1953 - I'll Bury My Dead (20 page)

II

L
ois Marshall was just finishing dictating a batch of cables to her stenographer when Ed Leon pushed open the office door and came in.

He lifted his hat.

‘Mr. English around?’

‘Yes, he's expecting you,’ Lois told him. ‘Would you sit down for a moment? Mr. Crail’s not here yet.’

Leon lowered his long frame into an easy chair and groped for a pack of Camels.

He watched Lois work for a few minutes, and then when the stenographer had gone, he said, ‘Aren’t you scared of getting an ulcer? The way you work is asking for ulcers.’

Lois laughed.

‘I haven’t got one yet,’ she laughed lightly. ‘Work agrees with me.’

‘Yeah, I’ve heard people talk like that before, and where do they wind up?’ Leon said gloomily. ‘I’m worked too hard myself. It’s a conspiracy to get me a wooden overcoat. Look at the time. Who but English would start working at nine-thirty in the morning?’

The door opened and Crail came in. His freshly shaven face was thoughtful as he nodded to Lois and waved a plump hand at Leon.

‘You look as if you’ve had a pretty good breakfast,’ Leon said enviously. ‘Or is that bulge under your vest just part of your scenery?’

Crail ran his hand over his paunch and smiled smugly.

‘It’s part of my good will,’ he returned. ‘If I had a frame like yours I’d go out of business. No one trusts a thin man these days.’ He looked over at Lois. ‘Mr. English ready for me?’

‘I think so,’ Lois said, picking up the telephone. ‘Mr. Crail and Mr. Leon are waiting, Mr. English,’ she said, then she nodded at the two men. ‘Will you go in, please?’

Leon levered himself out of his chair and followed Crail into English’s office.

English was sitting at his desk. Harry Vince was crossing the room to the door, a pile of papers in his hand. Harry nodded to Crail, looked sharply at Leon and went out.

‘Who’s that guy?’ Leon asked, dropping into a chair.

‘Don’t you know Harry?’ English said. ‘He’s my general manager, and a damned fine one at that.’

‘What’s new, Nick?’ Crail asked, sitting down. ‘I can’t stay long. I’m in court at ten-thirty.’

English reached for a cigar, pushed the box toward Crail, raised his eyebrows at Leon who shook his head.

‘I’ve found the guy who murdered Roy,’ he said quietly.

‘You have?’ Crail sat up. ‘Well, for God’s sake! That’s fast work.’

English nodded over to Leon.

‘He may not look it, but he happens to be a fast worker. Sherman?’ Leon asked.

‘Yes.’

English went on to tell them of the conversation he had had with Sherman the previous night.

‘Four murders?’ Crail said, his eyes opening. ‘He admitted them?’

‘He didn’t deny them,’ English returned.

‘Well, I’ll be damned! I’d like to see the D.A.’s face when you tell him,’ Crail said, and rubbed his hands together. ‘He hasn’t even connected the four killings with the same killer.’

‘I’m not telling the D.A.,’ English said, paused to light his cigar, and as he waved out the match, he went on, ‘It’s up to him to find the killer. I’m not anxious to tell the world my brother was a blackmailer. If I talk to the D.A. the story will come out. I’ve given Sherman until Saturday to get out of town.’

Crail looked quickly at Leon, who stared back at him with an expression of complete indifference.

‘You can’t do it, Nick,’ Crail said sharply. ‘It’ll make you an accessory after the fact. Damn it! It would make me an accessory, too.’

‘That’s one of the drawbacks of working for me,’ English said and smiled. ‘You’re all right, Sam. No one but Ed and I know you know.’

‘Do you think Sherman will go?’ Leon broke in.

‘He’d be a fool if he didn’t. I hold all the cards. He didn’t strike me as a fool. But I want you to take care of him, Ed. Sit on his tail, don’t lose him for a second. Get someone to help you if necessary, but I want him under your eye day and night until he leaves town on Saturday.’

Leon nodded.

‘I’ll take care of him.’

‘You don’t mean to tell me you’re going to let him get away with four murders?’ Crail said, horrified.

‘He’s already got away with them,’ English returned, tapping ash into the ashtray. ‘I haven’t any evidence that’d stand up in court. If he double-crosses me, I’ll manufacture some evidence, but not until.’

‘What do you mean - manufacture evidence?’ Crail asked, his eyebrows climbing.

‘I’ll explain that when and if I have to,’ English said. ‘If this fellow double-crosses me, he’s going to the chair, and you and I are putting him in the chair.’

‘That’ll be something for you to dream about,’ Leon said to Crail and grinned. ‘What do you make of Sherman?’ he went on to English.

‘I’d say he was crazy,’ English said soberly. ‘I mean that. He’s about as dangerous as a rattlesnake. There’s a chance he’ll try to pull a fast one. He might even arrange for me to be his fifth victim. I’ve put into writing the whole of our conversation, and I have it here.’ He slid an envelope across the desk. ‘I want you to take care of this, Sam. If anything should happen to me, give it to Morilli.’

Crail looked startled.

‘You’re not serious, are you?’

‘Sherman’s killed four people within a week. I’ve threatened to send him to the chair if he doesn’t leave town by Saturday night. If he leaves town he gives up a lucrative blackmailing business. I can’t imagine he’ll give it up without a fight. I’m very serious, Sam. I’ve told Chuck to carry a gun, and not let me out of his sight for a moment.’

‘Any news of the man with the scar?’ Leon asked.

‘No. I guess he got away. I’ve talked to Morilli. I told him May Mitchell once worked for me. That gave me the excuse to inquire about her murder. Your taxi driver didn’t wait to be questioned. Morilli knows nothing about him. All he does know is the girl was knifed, a policeman was shot to death and a fat man was found dead in the street. He’s trying to make something out of it, but he isn’t getting very far. Two men have given him a bad description of you. They claim to have tried to hold you until the police arrived, but you got away. Morilli thinks you’re responsible for the three killings.’

Leon sighed.

‘That’s what comes of working for you, Nick,’ he said gloomily. ‘Well, I can take it so long as Morilli doesn’t recognize me. If he does, you’ll have to do some fast talking.’

‘He won’t recognize you,’ English said with a sudden boyish smile. ‘These two men said you were handsome. Morilli isn’t a miracle worker.’

‘Can I help it if my face frightens people?’ Leon said grimacing. ‘Come to think of it, it even frightens me.’

Crail gave an impatient grunt.

‘I’ve got to get going,’ Nick, he said, consulting his watch. ‘Was there anything else you wanted to tell me?’

‘What a glutton the man is!’ Leon said. ‘Aren’t four murders enough for one morning?’

‘There’s nothing else,’ English said. ‘But be prepared to swing into action any moment, Sam. If Sherman tries anything funny, I mean to send him to the chair.’

Crail shook his head as he got to his feet.

‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,’ he said. ‘By the way, how about the committee meeting?’

English smiled.

‘I had it postponed.’

‘You’re playing this wrong, Nick,’ Crail said seriously. ‘It’s dangerous to kick the committee around. Rees hates your guts, and don’t forget, he’s a particular pal of the D.A.’s and the police commissioner. You re frightening me to death,’ English said with a contemptuous smile.

‘So long, Sam.’

Crail shrugged, nodded to Leon and left the office.

‘Who’s Rees?’ Leon asked casually, lighting another cigarette.

‘He’s the chairman of the City Planning Commission. He’s also a judge.’

‘Could he make things hot for you?’

‘So long as I don’t step out of turn, there’s nothing he can do, and I’m taking damn good care I don’t step out of turn.’

‘You’re already doing it,’ Leon pointed out. ‘You’re covering up four murders. Couldn’t Rees nail you for that?’

‘He could if he knew about them, but he doesn’t know about them.’ English stubbed out his cigar and glanced at his watch. ‘Well, I’ve got work to do, Ed. Will you get after Sherman? From now on until Saturday, I don’t want him out of your sight. It’s important. Don’t let him give you the slip.’

‘I’ll take care of him,’ Leon said. ‘I know what I meant to tell you. I tracked down those mike wires in Roy’s office. They lead into an office on the same floor, owned by a silhouette artist. A woman named Gloria Windsor.’

‘Think she's one of the gang?’ English asked, not particularly interested.

‘Must be. It’s my guess she fingered Roy. She must have heard Roy and the Savitt girl planning to pull out. Those two must have made their plans in the office, not knowing the mike was in the chimney to pick up every word they said. You can bet that was how Sherman found out Roy was cheating on him.’

‘Well, it’s done now,’ English said, shrugging. ‘I’m content to get rid of Sherman. When he’s gone the rest of them will be like a body without a head.’

Leon got to his feet.

‘Let’s hope so. I’ll keep tabs on Sherman. If he looks like starting anything I’ll call you.’

‘Thanks, Ed. So long for now.’

After Leon had gone English immersed himself in the routine paperwork that came to his desk every day. He worked quickly and methodically, his mind concentrated on the work before him.

Lois found him hard at it a few minutes to lunchtime. She came in and put another pile of papers in his In-tray. He glanced up and smiled at her.

‘Did you remember to book a table at the Silver Tower for tonight?’ he asked, tossing his fountain pen on the blotter and leaning back.

‘Yes, for eight-thirty.’

‘Might have known you wouldn’t forget. I don’t believe you’ve ever forgotten anything to do with my business since we hooked up together. That’s quite a record.’

‘That’s what you pay me for,’ Lois said lightly.

‘I guess so,’ English said and frowned, ‘but I bet not many secretaries give the service you do. Let’s see, you’ve been with me for five years, haven’t you?’

Lois smiled.

‘Yes. It’ll be five years exactly on Saturday night.’

‘Is that right? Saturday night? How did you remember that?’

‘I have a good memory for dates. You re lunching with Howe Bernstein at one, Mr. English.’

‘As if I’m likely to forget that one,’ English said and groaned. ‘Saturday, eh?’ he went on. ‘Well, damn it! We should celebrate. We’ve come pretty far in five years, haven’t we, Lois?’

She nodded.

‘When I think of that little office we started in,’ English went on, shaking his head, ‘and that typewriter! You pounding the keys all day and I pounding the sidewalks looking for dough. Thank the stars that’s over and done with. I bet you’re glad you have that office out there, and the electric typewriter, aren’t you?’

‘I guess so,’ Lois said.

He looked up quickly.

‘That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic. Tell you what, I’ll take you out to dinner on Saturday. We’ll celebrate the firm’s birthday! What do you say?’

A faint flush came to Lois’s face. She hesitated, then said quickly, ‘I don’t think I can manage Saturday night, Mr. English. I have a date.’

English studied her, noticing her flush deepen.

‘That’s too bad. All the same, we’re going to the Silver Tower and we’re going to eat the best dinner in town. That’s an order.’

‘It’s a date I can’t break,’ Lois said quietly. ‘Thank you all the same, Mr. English.’

English looked disconcerted, then he laughed, shrugging his shoulders.

‘Okay, Lois, if you can’t put your boyfriend off, you can’t. Well, maybe some other night. I’ll see what I can fix.’

‘It’s nothing to do with a boyfriend,’ Lois exclaimed with a vehemence that startled English. ‘I just happen to be busy that night,’ and she went out of the office, closing the door sharply behind her.

English frowned down at his blotter, puzzled.

‘Well, that takes care of that,’ he said to himself. ‘And Julie says the girl’s in love with me. Well, what do you know? Won’t even accept an invitation to dinner. Is that what Julie calls love?’

Some ten minutes later, he put down his pen and walked over to where his hat and coat were hanging. He was struggling into his coat when a tap came on the door and Julie came in.

‘Why, hello, Julie,’ he said, straightening his coat. ‘What brings you here?’

Julie reached up and gave him a quick kiss.

‘I want some money,’ she said. ‘I’m lunching with Joyce Gibbons, and I’ve come out without my purse.’

‘I wish I could join you,’ English said regretfully, taking out his wallet. ‘Will fifty hold you?’

‘Ample, darling. We’re only going to eat a lettuce. Who are you lunching with?’

‘Bernstein,’ English said, grimacing. ‘He wants me to feature that punk singer of his at the Golden Apple. I’ll be damned if I will, but I want Tesca, and he’s got her under contract. She’s the most fantastic thing on two legs.’

‘If you’ve made up your mind to get her, you’ll get her,’ Julie said, putting the fifty-dollar bill into her handbag. ‘You can drive me downtown if you like.’

‘Where are you lunching?’ English asked, reaching for his hat.

‘The Waldorf.’

‘Right, it’s on my way. Come on then. Let’s get going.’

They walked into the outer office. Harry Vince came in at this moment. He gave Julie a quick, uneasy look, then stood aside.

‘Hello, Harry,’ Julie said gaily. ‘I know what I want you to do for me.’

‘Yes, Julie?’ Harry said stiffly.

His tone made Lois look up sharply. She was sitting at her desk by the window, unnoticed by either Julie or Harry.

‘I want two more tickets for the show. It’s for tonight,’ Julie said. ‘Can you get them for me?’

‘Why, yes,’ Harry said, changing colour.

‘Hey!’ English said with a grin. ‘Don’t ruin me, Julie. I can’t give too many tickets away.’

‘These are for Joyce. I did promise her.’

‘She’s rolling in money. Why the heck can’t she buy them?’

‘Now don’t be a tightwad,’ Julie said, linking her arm in his. ‘You know people expect me to give them tickets for all your shows.’