I needed a little talk with Marion Lester. I wanted to know why she lied and who made her lie. I?d tell her once to talk, and if she wouldn?t I?d work her over until she?d be glad to talk, glad to scream her guts out and put the finger on the certain somebody I was after.
Chapter Eleven
I tried hard to locate Pat. I tried until my nickels were spent and there wasn?t any place else to try. He was out chasing a name that didn?t matter anymore and I couldn?t find him at the time when I needed him most. I left messages for him to either stay in his office or go home until I called him and they promised to tell him when, and if, he came in. My shirt was soaked through with cold sweat when I got finished.
The sky had loosened up again and was letting more flakes of snow sift down. Great. Just great. More minutes wasted getting around. I checked the time and swore some big curses then climbed in the car and turned north into traffic. Jean Trotter and Wheeler. It all came back to Wheeler after all. The two were murdered for the same reason. Why . . . because he saw and recognized her as an old friend? Was it something he knew about her that made him worth killing? Was it something she knew about him?
There was blackmail to it, some insidious kind of blackmail that could scare the pants off a guy like Emil Perry and a dozen other big shots who couldn?t afford to leave town when it pleased them. Photographs. Burned photographs. Models. A photographer named Anton Lipsek. A tough egg called Rainey. The brains named Clyde. They added.
I laughed so loud my chest, hurt. I laughed and laughed and promised myself the skin of a killer. When I had the proof I could collect the skin and the D.A., the cops and anybody else could go to hell. I?d be clean as a whistle and I?d make them all kiss my rear end. The D.A. especially.
I had to park a block away from the Chadwick Hotel and walk back. My coat collar was up around my face like everyone else?s and I wasn?t worried about being seen. A patrolman swinging a night stick went by and never gave me a tumble. The lobby of the hotel was small, but crowded with a lot of faces taking a breather from the weather outside.
The Mom type at the desk gave me a smile and a nasal hello when I went to the desk. ?I?d like to see Miss Lester,? I said.
?You?ve been here before, sonny. Go ahead up.?
?Mind if I use your phone first??
?Nah, go ahead. Want me to connect you with her room??
?Yeah.?
She fussed with the plugs in the switchboard and triggered her button a few times. There was no answer. The woman shrugged and made a sour face. ?She came in and I didn?t see her go out. Maybe she?s in the tub. Them babes is always taking baths anyway. Go on up and pound on her door.?
I shoved the phone back and went up the stairs. They squeaked, but there was so much noise in the lobby nobody seemed to mind. I found Marion?s room and knocked twice. A little light was seeping out from under the door so I figured the clerk had been right about the bath. I listened, but I didn?t hear any splashing.
I knocked again, louder.
Still no answer.
I tried the door and it opened easily enough.
It was easy to see why she couldn?t answer the door. Marion Lester was as dead as a person could get. I closed the door quietly and stepped in the room. ?Damn,? I said, ?damn it all to hell!?
She had on a pair of red satin pajamas and was sprawled out face down. You might have thought she was asleep if you didn?t notice the angle of her neck. It had been broken with such force the snapped vertebra was pushed out against the skin. On the opposite side of the neck was a bluish imprint of the weapon. When I put the edge of my palm against the mark it almost fit and the body was stone-cold and stiff.
The only weapon our killer liked was his strong hands.
I lifted the phone and when the clerk came on I said, ?When did Miss Lester come in??
?Hell, she came in this morning drunk as a skunk. She could hardly navigate. Ain?t she there now??
?She?s here now, all right. She won?t be going out again very soon either. She?s dead. You better get up here right away.?
The woman let out a muffled scream and started to run without bothering to break the connection. I heard her feet pounding on the stairs and she wrenched the door open without any formalities. Her face went from white to gray then flushed until the veins of her forehead stood out like pencils. ?Lawd! Did you do this??
She practically fell into a chair and wiped her hand across her eyes. I said, ?She?s been dead for hours. Now take it easy and think. Understand, think. I want to know who was up here today. Who called on her or even asked for her. You ought to know, you?ve been here all day.?
Her mouth moved, the thick lips hanging limp. ?Lawd!? she said.
I grabbed her shoulders and shook her until her teeth rattled. A little life came back into her eyes. ?Answer me and stop looking foolish. Who was up here today??
Her head wobbled from side to side. ?This tears it, sonny. The joint?ll be ruined. Lawd, there goes my job!? She buried her face in her hands and moaned foolishly.
I slapped her hands away and made her look at me. ?Listen. She isn?t the first. The same guy that killed her killed two others and unless he?s stopped there?s going to be more killing. Can you understand that??
She nodded dumbly, terror creeping into her eyes. ?All right, who was up here to see her today??
?Nobody. Not nobody at all.?
?Somebody was here. Somebody killed her.?
?H--how do I know who killed her??
?I didn?t say that. I said somebody was here.?
She pulled her thick lips together and licked them. ?Look, sonny, I don?t take a count of who comes and goes in this place. It?s easy to get in and it?s easy to get out. Lotsa guys come in here.?
?And you don?t notice them??
?No.?
?Why??
?I ain?t . . . I ain?t supposed to.?
?So the dump?s a whorehouse. Nothing but a whorehouse.?
She glared at me indignantly, the terror fading. ?I ain?t no madam, sonny. It?s just a place where the babes can stay with no questions asked, is all. I ain?t no madam.?
?Do you know what?s going to happen around here?? I said. ?In ten minutes this place will be crawling with cops. There?s no sense running because they?ll catch up with you. When they find out what?s going on . . . and they will . . . you?ll be up the creek. Now you can either start thinking and maybe have a little while to get yourself a clear story to offer them or you can take what the cops have to hand out. What will it be??
She looked me straight in the eye and told the God?s honest truth. ?Sonny,? she said, ?if my life depended upon it I couldn?t tell you anything different. I don?t know who was in here today. The place was crawling with people ever since noontime and I read a book most of the day.?
I felt like I fell through a manhole. ?Okay, lady. Maybe there?s somebody else who would know.?
?Nobody else. The girls who clean the halls only work in the morning. The guests take care of their own rooms. Everyone who lives here is a regular. No overnighters.?
?No bellboys??
?We ain?t had ?em for a year. We don?t need ?em.?
I looked back at the remains of Marion Lester and wanted to vomit. Nobody knew a thing. The killer had no face. Nobody saw him. They felt him and didn?t live to tell about it. Only me. I was lucky, I got away. First the killer tried to shoot me. It didn?t work. Then he tried an ambush and slipped up there. I was the most important one in the whole lot.
And I couldn?t make a target of myself because there wasn?t time to play bait.
I looked at Marion and talked to the woman who sat there trembling from head to foot. ?Go on downstairs and put me through to the police department. I?ll call them from here but I won?t be here when they come. You can tell them the same thing you told me. Go on, beat it.?
