CHAPTER TEN
COLD fear gripped Jacqueline as she watched Calamity leave the room with Cope. Despite the hectic and violent nature of their first meeting, a strong liking had developed between the girls during the afternoon and evening, and the dancer did not want anything to happen to her new friend. Something about Cope scared Jacqueline. It might have been Cope’s moody manner, the way he stared at Calamity, or how his smile never reached his eyes. Jacqueline’s every instinct warned her that Cope did not go with Calamity for the usual reasons.
Glancing around the room, Jacqueline suddenly became aware that, due to the coming and going of the customers, none of the escort had seen Calamity and Cope leave and did not know that they should be following the couple.
In later years such decoy work would be organised and mistakes avoided by careful planning. But this was probably the first time any police department employed such tactics to trap a criminal, so, having no precedent to guide them, they made mistakes. If the man with Calamity should be the Strangler, the poor positioning of the escort might cost her dearly.
Rising, Jacqueline started across the room in the direction of Redon who stood at the bar. The stocky detective glanced at Jacqueline, then towards Calamity’s empty chair. A look of shocked concern came to his face, and he moved forward meaning to contact Jacqueline in the manner of a customer meeting one of the street-girls. From their places around the room, the other members of the escort read the signs and headed for the door.
A hand caught Jacqueline’s arm as she walked towards Redon. Swinging around, and trying to pull herself free, she found herself facing a tall, burly riverboat man.
“Hey there, honey-chile,” greeted the man. “How’s about you ‘n’ me having a few lil drinks, then going to your place?”
“I—I’ve already got a man,” she replied.
“Forget him—,” the man began.
“She doesn’t want to forget him,” a voice cut in from the side, “so just take your cotton-picking hands offen her.”
Redon did not want trouble, but he could not leave Jacqueline in such a position and the girl might know where Calamity and the sailor were headed. So the detective cut in and one glance told him the riverboat man did not like the interruption one little bit.
A grin creased the burly man’s face as he studied Redon’s clothes and appearance. All the man saw was a typical tinhorn gambler and not a big one at that. He certainly did not intend to surrender the girl to such a man without the other put up a right convincing argument. Reaching out, the riverboat man laid the palm of his big hand on Redon’s fancy vest, meaning to thrust the detective aside.
There was no time to argue with the man. Every second wasted put Calamity’s life into greater danger. So Redon knew he must act and act fast. Also that he must finish the bigly man first go; and he knew how tough a riverboat worker could be. Such a man needed firm handling and stern measures if he was to be stopped without a hell of a fight.
Fortunately, despite his comparative lack of inches, Redon was a very tough lawman and knew a thing or three about the noble art hand-to-hand combat.
Up came Redon’s hands, the left securing the man’s wrist from the underside, the right slapping on to the man’s fingers and pressing them against the fancy gambler’s vest. When Redon bent forward at the hips, pain and the danger of broken bones brought the other man to his knees. Releasing his hold, Redon stepped back fast and lashed up his left foot, the toe catching the man full under his jaw. Back snapped the man’s head and he sprawled to the floor, limp and unmoving.
“Some folks just don’t know when to get tough!” Redon growled, looking around him and waiting for the unconscious man’s friends to make a move.
However, the entire business happened so quickly that few if any of the crowd, appeared to realise what had been done. Redon did not give them a chance to find out, but took Jacqueline’s arm and headed across the room.
“Calam’s gone out with a man!” Jacqueline gasped as they hurried between the tables. “Raoul, I think he’s the Stran—.”
“Keep your voice down, Jackie!” the detective interrupted. “We don’t want everybody to know.”
Normally the owner of the saloon would have objected to a stranger mishandling a good customer, especially when the stranger only bought a couple of beers at the bar. However, the police warning about no trouble caused the man to hold his hand especially as the stranger was leaving, and looked like he might take violent objection to any attempt at showing him the error of his ways.
On the street Jacqueline and Redon came to a halt and looked around them. They could see no sign of Calamity and Cope among the crowd using the sidewalk. The remainder of the escort loomed up around Redon and the girl, all showing concern at their failure to adequately cover Calamity.
“He’s killed the others in the Park,” one man whispered, trying to avoid attracting attention to them.
“Could get to the Park several ways from here,” Redon replied. “Split up, take a different way each. Jackie and I’ll go down the street. I hope to God we’re in time.”
“Hurry, Raoul!” Jacqueline gasped, trying to increase her speed as they left the other members of the party. “We must run—.”
“No, Jackie!” Redon answered.
For all the urgency of the situation, Redon knew he dare not run along the street. He had no wish to draw attention to himself and running would cause folks to take notice, might even invite pursuit. If the man with Calamity should be the Strangler, and they captured him, Redon did not want the people of the Latour Street district to know of it. Some of the folk in that area either knew or suspected that a missing friend must be a Strangler victim, even if they would not help the police by identifying the bodies, and would have no mercy on the killer. Should word get out that the Strangler had been captured, Redon doubted if he and his men would take in a living prisoner.
Explaining his reasons for not running, Redon held Jacqueline to a steady walk until they left Latour Street and came towards the entrance to City Park. Sick with worry for her friend’s safety, Jacqueline stared ahead along the shadowy paths and wondered if they would be in time to prevent Calamity’s death.
Calamity allowed the man to steer her along a path through the Park, trying to catch the sound of her escort’s footsteps. Nothing but the normal night noises came to her ears, however, as yet she did not worry for she knew the men would not chance coming too close in case they scared off Cope before he made a move.
“Look, friend,” she said, realising she ought to do something. “If you’re after a free—.”
“I’m only after one thing, Mavis,” Cope answered.
“Mavis?” Calamity gasped. “Who is she?”
The grip on her arm tightened and Cope’s breath came heavier he snarled, “Don’t try to fool me, Mavis. I recognised you as soon as I came into that place. That big hat, the blonde hair.”
Suddenly the man swung Calamity around before him. Hatred and worse glowed on his face, and his hands rose towards her throat. Calamity hesitated a vital instant too long. Nothing had ever frightened her so much as did the sight of the man’s face. Before she could take positive action, or even scream, the man’s fingers clamped on her throat, the thumbs digging into the sides of her adam’s apple and cutting off her breath. Panic hit Calamity for a moment as her hands grabbed instinctively at the man’s wrists. Her head seemed to be filled with a roaring and throbbing and all she could see was that hideous, twisted, hate-filled mask of a face before her eyes.
Then Calamity regained control of herself. Something screamed a warning to her senses and she knew she must break the hold on her throat. She wasted no time in wondering where the escort might be. All her life Calamity had been self-reliant and that factor saved her life.
Discarding the futile pulling at the man’s wrists, for his arms were too strong for her to drag them off by brute force, Calamity prepared to defend herself with a trick Killem taught her.
“You cheap whore, Mavis!” Cope was yelling and Calamity realised he must have been shouting all the time. “You led my wife astray. Now you’re going to—.”
At which point Calamity acted in her defence. Simultaneously she launched a kick against his shin and placed the palms of her hands on his elbows. For the first time in her life Calamity blessed wearing women’s shoes instead of her comfortable moccasins. All that evening she had cursed the shoes which made her unaccustomed feet ache, but at that moment the shoes saved her. A kick delivered when wearing her moccasins would not have hurt anywhere near as much as did those reviled city shoes.
Pain caused Cope to relax his hold slightly, but it proved to be enough. Desperation added strength to Calamity’s naturally strong arms. The sudden, unexpected attack on his shin caused Cope to loosen his grip on Calamity’s throat and before he could tighten the fingers again, the girl’s hands shoved inwards on his elbows. Cope’s hands slipped from Calamity’s throat and she thrust him backwards a couple of steps. Sucking in air, Calamity stumbled away from Cope. Before she could start to scream for help, as St. Andre warned her to do, Calamity saw Cope leaping at her, his hands reaching towards her throat, that same mad glare in his eyes.
Footsteps pounded on the path behind Cope. Even in his crazy rage, the sound rang a warning note in the man’s head. Glancing over his shoulder, Cope saw a man in gambler’s clothes and a slim, flashily-dressed girl running towards him. Gasping for breath, Calamity caught her balance and came forward, whipping around her right fist. Cope turned full into the blow, it caught him on the side of the jaw, coming with Calamity’s weight behind it.
Staggering backwards under the impact of the blow, Cope clawed up a hand towards his jacket pocket. Redon sprang forward, the short leather-wrapped, lead-weighted police billie he had drawn on entering the park rose in his right hand and came down. Having seen the man reaching for a pocket and possibly a weapon, Redon took no chances. The billie landed on Cope’s head and the sailor’s hat gave him no protection. With a low moan, Cope crumpled and went down in a limp pile.
Hurdling the fallen body, Redon caught Calamity by the arms as the girl stood swaying.
“Are you all right, Calam?” he asked.
“Sure,” replied Calamity—and fainted for the first time in her life.
Redon lowered the girl to the ground. Jacqueline arrived and shoved by the detective to drop at Calamity’s side. Gently the dancer raised Calamity’s head and rested it on her knees.
“Is she—!” Jacqueline gasped.
“Just a swoon,” Redon replied. “She’ll be all right in a couple of minutes.”
Leaving Jacqueline to tend to Calamity, Redon drew the Bean Giant handcuffs from the inside pocket of his jacket. Even as he bent down to clip the irons on the unconscious sailor’s wrists, he heard feet thudding on a path, coming towards him. Looking up, he saw a burly shape approaching and relief hit him as he recognised the newcomer as another member of the escort.
“Heard him yelling,” the newcomer announced. “See you— God! He hasn’t—.”
“No. She’s just fainted.”
Voices swirled through the mists which clouded Calamity’s head, distant yet clear although she could not make any sense of the words.
“Is she all right?” asked one.
“She’d best be,” came another. “If anything happened to her, St. Andre’d have my badge at the least.”
Shaking her head to clear it, Calamity tried to force herself into a sitting position. Hands gripped her shoulders and held her down. For a moment panic hit her as memory flooded back. Grabbing up, she gripped the wrists of the hands which held her. Then she saw a face above her. A pale, scared face, but not he hate-crazed features of the sailor.
“You—You’re hurting, Calam!” Jacqueline gasped.
Only with an effort could Calamity open her fingers. She realised that she lay on her back, her head resting on Jacqueline’s knees. Beyond Jacqueline stood Redon and another of the policemen—and to one side, stretched out upon the ground with his wrists secured by handcuffs, even though he would not be going anywhere for a spell, lay Cope.
Calamity stiffened, then fought down a momentary panic and hint of hysteria as she looked at the man and remembered his hate-filled face with the mad eyes glaring at her. Determined not to go ‘woman’, have hysterics in front of her friends, Calamity fought for and gained control of herself.
“I’m sorry, Jackie,” she said and raised a hand to touch her throat.
Stepping forward, Redon helped Calamity to her feet, keeping a hand on her arm and steadying her. Something of the old Calamity grin came to her face as she watched Jacqueline rise and saw the worried expressions on the two policemen’s faces.
“Danged if that coloured water we’ve been drinking wasn’t stronger’n I thought,” she said. “It’s sure rough on a lil country gal like me, that’s not used to drinking it.”
“It sure is,” grinned the second policeman. “Why, anybody’d think you’d fainted had they seen you.”
More feet approached, but again it proved to be friends who arrived. Redon nodded to the remainder of the escort as they came up.
“You got him!” one said.
“Yeah. Did the noise attract any attention?”
“None as we noticed, Raoul,” the other policeman replied and glanced at the groaning man on the ground. “Did he say anything, Calam?”
“Let us not stand discussing it,” Redon put in before Calamity could reply. “Let’s get this feller to the station house. If folks hear we’ve nailed the Strangler, we’ll have bad trouble on our hands. Feelings are high about him.”
“You’re right about that,” Calamity agreed. “I saw a lynch mob one time in Butte. It grew from nothing to—well, I don’t never want to see another.”
She did not mention that the lynching was prevented by prompt action taken by a bunch of really efficient lawmen, but doubted if the New Orleans police would have the equipment or ability to halt a mob. Sure St. Andre and his boys were tough and real handy in their own way, but it took gun-skill to handle a mob filled with hate and the desire to shed the blood of a killer.
“Are you sure he didn’t hurt you, Calam?” asked Jacqueline gently.