Complete works of peter.., p.131
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 131
I give her a big grin.
"Anyway," I tell her, "this Grant guy thinks I've fallen for this stuff, so he is not worryin' about me for a little while. He is also certain that I will not contact Herrick anyway until tonight, which is about the only thing he is right about, an' how do you like that, baby?"
She gets up. She goes over to the sideboard an' gets herself a cigarette. She lights it, blows a puff of smoke an' looks at me. She is still smilin'.
"I don't like it a bit," she says. "I think it's hooey. You say you're Caution of the F.B.I." She shrugs her shoulders. "Well, you can't prove it. Where's your F.B.I. Identity Card? Supposing I ring the bell and ask the porter to have you thrown out on your ear? What are you going to do then? Another thing," she goes on, "maybe I can prove to you that you're wrong."
"Oh yeah!" I tell her. "You go ahead with it, but it'll have to be pretty good, an' anyway I wouldn't believe you. I'm wise to you, Carlette."
She goes over to a desk in the corner, an' gets hold of a document case. She unlocks it. She pulls out a lotta papers from inside.
"Come over here, Mr. Know-All," she says, "and have a look at this."
I ease over to the desk an' look at the papers. The top one is a newspaper cuttin'. As I put my hands on the desk to read this cuttin', I see her hand shoot out an' grab a paper-weight on the end of the desk. I swing around. I put up my left hand an' I just give her a nice little quiet smack under the jaw. She drops the paper-weight, she gives a sort of sigh an' I catch her as she falls. I carry her over an' lay her down on the settee.
I take a look around. I open the drawers in the desk, look through the papers. There is nothing there. The stuff looks as if it mighta been left by the previous tenant. I walk across an' open the door that leads out of the sittin'-room. The place is dark because the curtains are drawn, but it smells very good. There is a suggestion of perfume in the air like somebody had been usin' some nice bath salts or somethin'. Me I have gotta nose for scent an' I certainly go for this scent because it is very good.
I step inta the room an' fumble around for the light switch, but I don't worry about this business for very long, because right at this minute somebody catches me a helluva smack over the dome. I do a flop on the floor. Everything goes nice an' dark an' believe me, I am not worryin' about anything any more.
An' I do not even dream.
II. BOMB BABY
I.
SOME sense begins to trickle back inta my head. In other words I begin to get the idea that I am still alive even if I have just had a head-on collision with a dive-bomber. Every time I try to move my head it is like somebody is hittin' me with a coke hammer.
I relax an' after a few minutes my brain-box begins to tick over an' I realise that I have been taken for a sweet ride by this Carlette baby with the willin' assistance of the guy who was hidin' in her bedroom. Which just shows you that the dome of a "G" man is just as liable to get a mean bust as any other sonofabitch.
Havin' dealt with these deep thoughts I open one eye just a piece an' take a look around. I am lyin' in the sittin'-room with my head just inside the bedroom door where I have been dragged by somebody maybe the guy who socked me. From where I am lyin' I can see Carlette parked on the settee. She is lyin' back smokin' a cigarette an' on the table by the side of her well within reach of her pretty little fingers is a .38 automatic.
I get wise to this baby. Something way back of my brain clicks an' tells me that this Carlette Lariat is just nobody else but a dame called Carlette Francini, one of the toughest and hottest mommas that ever rolled a mug for his dough.
This baby has done a bit of everything an' got away with most of it. Dope peddlin', a spot of kidnappin' and any other sorta skulduggery that came her way.
I give a sigh an' begin to think of what I would like to do to this hell-cat if I got the chance, but after a minute I lay off this because these vindictive thoughts are not likely to get me any place.
So I start bein' constructive. I lay there, waitin' for my head to stop buzzin', tryin' to think of what has happened to me on other times that I have got myself sandbagged or slipped a Micky Finn in some dame's apartment, but believe it or not, I haveta come to the conclusion that the circumstances are not quite the same, an' that if I am goin' to get myself outa this jam I have got to be very clever an' very quick, because I do not reckon that these bozos are goin' to hand me a bunch of roses to speed me on my way. They will do somethin' else with me an' I do not think it will be so nice.
I ease myself up against the side of the door an' let go a big sigh. I open my eyes just in time to see Carlette grab the automatic an' point it in my direction. I give her a wan sorta smile.
"Look, Carlette," I tell her. "Maybe you think that this is all very clever an' sweet, but believe me, you brown snake, by the time I am through with you what I am goin' to do to you would make the early Christian martyrs look like the annual festival of the Two Forks Help-The-Troops Association. If you think you can get away with this sorta hooey you must be even more nutty than your ma knew about."
She gets up, pulls her stockin's up an' takes the cigarette outa her mouth. Then she walks over to where I am half lyin' against the wall an' stands there lookin' down at me like I was somethin' washed up by a tidal wave.
When she starts speakin' her voice an' everything is quite different. She is not the honeybabe I knew on the Florida. No, sir. She sounds tough an' nasty. She says:
"Whatever my ma knew she had enough sense to have a child with some brains, fly-cop."
She looks sorta far away for a minute an' then she goes on:
"Ma always wanted me to be the sorta girl that men look up to, but the trouble with me was that I wanted to be the sorta baby they look round at, an' that's the way it is. Anyhow," she says, "I reckon I got enough of what it takes to handle a big mug like you, because if your lady friend could see you now, lookin' like you was tryin' to remember where you stuck your chewin' gum last night, she would take one look an' a run-out powder, you big false alarm."
"Hooey," I tell her. "You are just another of these cheap gun molls with big ideas an' no brains. You make me sick. You are one of these babies who are so goddam dumb that any time you put your step-ins on wrong way round you think you gotta walk backwards all day. You got a swell pan an' you think you can skate through life on that instead of which by the time you are through you will have worn the seat of your pants out tryin' to slide round corners. Carlette," I continue, "to me you are just a big tub of lard with an ingrowin' temper an' no horse sense."
"You ain't tellin' me," she says. "Look, smart guy, this is one time when I do not want any wisecracks from you. I don't like you... see? I never did like you, you wisecrackin' Federal bastard, an' if you don't get that ugly trap of yours sewn up I'm gonna give you such a helluva deal that havin' your head sawn off would be pleasant compared with it. You got that?"
"I got it," I tell her. "An' I also remember you now you cheap four-flushin' jane. If you was not the baby who was tried with the Panzetti an' McGonnigle mob way back in '36 for murder an' kidnappin' then I am the Flyin' Dutchman. Although how I could ever forget a pan like yours is beyond me an' you have permission to quote me at full length."
"You don't say!" she says sorta acid. "Well... you're right. But I beat that rap an' if you think I'm takin' any back talk from you you can think some more. An' here's somethin' to be goin' on with."
She takes a short step back an' then she kicks me in the face. An' when I say kick I mean just that. My head goes back with a smack against the doorpost an' my nose begins to feel as if it belongs to some guy in the next street. A coupla of my teeth are evincin' a strong desire to part company with their colleagues an' my cheek is cut to hell where the sharp toe of her georgette shoe has caught it.
"An' how do you like that, pal?" she says.
She stands there smilin'. Believe it or not that woman is a sweet sorta dame. I reckon that when she was a kid her big amusement was pullin' cats' tails out.
"I don't like it at all," I tell her. "But don't you worry about me, Carlette. You just give yourself a nice happy time, because one of these fine days I am goin' to get around to you an' then I will celebrate plenty."
"Maybe, sourpuss, an' maybe not," she says. "Anything you can do to me is O.K. by me." She starts laughin'. "Hear me laugh," she says. "Mister Lemmy Caution, the big 'G' man, fallin' for me like a ton of coke. Did you go for my act on the Florida or did you you big lug! If you coulda heard me an' the boy friend laughin' our heads off at you you woulda wanted to jump in the sea an' bite a shark."
"Nice goin', you tramp," I tell her. "So Manders, the wireless guy on the Florida, was your boy friend, hey? I suppose he was another of the Panzetti mob that was workin' with you on this racket. Well, believe it or not, kiddo, that boy friend knows more about bitin' fish than I ever shall, because right where he is at the present moment there are plenty fish."
"What the hell do you mean by that?" she says. She looks concerned. I reckon maybe she was stuck on Manders.
"Oh, nothin'," I tell her. "But whatever you an' your lousy mob are aimin' to do with me, the fact remains that I pushed the Manders guy over the edge of the pier at Southampton with a brick in each pocket an' I reckon he's still sinkin'. That makes it sorta even... hey, sister?"
She flushes as red as a tomato She says:
"If I thought you was tellin' the truth, you lousy copper, I'd cut your throat now... but I don't believe you.... You're bluffin'."
"Punk," I say. "Manders is as dead as last week's hamburger an' right now that boyo is providin' a nice meal for the local fish. That makes you practically a widow so far as love is concerned, an' I hope the next time you get married it will be to a rattlesnake, an' believe me I'd be sorry for the rattler. Another thing," I go on, "is that you are takin' some big chances, Carlette. You're feelin' pretty good right now. Anything I can do would make you smile, says you, but ain't you forgettin' that there are some other guys workin' with me on this business. What about these English coppers? You can't get away with this stuff over here, baby. They'll have you before you know it."
"Nuts," she says. "First of all Herrick don't know you've arrived. So far as he's concerned you're just gonna disappear into thin air. So nobody is goin' to worry about the big 'G' man Lemmy Caution for quite a while."
"Maybe an' maybe not," I crack back at her, "but at the same time if I hadn't come around here lookin' for you, thinkin' that you was Carlette Lariat instead of that cheap mobster's pet Carlette Francini, the position would not be like this. I was unlucky," I go on, "I just didn't know that your other boy friend was hidin' in the bedroom."
She laughs.
"You're dead right, copper," she says. "He was here when I opened the door for you, an' I reckon he heard your voice an' got under cover. I'm glad he did."
"I suppose he's gone to get himself a drink to celebrate," I say.
"You'd like to know, mug," she says. "But don't worry, he'll be back, an' when he arrives we got a nice little idea we're gonna work on you. You're goin' out of this place in a big laundry basket an' nobody is ever gonna hear of you again."
I do not say anything to this because believe it or not these guys would think nothin' of doin' a little thing like that. I lean my head back against the doorpost an' give a sorta sigh as if I wasn't feelin' so good. Then, I give a groan an' let my head fall back on the floor with a bump, just as if I'd passed out.
I lie there with my eyes closed, but I have got my left eyelid open just a little bit an' I am watchin' her. She stands there lookin' at me for a minute an' then she does what I hoped she was goin' to do. She walks over to the sideboard an' she comes back with a big glass water jug. She is still totin' the gun in her right hand an' she comes an' stands over me an' starts dribblin' the water outa the jug over my face.
"Come on, you big sissy," she says. "If you haveta faint just because of what I handed out to you, I wonder what you're gonna do when Willie comes back an' gets to work on you."
I open my eyes sorta slow. Then I give a moan an' do a big act that I am tryin' to sit up an' that I can't quite make it. I waggle my head about like I was a concussion case an' let go another groan.
She calls me by a very rude name an' she steps in a bit closer an' tilts the jug so that the rest of the water slops right over my face. I sit up quick an' take a sudden kick at the jug. It comes off. I knock the jug right outa her hand an' it catches her a nasty smack just underneath the waist-line. She gives a helluva gasp, tries to get the gun up but she can't make it. She squeezes the trigger an' puts a bullet in the floor between my legs, drops the gun an' then she goes right out. I reckon I have knocked every bit of wind outa this dame that she ever had an' then some.
I do not waste any time. I get up, grab the rod, go out to the hallway and put the bolt on the apartment door because I do not wanta be surprised by the guy Willie if he comes back.
When I get back to the sittin'-room, Carlette is still rollin' about, makin' funny noises. I pick her up an' stick her on the couch. Then I go inta the bedroom an' take the cord of a dressing-gown that I find in there an' tie her up so she looks like a trussed chicken.
I then get some water outa the bathroom an' give her a drink. By this time she has got her breath back an' is lookin' at me like a meetin' of the Associated Brothers of Satan tryin' to decide which is the slowest method of boilin' some guy alive.
"It just shows you, sweetheart," I tell her, "that everything works out for the best an' that nobody should ever give up hope."
She puts up a sickly sort of grin. She says:
"O.K., Caution. Maybe you think you're doin' fine. But you ain't gotta hope. I got plenty of friends over here who will take care of you."
"All right, honey," I tell her. "You have a good hate but it ain't goin' to get you anywhere. Just excuse me while I make arrangements for the disposal of the carcass."
I go out an' take a look around the flat. On the far side of the kitchen is a big coal cupboard, an' while it ain't exactly full there is enough coal an' coke inside to make things interestin' for Carlette. I go back to the sittin'-room, pick her up an' take her into the kitchen. I dump her in the coal-cellar.
"I reckon you can shout your head off here, baby," I tell her, "an' nobody ain't goin' to hear you. If you get hungry just cut yourself a nice piece of coal."
I will not tell you what that dame said to me because even if you understood it you wouldn't believe that words like that could come out of a mouth that is as pretty as Carlette's, all of which will go to prove to you guys that because a woman has got a very nice pan an' a sweet set of curves it does not mean that she cannot be very nasty at times.
I shut the cupboard door just at the time she is tellin' me what she hopes will happen to my great grandchildren, lock it an' put the key in my pocket.
I then go back to the sittin'-room, grab myself four fingers of rye whisky out of the bottle an' proceed to do a little quiet thinkin'.
First of all I reckon that the guy who was hidin' in the bedroom was some guy that I do not know at the moment. What I mean is I reckon he was not the phoney Grant guy because if he hadda been, Carlette, when she had me on the end of that gun of hers, couldn't have resisted tellin' me all about it. If I am right in this idea, then the Grant guy does not know that I have been to see Carlette, because he does not know that I got her address, an' because he will believe that I will stick around today like I said an' go an' see Herrick at the Yard some time tonight. But the Grant guy will have an idea of something that I will do. He will have this idea because he put it into my head. An' the reason he did this was because this was because this bozo has got a little scheme of his own. An' I think I know what it is.
I give myself another quick drink just to keep the cold out an' go into the bathroom. When I take a look at myself in the mirror I nearly throw a fit because my pan looks like territory that Mister Hitler has been occupyin'. My nose an' cheek are cut an' I have got an eye that looks like I have been havin' a rough house with Joe Louis.
I get to work on myself with a wet towel, after which I grab my hat an' coat, close the apartment door behind me an' ease downstairs.
On the ground floor I find the porter. I reckon this guy looks pretty intelligent because he takes a look at my pan but don't even blink an eyelid.
I take out my bill-fold an' rustle out a five-pound note. I say:
"There has been a little trouble at Miss Lariat's place. I'm her brother an' I had a spot of trouble with the guy who was up there. Maybe you remember him goin' up."
He says yes he does.
"Well, that guy is bad medicine," I go on. "He's been chasin' around after my sister, an' she don't like it. When I told him to scram he hit me with a china vase. You can see what he did to my pan."
He says yes he can see that too.
"O.K.," I tell him. "Well, if that guy comes around here again an' I expect he will you might tell him that Miss Lariat has gone, an' that she don't want to see him. Don't let him get away with anything around here."
He says he supposes that Miss Lariat will confirm what I'm tellin' him.
"Sure, she will," I say. "But she don't want to be disturbed till late tonight. She's lyin' down. She's sorta upset about things."
I slip him the five-pound note an' he says he understands everything perfectly an' that if Mr. Kritsch comes round he will see that he does not get up to the apartment.
"That's fine," I say. "An' when the guy goes maybe he'll take a cab some place. If you want to earn another five you might use your ears an' listen to the address he gives the driver."
He says he'll do anything he can, an' that the drivers on the cab-rank there are all sorta friends of his so he reckons that if Kritsch takes a cab he can find out the address.
I say thanks a lot an' scram.
I ease around the corner an' I get myself a cab an' drive back to Jermyn Street. I take a look at my watch an' see that it is just seven o'clock.
