Complete works of peter.., p.156
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 156
"O.K. For the same reason you're callin' yourself Tamara Phelps when you're not. Directly Charlie Milton told me that Schribner had mentioned the name of Jakie Larue to him--Jakie Larue bein' a guy who is servin' a from fifteen years to life sentence at Leavenworth, I had a telephone call put through to the F.B.I, at Washington.
"All right, sweetheart. Well, I gotta reply to that. Not so long ago Rudy Zimman was head man for Jakie Larue. Rudy Zimman's girl was a girl called Tamara Phelps. She's under observation now in the States. an' how d'ya like that, sweetheart?"
She looks at me with her mouth open.
She says: "I don't like it."
"O.K.," I tell her. "Well, havin' discussed this little bit of business so far, maybe now we can talk some real business. You tell me somethin': Who are you? an' don't give me any more fairy tales, sister."
"Look, Lemmy," she says, "maybe I've made a fool of myself. Listen--I'm going to tell you the truth now--an' you'll know it's the truth. Look--I'll prove it to you...."
She flips open her handbag, puts her hand inside an' brings out a very pretty little pearl-handled .32 automatic. The muzzle is pointin' right at my navel. It almost gives me a stomach ache to look at it.
"O.K., wise guy," she says. "Just take it easy, an' don't start anything, otherwise this cannon is going to go off."
I shrug my shoulders.
"That's O.K., honeybelle," I tell her. "So you came heeled? You was prepared for a show-down, hey?"
"I'm always prepared for a show-down," she says. "And I'm not always unlucky, although I was a little bit unlucky over this Rudy Zimman-Tamara Phelps business. It looks as if I picked the wrong name, doesn't it?"
"You certainly did," I tell her. "an' now we come to mention it, what is the name?"
"Santa Claus to you," she says. She gets up an' walks over to the door. "Look, pal," she says, "I'm going. If you take a tip from me, you're going to stay in that chair till I'm out of this flat. Otherwise I am going to let a little daylight into you." She backs across the hallway, puts one hand behind her an' opens the door. "So long, copper," she says. "Maybe I'll be seein' you--and maybe I won't." The door slams behind her.
I give a big grin. I light myself a cigarette an' pour out one little shot of bourbon. It tastes good to me.
An' why not!
V. -- TOO MANY RUDYS
WHEN the clock on the mantelpiece strikes ten I am still sittin' there with my feet up smokin', drinkin' a little spot of bourbon an' just thinkin' around this case generally. One fact is as obvious as a stick of liquorice on a white carpet, an' that is that somebody has been takin' this guy Schribner for a ride. Work it out for yourselves an' tell me if you don't agree with me.
O.K. Here we go: First of all let's assume for the sake of argument that this Julia Wayles baby has been snatched. Somehow or other she has been got away from New York over here to England. What happens to her when she gets here or where she is we do not know, an' for the moment we do not care. But Schribner has got somethin' to do with her. Maybe the phoney Tamara Phelps was tellin' the truth for once when she said Schribner was the guy who was supposed to look after Julia while she was here an' that he knows where she is.
All the indications seem to show that Julia was snatched by some guys who are members of Jakie Larue's old gang, an' this idea is supported by the fact that Schrbiner talks about Larue bein' in Leavenworth at the time that Charlie Milton, pretendin' to be Rudy, says all the boys are feelin' pretty good; to which Schribner says Larue won't be feelin' so good because he is doin' a fifteen year stretch in Leavenworth.
The idea is again supported by the fact that both Rudy Zimman an' Tamara Phelps--the real ones I mean--usta be pals of Jakie Larue, an' Schribner is expectin' these two to come over an' contact him for some reasons connected with this business.
But Schribner don't know Rudy an' he don't know Tamara, which looks as though, if he is workin' in with Larue's old gang, arrangements about this Wayles snatch an' Schribner receivin' this dame over here, have been made through the post or somehow. Because if Schribner had known Larue, or knew the members of his mob who've pulled this snatch, he would know Rudy an' he would know Tamara.
But there is somebody else in on this business. There's got to be. There is somebody else in on this business who knows that Schribner don't know Rudy Zimman an' don't know Tamara Phelps. This wise guy, whoever he may be, for some reason best known to himself, lets Schribner know that this Rudy Zimman is comin' over an' also that Tamara Phelps is comin' over.
O.K. Well, the baby who just stuck me up with a gun an' got outa here quick, an' who is not Tamara Phelps, comes over to this country, kids Schribner that she is Tamara Phelps an' settles herself in at the house at Dorkin'.
While she is down there Charlie Milton rings through. She thinks it is Rudy Zimman. who obviously she don't know, an' suggests the fact to him. Charlie, bein' a wise guy, jumps in an' says he is Rudy.
So we now arrive at two interestin' decisions, an' we've got some sweet questions to ask ourselves The first one is who was it put in the phoney Tamara Phelps; who was it that knew the real Tamara Phelps was due to come over here, an' why did they wanta put in the dame I have met in her place? The second interestin' thing is that there is no doubt that the real Rudy Zimman an' the real Tamara Phelps are either here or on their way here. When these two real guys meet Schribner some fun is goin' to start, because that guy is goin' to realise that somebody has taken him for a ride.
That's the way I see it, an' I think you guys will agree with me that this is the real set-up. It is also the sorta set-up that I like, because once you get enough guys mixed up--all wonderin' what the hell the other one is at--all you gotta do is to sit back an' let them sort themselves out, because in nine cases outa ten while they're at it, they'll sort the case out for you too, an' although maybe this is not the real Sherlock Holmes technique, it is one that works a darned sight better an' stops you rushin' around with a double-barrelled magnifyin' glass lookin' for clues under the edge of the dinin'-room sideboard, an' only findin' a lump of chewin' gum that somebody stuck there three weeks ago.
It is a quarter past ten when I get up an' give myself a warm shower. First of all I think I'll get inta bed. Then after a minute I think no maybe somethin' will happen. So I dress an' have one little snifter just to keep the germs away.
At half-past ten the house telephone goes. The janitor from downstairs rings up to say that there is a gentleman by the name of Nikolls to see me. I say O.K. send him up.
A coupla minutes afterwards Nikolls comes in. He shuts the hall door behind him an' hangs his hat up on the hallstand. He takes a pack of Lucky Strikes out of one coat pocket, a wax vesta outa the other an' strikes it on the seat of his pants. He lights the cigarette an' relaxes in the big armchair. I got the idea it would take a lot to disturb this Nikolls guy.
He looks at the bottle on the table.
"I could use a little of that," he says. "I find I always think better on rye. I told you I was writin' a book on the art of bein' a detective, didn't I?"
"You don't say?" I tell him. "I reckon it's goin' to be good, ain't it? What does that boss of your--Callaghan--think about it?"
Nikolls spreads his hands.
"Oh him!" he says. "Well, he's got a different technique to me. Maybe he's a little bit jealous."
I nod. I pour him out a shot of bourbon which he sinks in one gulp. He draws a big mouthful of tobacco smoke an' blows it out through his nostrils. Then he says:
"I expect you wanta know about this Phelps baby, don't you? I picked her up when she left here. I think I hadda bit of luck about that baby."
"Yeah?" I tell him. "How lucky?"
"She took a cab at the end of Jermyn Street," he says, "an' she went out to an apartment block--Mayfield Court--this side of Hampstead--a nice place. I went behind her in another cab. When she went in the block, I went in after her. The place is one of them dumps with a long corridor. I could see her walkin' ahead of me. Presently she stopped an' rang the bell at the door of an apartment on the ground floor. She went in.
"I hung around until I found the liftman. I slipped him a quid and told him I was doin' some private inquiry work in a divorce case; asked him who owned the apartment that Tamara had just gone into. He told me it was owned by some dame named Owen--a Mrs. Owen. Just then Tamara came out. I stuck around the corner. She called the liftman an' asked him if it was possible for him to fix with a taxi to drive her out to Dorking at about a quarter to twelve to-night. He said he didn't know but he's find out an' let her know. She went back inta the apartment.
"The lift guy went off to visit the local taxi rank. When he came back he told me he'd fixed it. A cab was goin' to call for this Tamara baby at a quarter to twelve an' take her out to Dorking. I can't give you the address they're goin' to--he didn't know so he couldn't tell me. I guess she'll tell the cabman when the time comes."
"That's O.K., Nikolls," I tell him. "I reckon I know the address she's goin' to." I pour him out another drink. "Look, Nikolls," I go on, "when I pulled you in on this job I told your boss I just wanted you to do a little tailin' an' nothin' else. Well, maybe I can use you again, but it might be a little bit tough this time. Does the idea sort of appeal to you?"
He looks at me an' he grins.
"If you knew anything about Callashan Investigations." he says. "you'd know you've sot to be plenty tough to string along with that guy Callaghan. I just been brought up bein' tough. I usta work for a firm of private dicks in Chicago in '35. Would that mean anything to you?"
I grin. "It would mean plenty," I tell him. "'35 was a right royal year in Chicago an' any private dick who went around the windy city those days was liable to find himself in the gutter with a lead slug in his belly any day in the week. If you managed to survive that epoch you're O.K., pal."
He puts his hand out an' grabs the rye bottle. He pours himself another slug.
"Anythin' you want just let me know," he says.
I do a little quiet thinkin'. Then I tell him:
"Look--when this dame, that we think is Tamara Phelps but isn't, goes out to this Dorkin' dump to-night I'm goin' after her. I got an idea she's goin' out to see a guy called Schribner an' tell him a little fairy story. All right. Well, you're not concerned with the fairy story. I'm goin' to give that dame long enough to tell Schribner what she wants; then I'm goin' to bust in that dump. The joke is I ain't goin' to have a gun. I'm goin' to be easy meat for anybody. This guy Schribner has tried to get rid of me once. He don't like me. Maybe he's goin' to try it on again."
"I got it," he says. "an' where do I come in? I suppose I clock him at the crucial moment?"
"Oh no," I tell him. "What you gotta do is this: You get down to Dorking at about twelve-thirty. When you get there drive out of the town along the Reigate road. About two hundred and fifty yards past the Dorkin' roundabout you'll find the golf course. There's lots of places you can park a car there where nobody will see it.
"O.K. You get over the wire fence an' you start walkin' across the sixth fairway till you come to an avenue of limes. Follow the avenue of limes uphill an' when you get to the top where the trees stop just stick there in the shade an' wait for me."
"I get it," he says. "I oughta be there round about a quarter to one."
"That's O.K.," I tell him. "If the phoney Tamara leaves Hampstead by cab at a quarter to twelve she's not goin' to get out to the dump she's goin' to, which is on this golf course, until about one o'clock. That gives us plenty of time to fix things up. You got all that?"
"O.K.," he says. "I'll be there. There's only one thing. If anybody's goin' to get hurt on this job--I mean if I've gotta hurt somebody--I'd like to do it nice an' quiet. My boss Callaghan don't like any sorta publicity about sluggin' guys."
I grin at him. "Don't worry," I tell him. "I don't want any publicity myself. If we've gotta slug anybody we'll do it nice an' quiet."
"O.K.," he says. He looks at his watch. "It's a quarter to eleven," he says. "I reckon I got a half an hour before I leave--just time enough to see a cutie I know with a nice hip-line. Maybe she'll sorta inspire me for a little night work with you. So long."
He strikes another match on the seat of his pants an' lights a fresh cigarette. He puts his hat on an' scrams. This guy Nikolls is nice an' quiet an' easy on his feet although he is a big man. I reckon he might be good in a rough house.
I take off the telephone an' I ring through to the U.S. Embassy. I speak to the night secretary an' give him my name an' code number. I tell him I want a car round here in Jermyn Street at eleven o'clock an' can he fix it for me. He says O.K. He'll send one of the Embassy cars round. The driver'll park it outside an' leave it. I tell him thanks a lot. I tell him also I'd be very glad if he'd have the Embassy diplomatic badge taken off the car, because I don't wanta start another war down in Dorkin'. He says O.K. he'll do that.
"By the way, Mr. Caution," he goes on, "I'm glad you're back in town an' workin'. We've been wonderin' where you were."
"Yeah?" I tell him. "Well, you oughta know. I was supposed to be on leave. I was in Scotland. Didn't they tell you I love scenery?"
I hear him chuckle. "I've heard about you," he says. "I think I can make a guess at the sort of scenery you were looking at. Good-night."
A clock is just strikin' half-past twelve when I get over the wire fence just off the Reigate road an' start wanderin' across the grass towards the avenue of lime trees. It has got a bit cold an' there is a spot of rain fallin'. There are big clouds in front of the moon an' I get the sorta feelin' that this is the sorta night that somethin' happens on. I hope it is gonna be something good.
I walk up the middle of the avenue. Away on the right is a fairway with a helluva lot of sheep stickin' around. Some of 'em have gone inta the trees for shelter an' some of 'em--the mugs--are standin' out on the fairway lookin' at the ground. I reckon sheep are like people. Some duck when the trouble starts an' some don't.
Somebody says: "Hello..." I look around an' there is the Nikolls guy. He is leanin' up against a lime tree smokin' a cigarette, shieldin' the end with his hand.
"Hello," I tell him. "How was the hipline? I hope it wasn't difficult for you to drag yourself away."
"Oh no," he says. "I never mind. You can always find another one--if you look."
He hands me a Lucky Strike an' holds up his lighter. The smoke tastes good.
"Well," he says, "how do we play this--whatever it is--an' do I get back to London before to-morrow or am I turn in' rustic?"
"You..." I tell him, "are a guy called Rudy Zimman. You are a bad guy. You usta get around with a boyo named Jakie Larue who is stuck inside Leavenworth at the present moment servin' from fifteen years to life for snatchin' somebody. You got that?"
"I got it," he says. "An' what have I been doin' since Larue's been inside? Just rollin' around--or have I been committin' some more crimes?"
"I reckon you've done practically everything" I tell him. "I reckon you are so bad that you don't even like yourself sometimes. Maybe you've been doin' a bit of white slavin' lately...."
"I see," he says. "I been doin' that just for a nice change, I suppose?"
"Somethin' like that," I tell him. "Well, anyhow, somebody I don't know gets in touch with you in New York an' tells you to come over here an' make a contact with a guy called Maxie Schribner. This guy lives in a white cottage--not a bad sorta little house--a coupla mdes or so from here. I'll show you where the dump is. You got all that?"
"I got it," he says. "Tell me some more. I'm sort of interested in my life's history."
"Some dame has also been sent over to contact this Schribner guy," I tell him. "Her name is Tamara Phelps, but she is not the one we know. That one is a phoney one. But Schribner thinks the phoney one is the genuine article. Well, this dame don't know Rudy Zimman. She probably knows he is comin' over here but she don't know him. She's already taken some other guy for him."
"So I'm going to meet her, am I?" he says. "It looks like it's goin' to be an interestin' session."
"You never know," I tell him. "Anyhow... I got an idea in my head that this phoney Tamara is comin' out here tonight to tell Schribner some story an' duck. She's scared, see? She's scared because of the little talk she an' I had in my apartment before you tailed her to Hampstead."
"I got it," he says. "The phoney Tamara thinks that things are gettin' a little bit too warm an' wants to duck."
"Right," I tell him. "I reckon she's gonna tell Schribner some story to keep him quiet an' then she's gonna fade. Well, I want you to show up before she does. I want you to knock on the door of Schribner's place an' when you get in you tell him that you are Rudy Zimman an' that you just arrived here in England an' came out as soon as you could. The guy is then gonna get scared an' say what the hell is this; that he has already met up with one Rudy who has disappeared. You say that's right; that the Rudy he has met is nobody else but an F.B.I, operative called Charlie Milton, who is the guy who let Lemmy Caution--the other 'G' man--escape, an' that this Milton guy is all set to make things good an' hot for Schribner.
"Schribner then gets scared, an' then you ask who the dame is. Schribner is gonna have another surprise because Rudy Zimman oughta know her. He is gonna say what the hell again, an' you are goin' to tell him that this dame is not Tamara Phelps any more than you are old King Cole. You are also gonna tell him that there has been a darn sight too much funny business goin' on an' too many outsiders musclin' in on this job, an' that you are goin' to start some cleanin' up beginnin' with the phoney Tamara. You are goin' to suggest that vou are goin' to give it to her.
"Well, I reckon that Schribner will fall for this line. Maybe he's gonna suggest that you crease this dame an' throw her in the local sewage, which was an idea he had about me. So you got to take that dame off. You gotta sell the idea to Schribner that you're gonna bump her. When you get her outside you march her across to the heap you come down in, an' take her back to my apartment on Jermyn Street. Maybe she'll do some talkin' an' maybe she's goin' to be quiet. If she talks remember what she says. Anyhow, I'll be along some time an' I'll talk to that bird."
