The Girl Hunters

on my chest. 'Mike, my boy, no more. Whatever it is, I want none of it. The last time out taught me a lesson I won't forget. I'm old, I scare easy, and what life is left to me I want to enjoy. Okay?'

'Sure.'

'Then forget whatever you came in here to ask me. Don't let me talk over my head about the old days or try and make like a reporter again.'

'You won't get shot at.'

Bayliss nodded and shrugged. 'How can I argue with you? What do you want to know?'

'What ship was Richie Cole on?'

'The Vanessa.'

'What pier?'

'She was at number twelve, but that won't do you any good now.'

'Why not?'

'Hell, she sailed the day before yesterday.'

What I had to say I did under my breath. Everything was right out the window because I thought too slow and a couple of days had made all the difference.

'What was on it, Mike?'

'I wanted to see a guy.'

'Oh? I thought it was the ship. Well maybe you can still see some of the guys. You know the Vanessa was the ship they had the union trouble with. Everybody complained about the chow and half the guys wouldn't sign back on. The union really laid into 'em.'

Then suddenly there was a chance again and I had to grab at it. 'Listen, Bayliss--who did Cole hang around with on the ship?'

'Jeepers, Mike, out at sea--'

'Did he have any friends on board?'

'Well, no, I'd say.'

'Come on, damn it, a guy doesn't sail for months and not make some kind of an acquaintance!'

'Yeah, I know--well, Cole was a chess player and there was this one guy--let's see, Red Markham--yeah, that's it, Red Markham. They'd have drinks together and play chess together because Red sure could play chess. One time--'

'Where can I find this guy?'

'You know where Annie Stein's pad is?'

'The flophouse?'

'Yeah. Well, you look for him there. He gets drunk daytimes and flops early.'

'Suppose you go along.'

'Mike, I told you--'

'Hy Gardner's outside.'

Bayliss looked up and grinned. 'Well, shoot. If he's along I'll damn well go. He was still running copy when I did the police beat.'

Annie Stein's place was known as the Harbor Hotel. It was a dollar a night flop, pretty expensive as flops go, so the trade was limited to occasional workers and itinerant seamen. It was old and dirty and smelled of disinfectant and urine partially smothered by an old-man odor of defeat and decay.

The desk clerk froze when we walked in, spun the book around without asking, not wanting any trouble at all. Red Markham was in the third room on the second floor, his door half open, the sound and smell of him oozing into the corridor.

I pushed the door open and flipped on the light. Overhead a sixty-watt bulb turned everything yellow. He was curled on the cot, an empty pint bottle beside him, breathing heavily through his mouth. On the chair with his jacket and hat was a pocket-sized chessboard with pegged chessmen arranged in some intricate move.

It took ten minutes of cold wet towels and a lot of shaking to wake him up. His eyes still had a whiskey glassiness and he didn't know what we wanted at all. He was unintelligible for another thirty minutes, then little by little he began to come around, his face going through a succession of emotions. Until he saw Bayliss he seemed scared, but one look at the old man and he tried on a drunken grin, gagged and went into a spasm of dry heaves. Luckily, there was nothing in his stomach, so we didn't have to go through that kind of mess.

Hy brought in a glass of water and I made him sip at it. I said, 'What's your name, feller?'

He hiccoughed. 'You--cops?'

'No, a friend.'

'Oh.' His head wobbled, then he looked back to me again. 'You play chess?'

'Sorry, Red, but I had a friend who could. Richie Cole.'

Markham squinted and nodded solemnly, remembering. 'He--pretty damn good. Yessir. Good guy.'

I asked him, 'Did you know about the girl on the ship?'

Very slowly, he scowled, his lips pursing out, then a bit of clarity returned to him and he leered with a drunken grimace. 'Sure. Hell of--joke.' He hiccoughed and grinned again. 'Joke. Hid--her in--down in--hold.'

We were getting close now. His eyes drooped sleepily and I wanted him to hang on. I said, 'Where is she now, Red?'

He just looked at me foggily.

'Damn it, think about it!'

For a second he didn't like the way I yelled or my hand on his arm and he was about to balk, then Bayliss said, 'Come on, Red, if you know where she is, tell us.'

You'd think he was seeing Bayliss for the first time. 'Pepper,' he said happily, his eyes coming open.

'Come on, Red. The girl on the Vanessa. Richie's girl.'

'Sure. Big--joke. You know?'

'We know, but tell us where she is.'

His shrug was the elaborate gesture of the sodden drunk. 'Dunno. I--got her--on deck.'

Bayliss looked at me, not knowing where to go. It was all over his head and he was taking the lead from me. Then he got the pitch and shook Red's shoulder. 'Is she on shore?'

Red chuckled and his head weaved. 'On--shore. Sure--on shore.' He laughed again, the picture coming back to his mind. 'Dennis--Wallace packed her--in crate. Very funny.'

I pushed Bayliss away and sat on the edge of the cot. 'It sure was a good joke all right. Now where did the crate go?'

'Crate?'

'She was packed in the crate. This Dennis Wallace packed her in the crate, right?'

'Right!' he said assuredly, slobbering on himself.

'Then who got the crate?'

'Big joke.'

'I know, now let us in on it. Who got the crate?'

He made another one of those shrugs. 'I--dunno.'

'Somebody picked it up,' I reminded him.

Red's smile was real foolish, that of the drunk trying to be secretive. 'Richie's--joke. He called--a friend. Dennis gave him--the crate.' He laughed again. 'Very funny.'

Hy said, 'Cute.'

I nodded. 'Yeah. Now we have to find this Dennis guy.'

'He's got a place not far from here,' Bayliss said.

'You know everybody?'

'I've been around a long time, Mike.'

We went to leave Red Markham sitting there, but before we could reach the door he called out, 'Hey, you.'

Bayliss said, 'What, Red?'

'How come--everybody wants--old Dennis?'

'I don't--'