits, I'll wear it. I guess we've been working up to this, haven't we?”

“I don't know,” I said. ‘That's a question you'll have to answer.

“Okay,” Rod said, “I'll answer it. Maybe I am a pigeon for Aces and Meeler and Decker. But what about Ann Claypool? I couldn't have done that one. We were together the whole time.”

I pulled out the .32 and leveled it at him. “Were we, Rod? I thought about that while I was in Avalon. Remember, you heard someone running outside my cabin. You disappeared for a few minutes. Long enough to stop off for a short visit with little Ann. Long enough to—”

“No!” Rod got to his feet. “For God's sake, Honey, what would I want to kill Ann Claypool for? Or Aces or Meeler or Decker? I didn't like Sam, true, but Meeler was my friend. And as for Max Decker or Ann Claypool, I had nothing against either of them. Maybe I disliked Sam Aces enough to want to kill him, but I didn't kill him! And the other three—sure, they had their bad points—but so do I.”

“I'd like to believe you, Rod,” I said softly. “But there are only two people now who can possibly clear you in this mess—Lori Aces and Bob Swanson.”

Rod paced around the room nervously. Finally, he stopped and stared at me. “Look, Honey! Lori Aces may be mired up with Swanson in this business. If she is, I'm in trouble! Don't you understand? They could vanish. Head for South America and hole up for ten
years if they wanted to. And where would that leave me?”

“In a gas chamber,” I said.

“Yeah, that's right!” Rod retorted. “And don't think these clothes of Lori's and anything else Swanson wants to plant around the island, won't contribute to sending me there.”

He picked up the whiskey bottle, juggled it an instant and then swung it hard in my direction. Glass and whiskey sprayed in all directions. So did the gun. Before I had a chance to pick up the right piece of merchandise, Rod had the revolver in his hand and was pointing it straight at my middle.

“I'm sorry to have to do this, Honey,” he said, “but you leave me no choice.”

I stood my ground, tight as a drum. “If you didn't kill anyone, you have nothing to worry about. Give me the gun.”

“Not this trip, baby,” Rod said. “I'm the guy with the merry-go-round ring, remember? That entitles me to a free ride to the gas chamber. Only I'm not accepting the prize.”

“You'd never die for something you didn't do!”

Rod smiled unhappily. “Sing that lullaby in church, Honey. You'll get a better collection.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“Get out of here,” Rod answered. “I can take a piece of that South America bit myself. I'm not proud. Maybe I'll run across two old friends of mine. If I do, I'll send you back their skulls—after I shrink them down to size.” He started for the door.

“Running away won't help, Rod. That's what Swanson wants, don't you see? You'll never clear yourself this way. He could turn up in a week
with lily white hands and an iron-clad alibi. And when the police caught you, you'd hang for sure. You can bet on that.”

Rod said grimly, “Either way, I've had it.” He reached the doorway. “Now take my advice. Don't come down that path for at least fifteen minutes. I like life and I don't plan to give it up for anyone, understand?”

I nodded half-heartedly, and he was gone. I considered several plans to stop him, but discarded them all. If Rod Caine were the murderer, he wouldn't hesitate to add me to the score.

If he weren't, it didn't really matter if he escaped. I was certain he'd turn up sooner or later.

I examined Rod's portable typewriter, a brand new Royal with a blue chassis. I fed a piece of paper into it. The type was distinctive. I recognized it immediately. It had exactly the same characteristics as the type on the notes found in Rod Caine's and Max Decker's coat pockets.

I entered his bedroom again and checked the closets and bureau drawers. Then I looked under the bed.

A battered nude body stared sightlessly at me.

S
WEET CHILDLIKE LORI WAS A NIGHTMARE. SHE'D BEEN
viciously beaten to death and there were bruises all over her body.