Bonded dead, p.7
Bonded Dead, page 7
He had slipped the twenty into his pocket. “Boy, can I use this. I put everything I had yesterday on a sure-thing round-robin. Only the second horse started his run too late and lost by a nose. Another ten feet and he would’ve been in.” He paused and then said, “I can tell you the first thing now if you’ll give me. another five bucks.” “Okay.” I took a five from my pocket and passed it to him.
“It’s more like four weeks ago,” he said. “Some guy was here from Chicago. I think he only stayed a couple of days. But he was in the bookie joint one day with two of Bacci’s guns. I didn’t hear his name though. Maybe I can find it out.”
“Try,” I said. “There’s one more thing I’d like you to try to get.”
“What?”
“Anything about that girl who was killed in the Everglades a little more than a week ago.”
“I ... I can’t ask any questions. You understand that. But if I hear anything I’ll let you know.”
“Okay. I’ll drop back to see you in a couple of days. If you want to get in touch with me before that, call the Hapsburg Hotel in Miami Beach and ask for Milo March.” I took a dollar from my pocket and placed it on the bar in front of him. “Have another drink on me. I’ll see you soon.”
He nodded and I left. I told the cab driver to head back for the Beach. We had almost reached it when I remembered something else.
“Driver,” I said, “do you know where there’s a gun store? I want to buy a gun.”
He gave me a startled look in the rear-view mirror.
“Don’t push the panic button,” I told him. “I have a Florida gun permit and I’ll register the gun as soon as I get it.”
He didn’t say anything, but he did drive me straight to a gun store. I showed my permit, gave the salesman my address and told him what I wanted. He brought out several .25 caliber automatics. They aren’t very good except at close range and then only if you can put the bullet where you want it. But they fit other requirements which I had. I picked one out and bought it. I also bought a belt holster for it and some ammunition.
Then I had the driver take me to the police station, where I registered it. Then back to the hotel. Ketcher, the blond gunman, was still parked out front. I managed to get into the side entrance without being spotted by him. I went straight up to my room. After loading the clip, I put it into the automatic and dropped it into a dresser drawer. I decided to push a little more. I addressed three manila envelopes, put a photograph of the dead girl in each one and went downstairs to mail them.
The clerk gave me a telegram. It was a Western Union money order for a thousand dollars from Intercontinental Insurance. I signed it and asked the clerk if he’d cash it and put the money in the safe until I needed it.
“Certainly, Mr. March,” he said. “You had one phone call. From room five-twenty.” That was Betty Carlson’s room. I thanked the clerk and went into the bar. Buck came over.
“Where have you been?” he asked.
“I looked up Speed Harris and your friend Aristotle Murphy.”
“What did you think of him?”
“Quite a character is Aristotle. I made arrangements with him and promised him I’d try to come down for a social evening before I left town. Speed Harris is going to try to get some information for me. Do I have to give a full report before I can get a drink?”
“VO?” he asked.
I nodded and he brought me the drink. “Betty Carlson called to see if you were here.”
“She left a message for me at the desk. I’ll call her in a few minutes.”
I sipped my drink and listened to Buck talk about the various tenants in the hotel. Finally it was one o’clock in the afternoon. I went over to the house phone and called Betty Carlson.”
“Milo March,” I said when she answered. “How do you feel today?”
“I think I’m recovered,” she said with a laugh. “What have you been doing?”
“Working. Dinner tonight?”
“I’d love it.”
“Good. Meet me in the bar about five o’clock.”
“I’ll be there, Milo.”
I said goodbye, and then put in a call to Lieutenant Dillman. He answered right away.
“Milo March," I said.
“Nice of you to call. Did you finally decide to give a little cooperation?”
“I always cooperate. You know that, Wayne. What you were asking for wouldn’t do you any good. Suppose I had said that I thought the bomb was meant for me and that I thought it was part of the case. What could you do with it? Sure, you could ask questions, but you wouldn’t learn enough to make an arrest. In the meantime you’d tip them off to the fact that I am cooperating with you, so they’d be more careful the next time they tried to get me. I don’t want them to be more careful. I want them to be careless.”
“I guess you’re right, Milo. I was just hoping that you had something that would enable us to move in on them.”
“I don’t. I have a lot of ideas which are probably right. I think I’m making progress, but we’re still a long way from arrests, let alone a trial. Do you keep track of out-of-town hoods who visit Miami Beach?”
“We try to. I don’t work on that, but we have a department that does. Why?”
“There was a hood here from Chicago about four weeks ago. He was around for only two days but was seen with those two hoods of Bacci’s. I don’t know his name or who he works for. I’d like to know both things.”
“I’ll check it out.”
“One more thing, Wayne. Check with the phone company and see if Bacci made any phone calls to Chicago just prior to the visit from the hood.”
“I’ll get back to you. Where are you? The hotel?” “Yeah. I’ll wait to hear from you.” I hung up and went back to the bar. “Let me have one more, Buck. Then I’ll have some lunch.”
“Okay.” He went over and reached for the bottle. He stopped and looked at me. “If you’re having lunch, you want the VO or a martini?”
“You’re right, Buck. Let’s have a martini.”
Just as I finished the drink, the operator paged me over the loudspeaker system. I went to the house phone and took the call there.
“Milo,” he said. It was Dillman. “Got it. The Chicago man was Roberto Granetti. He’s a well-known hood in Chicago. Works as a chauffeur and gunman for Angelo Benotti, one of the wheels in the Syndicate there. Want me to check them out with the Chicago police?”
“No need to. I know both of them. What about the phone calls?”
“Angelo Bacci made two phone calls to Chicago about that time. Both were to Benotti. Think I should follow up on that?”
“No,” I said. “There isn’t anything you can do to them, and you won’t learn anything that will let you grab. Besides, I know Benotti and I may be able to find out what I need to know. You, or any other cop, would just louse it up.”
“Thanks a lot,” he said drily. “If the captain wants to know anything, I’ll just tell him I’m waiting to hear from you. Keep in touch, Milo.”
“Will do,” I said, and hung up. I walked out to the patio and took a small table where I had a good view of the pool and the sun bathers. It was a stimulating view.
The waitress came over and 1 ordered another martini.
I also ordered pompano. It’s a local fish and, when cooked right, will make you think you never heard of fish before.
I leaned back and thought about the case. It was interesting that Benotti and Granetti were involved. I did know both of them. And they knew me, but not as Milo March. As Peter Miloff. I had been recalled by the Army to do a job for the CIA. It was to go to Russia to help them plan and build vending machines. The CIA made a deal with Benotti, who’d been asked by the Russians to lend them a vending machine expert. Like all gangsters and hoods, Benotti thought of himself as an American patriot who loved his country. He got in touch with someone in the government.
The CIA talked to Benotti. He easily agreed to help them. The help was to present me as one of his men and to let them hire me, subject to the approval of the State Department. The approval was granted with unseemly haste. Benotti provided me with a background and proof that I worked for him. Roberto Granetti taught me about vending machines. Both of them had been very friendly, even though they knew I was a government agent. Now it might come in handy.
After lunch I went up to my room, undressed and got into bed. I was tense, but I managed to relax enough to go to sleep.
I was awake by four o’clock. I showered and shaved and got dressed. I debated calling Benotti but decided to put it off until the next day. I went down to the bar.
Betty Carlson arrived promptly at five. She looked great. We had a couple of drinks at the bar, and then I suggested that we have dinner in the hotel. I thought she might object, but I was a little afraid to take a girl out now that the pressure was building up. When I suggested it, however, she seemed happy about the idea.
We went into the largest of the five restaurants and the only one with entertainment. We had a couple more drinks there and then ordered dinner. Afterwards we watched the show while having coffee and brandy. Betty was getting a little high, but just enough to be more relaxed.
It was eleven o’clock when the first show was over. “Would you like to go back to the bar?” I asked her. “I know this isn’t a very exciting evening but I’ll make it up to you.”
“Oh, I’m enjoying myself. And I haven’t found anyone to really talk to since I’ve been here. I’d love to talk some more, if it won’t be too dull for you, and I haven’t liked being alone since that terrible explosion last night. Did you hear it?”
“I read about it this morning. I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. What do you want to do?”
“Why don’t we go up to my room and have a couple of drinks and talk? Then I’ll send you home. I don’t want to drink too much tonight. I ought to have at least a couple of days between hangovers.”
“Your room’s in the front of the building, isn’t it?” “Yes.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” I said. “My room is in the back, and there’s a balcony overlooking the ocean. Why don’t we go there, and then you can leave whenever you want to.”
“All right,” she said.
We went up to my room and I led her out to the balcony. “What would you like to drink?” I asked her.
“I think a Tom Collins.”
I went inside and phoned room service. I told them to send up a double Collins in a tall glass and a bucket of ice. Then I opened the closet door so that it would screen me and took off my jacket and hung it up. Then I removed the shoulder holster and put it and the gun up on the shelf. I went into the bathroom and fooled around until I heard the knock on the door. I let the waiter in and signed the check. I carried the drink, the ice and my bottle of VO out to the balcony.
“It’s so beautiful out here,” she said, “that I wish I’d thought of asking for one when I came here.”
“They’ll probably let you exchange rooms. I don’t think they’re that busy this time of year.”
I sat down next to her and we talked. Or, rather, she talked. Not about anything important. She merely sounded lonely. I don’t know how long she kept it up, but then she suddenly stopped in that mysterious way that such things sometimes happen. The next minute she was in my arms. I put my hand on her chin and gently lifted her face and kissed her.
At first, I thought she was going to pull away, then she was pressing her lips to mine and her whole body was trembling. When the kiss ended, I took her hand. We both stood up and I led her inside. She was trembling so badly I had to help her undress. Then I undressed while she stared at me with her big brown eyes. I stretched out beside her and took her in my arms. She came to me with a little sighing noise deep in her throat.
Later, I was lying beside her, my left arm around her shoulders. With my right hand I was stroking her body
gently. My fingers passed down over her flat stomach, then suddenly encountered something that made me stop. I lifted my head and looked.
There, just below her navel, was a crescent-shaped
6
A few minutes passed before it completely soaked in. At first I knew what it was and I didn’t. Then the full realization came to me. It was the scar that was described in the flyer on Jane Carlton, the second of the two girls. I doubted if there were many people with crescent-shaped scars on their bodies. There were probably less who had such a scar in that exact spot. In fact, I would have been willing to bet there were no others.
“Milo,” she said, “is there something wrong?” “Nothing wrong, honey,” I said. “I was just seeing for the first time how beautiful you are.”
“I ... I thought you were looking at my scar.”
“I noticed it but didn’t pay any attention. I think that everyone has scars if you look close enough.”
“I fell on some broken glass when I was a teen-ager. It hurt a lot at the time, but then I forgot about it until I got older.”
“Forget about it. Or think of it as a beauty mark.” I patted the scar. “I’m going to have another drink. Want one?”
“Please.”
I went to the glass door that opened onto the balcony. I looked out but there was nobody on the other balconies. I stepped outside and picked up the bottle, the bucket of ice and the glasses and went back into the room. I put everything down on the night table. “You want the same thing, Betty?”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
I poured two glasses of VO, only mine was on the rocks and I added water to hers. Then I lit two cigarettes and handed one to her. I got into bed and raised my glass.
“You know,” I said, “I think maybe these college kids today have something. Here’s to love.”
“You’re not in love with me,” she said.
“I didn’t say I was, but we just got through making love. I suspect that making love is one of the ways to find one kind of love.”
“I wouldn’t know,” she said, and there was a sad note in her voice.
After that she didn’t seem too interested in talking. I turned on television and we watched a late movie. It was still on when I became aware that she had fallen asleep.
I got up and covered her, then climbed back into bed and watched the rest of the movie. When it was over I turned the set off, snapped off the light and returned to bed.
I was thinking about the crescent-shaped scar when I fell asleep.
I was up early the next morning. She was still asleep. I looked down at her. In repose, her face looked like that of a little girl. I thought what prison would do to someone like her. She might be able to avoid it and be put on pro-
bation if she would listen to me. But it was too early to bring it up. I’d have to wait a day or two. I poured a straight shot of VO for myself and turned the television on for the Today Show. I lit a cigarette and went back to bed with my drink.
Sometime later she awakened. I felt her move and glanced at her. Her eyes were open, staring straight up at the ceiling. Her face was filled with fear. I watched her without saying anything.
Finally, with an obvious effort, she turned her head to look at me. Slowly, some of the fear began to fade.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” she asked. “I didn’t mean to stay here all night.”
“Why should I bother you? You were sleeping peacefully so I let you continue. Would you like some breakfast?”
“Here?”
“Why not?”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” she said. “I don’t want the waiter to see me here. Everybody in the hotel would know about it.”
“Nobody would know and nobody would care. What do you think people do here? Play solitaire?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I must go back to my room.” She swung her legs out of the bed and almost ran to the bathroom, grabbing up her clothes as she went. I stayed where I was.
When she came out she was fully dressed. She stood there looking at me for a minute, then came over and kissed me lightly. “Will I see you again?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll probably see you tonight, but it may not be in time for dinner. I might have to do some work.”
“At night? I thought you said you worked for an insurance company.”
“I do. We’re a big company with offices all over the world. I’m what might be called a trouble-shooter, so that means I quite often have to work at night.”
“All right. Thank you, Milo.”
“For what?”
“For being gentle.” She went to the door, opened it and peered out. Then she was swiftly gone.
I checked the bottle. There was still three or four drinks in it. I called room service and ordered my breakfast and a bucket of ice. I unlocked the door and got my gun from the closet shelf and went back to bed.
When the knock came I called for him to come in and waited to see if it were the waiter. It was. He pushed the table over to the bed. I signed the check and he went away.
I had another drink on the rocks. By that time I was fully awake, so I had breakfast. I showered, shaved and got dressed, then sat down to think for a minute.
Bacci and his friends were already pretty well stirred up, but I thought I’d push it a little farther and I’d have to make additional preparations. I went down to the drugstore on the level below the lobby. I bought a roll of adhesive tape and returned to my room. I took the automatic holster from the drawer and taped it to my left leg just above the ankle. I put the loaded clip in the gun and then slipped it into the holster. I stood up and took a look. It didn’t show. I went downstairs, picked up a morning paper in the lobby and then went on into the bar.
Buck brought over a VO and water. “How did your date go last night?”
“Fine.”
“I hear you went upstairs pretty early last night.” “You know how it is, Buck. When you’re working hard you have to get your sleep.”
“Not the way you work.”
“You don’t understand, Buck,” I said patiently. “Did you ever see a woman shopping in a store for fresh peaches?”
