Bonded dead, p.3
Bonded Dead, page 3
I always get them. I decided to shut this one off. “Do you have any sexy twelve-year-olds?” I asked.
He took a startled look at me in the mirror. “What kind of guy are you?”
“Just an all-American boy,” I said. “By the way, is this conversation free or do you charge extra for it?”
He got a wounded look on his face and shut up. We drove the rest of the way to Collins Avenue in beautiful silence. I went into the hotel and registered and was taken up to my room. It was a big, L-shaped room with a wide balcony overlooking the ocean. I unpacked my things and went back downstairs. It was still a little early to call the man I wanted to see, so I went into the small cocktail room just off the elevators.
It had a small circular bar. In the center of it, above the bottles, there was a mechanical hula girl whose hips worked endlessly, inspired by raw electricity. I saw the bartender was one I knew. I went over and sat on a stool.
The bartender hadn’t spotted me yet, and he came over without really looking at me.
“Hello, Buck,” I said.
Then he really looked at me. “Milo,” he said. “When did you get in?”
“About ten minutes ago. How is everything?”
“You know. The same old thing. Everything in this town is booze, broads and bull. What’ll you have?”
“A martini, I guess. It’s breakfast time.”
He mixed one and poured it. He looked around. “Don’t tell anybody, but it’s on the house. How have you been?”
“All right, I think. I never know until I find out that I’ve made it into the next day. And you?”
He shrugged. “The same old grind. You know how it is.” His face brightened. “Say, we got a bunch of nice looking broads here right now. Mostly school teachers, I think. I’ll introduce you to some if you’re here around cocktail hour. I’m working a double shift today. One of the boys called in sick.”
“I’ll take your offer under consideration,” I said gravely.
I had the martini while I cut up old touches with Buck, then went into one of the restaurants and had breakfast. After that, I phoned the Miami Beach police and asked for Lieutenant Wayne Dillman.
“Wayne,” I said when he answered, “this is Milo March.”
“Milo! When did you get in town?”
“About an hour ago.”
“On a case?”
“Yeah. I thought you might be able to give me some information or steer me to someone who can.”
“What’s the case?”
“Well, it involves the girl you found in the Everglades.”
“That’s a dandy,” he said. “I’m working on it. Come on down any time you want to. I’m only doing paper work this morning.”
“I’ll be right down,” I said and hung up.
I took a taxi down to the police building and went up to his office. I opened the door and looked in. He was sitting at his desk, which was covered with papers. He looked up, then got to his feet with a big smile on his face. “Milo,” he said, “come in.”
I went in and closed the door behind me. We shook hands.
“Good to see you again,” he said. “Sit down. How have you been?”
“Fine, I guess. I’ve also been pretty busy.”
“That should keep you out of trouble. How come you’re working on this case?”
“My company carried the insurance on the bonds and securities that were stolen. A million and a half.”
“That’s a nice piece of change. What are you supposed to do? Get the bonds back?”
“I’m supposed to try. And to try to find out how it worked. Got anything on the case?”
“Not very much,” he admitted. “When the case first broke in New York, we got flyers on the two girls from there. We checked around without finding any trace of the girls, so we more or less figured they’d gone in some other direction. Then we pulled the dead girl out of the Everglades. She’d been choked to death. The only ID on her was a Florida driver’s license made out to Loraine Wilks. The address was the Coral Arms Hotel up on Collins.”
“Was she carrying any money?”
“Yeah. Sixty cents. We checked the hotel and she’d been living there for about a month. When she registered she’d given a home address in Pennsylvania. We checked there and they’d never heard of her. In the meantime, the boys in the lab were checking the fingerprints. They came up with the discovery that she was really Wilma Leeds from New York City.”
“Nobody spotted her from the photograph in the flyer?”
“No. I’ll show you why.” He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a photograph. He tossed it in front of me. “That’s a picture of her in the morgue. Would you spot her?”
I looked at the photograph. Then I reached in my pocket and brought out the flyers. I placed the two pictures of Wilma Leeds side by side and looked at them. No one would have recognized them as being of the same woman. The hair-do was different, so were the eyebrows and the lips.
“Did you ever stop to think,” I asked, “how much trouble we’ll be in if men all start shaping their eyebrows and wearing makeup?”
“I’ve had a few nightmares about it,” he said, laughing. “But now you know why we didn’t make her until we got to the prints.”
“What about the other girl?”
“No sign of her. Of course, she may be in another city. Or she’s also changed her looks and we can’t go around fingerprinting everyone.”
“Any suspects on the murder of the Leeds woman?” He sighed heavily. “Oh, we got suspects all right. Two of them, but we can’t do anything about them.”
“Why not?”
“They both have an ironclad alibi.”
“Who are they?”
“Jack Daly,” he said, “who’s usually called Jack the Dipper, and Bobby Dixon, a friend of his. You’ve probably heard of Daly. He’s had considerable publicity. He’s a beach boy. He’s been in and out of more police stations than you could count. Served one term of eighteen months. Dixon is just about the same story. They specialize in robbing women. Mostly jewelry, but they’ll take anything that will bring a buck. Both are good-looking guys and what most people would call swingers. So there’s usually an endless supply of women, especially among the older ones. We know that Daly was with the Leeds woman several times.”
“So what’s their alibi?”
“They both spent the night,” he said drily, “playing cards with Angelo Bacci at Bacci’s home.”
“Bacci?” I said. “I know that name from somewhere. Isn’t he a hood?”
“That’s pretty accurate, but I expect Angelo would object to the term. He is now a very affluent hood. He’s been arrested a lot of times on almost every charge you can think of, but he’s only had two convictions. One was for possession of a gun when he was nineteen. And one conviction in Nevada. He did a year on that.”
“That’s where I know him from. I helped to send him up. Syndicate.”
“You know it and I know it, but try to prove it. They don’t carry membership cards.”
“That’s very interesting,” I said thoughtfully. “From what I’ve been able to learn, the only way anyone could dispose of these securities would be to sell them to someone in the Syndicate. They must have sold them to Bacci. Then he gave them an alibi. But I don’t get one thing.” “What?”
“How do you know exactly what night she was murdered? She was in the swamp several days, wasn’t she?” “She was. But we had only two rainstorms during that week. One was early one morning and the second was just about twenty-four hours later. In between the rains, someone pulled a car off the highway right where the Leeds woman was carried into the swamp and dumped her. If it hadn’t been for the second rain, we could have gotten the tread marks, but they were smoothed out. No one would try to pull a murder there during the day. Too much traffic. So it had to be that second night before it started to rain.”
I nodded. “Makes sense. Did you check the suspects’ car or cars?”
“Yes. A blank. Daly has a new sports car, which had been washed one or two days after the murder. Dixon has a car about a year old, but it hadn’t been out of the garage in a week.”
“Where do they live?”
“As you cross over from Miami Beach to Miami there is a string of apartment houses on the left. They live in one of those. I’ll write down the address for you.” He pulled over a pad and wrote on it, then shoved it over to me. I glanced at it and put it in my pocket.
“Anything else?” I asked.
“Not yet, but we’re still working on it. I still think that Daly is the best bet, but I just don’t have enough to pull him in.”
“Sounds like all the cases, doesn’t it?” I said with a smile. I stood up. “I know you’re busy, so I won’t take up any more of your time. Thanks, Wayne.”
“Glad to help, Milo.” He glanced up at me. “You will cooperate, won’t you?”
“I always do, don’t I?”
He laughed. “You always do, but sometimes not until the case is finished. All right, Milo, keep in touch.”
“Will do.” I picked up the picture and left the building. Outside, in the parking lot, I stopped to think for a minute. I did have a couple of leads, but there wasn’t any evidence to throw at them. It looked as if the only way to move was to start pushing. I found the nearest phone booth and called a taxi.
When the cab arrived, I got in and gave the driver the address the lieutenant had handed me. When we arrived there, I told the driver to wait and went to the apartment. I rang the bell.
The door opened. The man who stood there wore only bathing trunks. He was tall and well muscled, his body a deep tan. It was easy to guess which one he was.
“Mr. Daly?” I asked.
“Yes. Who are you?” His voice was a flat baritone without expression.
“My name is Milo March. I work for the Intercontinental Insurance Company. Could I come in and talk to you for a minute?”
“I don’t want to buy any insurance.”
“I don’t sell insurance,” I said.
He had started to close the door, but he stopped and looked at me more closely. “What do you do?” he asked. His voice was harder than it had been before.
“I talk to people and ask questions—among other things.”
He stepped back and held the door open. I walked into the living room. It was well furnished, but I could imagine that there were probably several hundred apartments furnished exactly like it.
“Sit down,” he said. I took the nearest chair. He remained standing, looking down at me. “What do you want?”
“Information.”
“Another lousy cop?”
“No, I’m not a cop. I’m an insurance investigator.” I lit a cigarette. “I’m interested in some bonds and securities that vanished from New York City about a month ago. Two girls vanished with them. One of the girls was found here a week ago. She was dead. I think you knew Wilma Leeds, who used the name Loraine Wilks down here.”
He smiled but there was no warmth in it. “So you’re still a lousy cop. Yeah, I knew Loraine. I took her out two or three times. She was an easy lay. But I don’t know anything about bonds and securities. And I don’t know anything about her death. I already told all that to the local fuzz.”
“Yeah, I know. But you still have a problem, don’t you?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“The other girl. You have to find her, don’t you, Jack? As long as she’s alive, she can testify against you.”
His face darkened with anger. “Take a hike. If there’s anything I can’t stand it’s a nosy cop hanging around. And don’t come back. The next time I may throw you out.”
“It doesn’t cost anything to try,” I said. I got up and walked to the door. I stopped and looked back at him. “Maybe I should ask your friend about bonds and securities. Angelo Bacci. He ought to know.”
I could tell by the expression on his face that I’d made a score. I opened the door and stepped outside, closing it gently behind me. I went down to the taxi and we drove back to the hotel.
Up in my room, I sat on the bed and thought about my visit. I’d dropped a couple of things. Once they hit the fan there should be plenty of action. That was the way I wanted it. Force them to make the moves and they were almost certain to make a few mistakes.
I checked through the papers in my wallet. My Florida gun permit was still good. I got up and removed my jacket. I got the gun and holster from my suitcase and slipped into the shoulder harness. I checked out the gun and slipped it into the holster. Then I put the jacket on. I put the two flyers and the photograph on the dresser and went downstairs. I had lunch out on the patio, then went into the bar. There were four or five people there, but I went to a spot some distance from them and ordered a brandy from Buck.
“A busy day?” I asked him when he brought it. “About like this,” he said. “Most people are out on the beach or still recovering from last night. It’ll start getting busy around four. I guess you’ve been working.”
“Yeah.”
“What is it this time?” he asked.
“A little more than a million dollars and a dead broad.”
He looked interested. “You mean the broad they pulled out of the swamp a week ago?”
“That’s the one. Did you know her?”
He shook his head. “Only what I read in the papers after they found her. I think she stayed some place up the avenue.”
“Do you know a guy named Jack Daly?”
“You mean Jack the Dipper?”
“That’s the one.”
There was a look of disgust on his face. “I know him. He used to be a beach boy around here. Worked at four or five hotels. He was a good-looking kid and he’d play up to the older women. He’d hold hands with them, give them a free feel, stuff like that until he got a chance to dip into their purses. That’s how he got his name. Jack the Dipper. He was also a kind of half-assed pimp. I saw in the paper that he was back in town.”
“He’s back all right. Have you seen him?”
“He ain’t been around here. I wouldn’t serve him if he came. You got to do something to protect the customers. He’s mixed up in your case, huh?”
“I think so. He and a friend of his named Dixon.”
“I don’t know him, but I seem to remember that the
two of them were arrested together on some case about a year ago.”
“How about Angelo Bacci?” I asked. “Know him?” “I don’t know him. I don’t get around in those rarified circles. But I know about him. He’s supposed to be the number two man in the Cosa Nostra in Florida. Whatever he is, it must pay pretty well.”
“Know where he lives?”
He nodded. “Everybody in Miami Beach knows where he lives. You know that kind of thin island between here and Miami? There are a lot of rich homes on it. He owns one of them. The only way to get to it is by boat. He in it, too?”
“I’m pretty sure he is.”
“Better watch your step, Milo. He’s got a couple of his pet gunmen with him all the time. There’s been a few reported shootings over there at night, but there’s never been any evidence when the cops got there.”
“Does he ever go out on the town?”
“I hear he does. He’s got a broad and he takes her out once in a while. Sometimes she goes out alone. Or almost alone. She’s been in here a few times, but there’s always been one of the gunmen playing nursemaid. I guess he doesn’t trust her.”
“Know her name?”
He shook his head. “The only thing I ever heard her called was Baby, but I guess that ain’t her name.” “What does she look like?”
“Blond. Good looking and really stacked. I’d guess twenty-four or twenty-five. And dumb. But not too dumb to get the mink coats and the ice that goes with them. And there’s something else you should know.”
“What’s that?”
“He’s got a kind of junior partner—according to what I read and hear. A guy named Tony Antonio. I think he lives up around Hollywood. All I know is that their names are always linked together.”
“Anything else you can think of?”
“Not that I remember. But they’re tough boys. I hope you’re prepared.”
“I am.” I patted my coat beneath my left arm. “When it’s raining I always wear my raincoat.”
“Good,” he said. Then a worried look came over his face. “But I hope you’ve got a franchise for that thing. The hotel might take a dim view of it if you were picked up here because of it.”
I laughed. “I’ve got the paper.”
Somebody on the other side wanted a drink and Buck went off to serve him. He’d just finished when my name was called over the loudspeaker. Buck motioned to a phone that was across the room. I walked over and picked up the receiver and said hello.
She laughed. “I knew you’d be in the bar, so I told them to page you there. This is Annette Rawson. Remember me?”
“How could I forget such a groovy stewardess? I’d decided that you weren’t going to call.”
“I’m flying out again tomorrow,” she said, “so I thought I’d call and collect that martini.”
“The first thing I did,” I said gravely, “was to order a martini for you. By this time the ice has melted three or four times, so I guess I’d better throw it out and order you a fresh one. And I have an improvement on the plan.” “What?”
“After the martini or martinis, why don’t we have dinner together?”
She hesitated a second. “I’d like that as long as you understand that I have to be home early because I have to get up at the crack of dawn. I’m working a morning flight out of here.”
“I won’t like it but I’ll accept it. You want me to pick you up or do you want to meet me?”
“I’ll meet you.”
“What time?”
“About eight?” she asked.
“I have a good idea,” I said. “There is a huge balcony outside of my room which overlooks the ocean. Why don’t you meet me here, we’ll have appetizers and martinis on the balcony and then go to dinner wherever you’d like.”
She hesitated and then said, “All right. I guess a girl ought to be safe on an open balcony.”
