Say Yes to Murder - Todhunter Ballard (book club recommendations .TXT) 📗

trouble with your paper and you know it. That bank account of yours is like a sieve—a rubber one.”

Lennox told him softly: “You never howled about my paper before. It’s always been covered.”

Kreach shrugged expressively. “Spurck always coppered your bets before. I hear he isn’t doing it now.”

The corner of Lennox’ mouth lifted in a sardonic grin. “Thanks, Kreach, but I’ll eat a long time after the boys up at Quentin have you on their table list.”

The man at the desk laughed. “You’re going to have us raided? Is that it? Your mind’s getting twisted, Lennox. You’ve got yourself mixed up with someone important. There isn’t a cop in town who would dare touch this joint.”

“Like that?” Lennox sounded interested.

“Like that,” Kreach told him blandly.

“You know,” said Lennox, speaking to no one in particular, “you give me an idea. Sometime it might come in handy.”

2.

As Lennox went back along the hall the chair which Toni had occupied was empty.

The crowd had swelled during his absence. He stopped before the little bar and spun a half-dollar across the surface. The white-coated attendant made a Scotch and soda without being told.

Lennox tasted his drink and then turned and hooked his elbows on the edge of the bar so that he faced the room. No sign of Ed Strong. He wondered whether the piano-player had gone on.

The blonde who had shown him her back when he first arrived swept past with a dark-haired youth in tow. Her eyes met Lennox’ brooding ones, and she said with studied sweetness.

“Why, it’s Mr. Lennox! My dear, I didn’t recognize you.”

“It’s age, sweetheart,” he told her. “Age dulls the eyesight.”

Her cheeks reddened beneath her heavy theatrical make-up and she moved hastily away. Lennox followed her with his eyes and then stiffened as the crowd parted and he saw Ed Strong at one of the tables. He set his glass on the bar and went forward, but as he did so Strong came out of the crowd around the gambling table, his hands filled with silver.

Lennox saw that he was still drunk and caught his shoulder. “Wait a minute, Ed.”

Strong turned to blink at him. “Lennox. Every place I go, I meet Lennox. How are you, pal-o?”

“I’m fine,” said Lennox, “but you seem to be a little the worse for wear. Why don’t you hike home and sleep it off?”

“Got business,” said Strong thickly. “Gotta find someone. Very… very important.”

Lennox said, “You’ll just lose that dough.” He had an idea. “Give it to me. I’ll get you a check in the morning.”

“Sure,” said Strong. He was a very amiable drunk. “Sure, pal-o.”

“And go home,” said Lennox, taking the silver dollars from the man’s hands. “Go home and sleep.” He hesitated for an instant, then he took Strong’s arm, piloted him to the stairs and downward to the street.

Lennox gave the cabman two dollars. “Take him home and pour him in.” He watched the cab pull away, then turned and went back up the stairs toward the gambling room. He was being a damn fool. He knew it, but he didn’t like being tossed out of the place. A man had to assert his rights. At the top of the steps he paused, realizing that he was a little tight, then he moved forward toward one of the roulette wheels.

The rat-eyed croupier glanced up sharply, then away. Lennox ignored him. He watched the wheel, gauging its rhythm, then bet twenty dollars on the black. Sixteen came up and he lost.

He doubled the bet and a green number showed. Then he switched to the middle group, won, and let it ride. He won again and shoved the whole pile onto black. Four came up, and he collected his winnings, moving with them toward the crap table.

From the corner of his eye Lennox saw Kreach come through the curtained doorway. He was alone. Madam Honia was no place in sight. Kreach paused to survey the room, his jet-black hair, heavy with oil, gleaming under the lights. Then he came forward on his extremely small feet and stopped at Lennox’ side just as the dice were passed to Bill.

“You’re through, Lennox.”

William Lennox turned slowly, deliberately, to face the man. He sensed that the whole room was suddenly quiet, that everyone had his eyes on the crap layout.

“Meaning?”

Kreach said: “Just that. We don’t want your play, and we don’t want you.”

The dice rattled in Lennox’ right hand, with his left he pushed the whole pile of money onto the line. Then he sent the red cubes jumping across the layout to rebound halfway back across the table. They turned up, a six-one.

Lennox’ eyes net the croupier’s black ones. “Pay off, mister.”

The man hesitated, looking at Kreach for instructions. The gambler nodded imperceptibly, and the man counted out stacks of silver dollars which he shoved in front of Lennox.

Bill gathered them up slowly. Their weight made his coat pockets sag. He shoved one back toward the dealer as a tip, then turned.

“O.K., Kreach. I thought you were yellow. Now I know it.” His voice carried across the deathly quiet room. He brushed past the gambler and walked toward the doorway which led to the stairs.

But he did not descend the stairs, for as he came through the doorway he saw a figure hurry across the landing and start upward toward the third floor. Lennox swore sharply under his breath. The hurrying man was Ed Strong.

For a moment the studio troubleshooter hesitated, then he turned and followed Strong up the steps to the third floor.

3.

It was with mixed emotions that Lennox climbed those stairs. He knew that Strong was drunk, and he had assumed that the man was already home in bed. He wondered again why he was going to so much trouble. If Strong wanted to keep wandering around, it was certainly none of his business.

The piano-player had reached the third floor, but he did not turn toward the front of the building where a big living room took the place of the old-fashioned parlor of a bygone era. He turned instead and went down a corridor resembling a hotel passage into which doors opened on either side—closed doors.

The man moved to the end, tried a door on the right, and found it locked. With the air of a conspirator he pulled a bunch of plain skeleton keys from his pocket. The third one fitted, and he pushed the door open and stood in the entrance peering into the room.

Lennox came up behind him, his feet making no sound on the heavy hall runner, and looked across Strong’s shoulder. It was a long room, more like a cell than a bedchamber. But there was a bed, a plain affair similar to the type found in hospitals. There was also a chair and a dresser.

A girl sat in the chair, staring at them with blank, unmoving eyes. She had black hair and a small, oval, good-looking face. She sat motionless as a statue, and her eyes remained vacant, unchanging. Nothing about her gave evidence that she knew that the door was open, or that they were standing there.

Lennox said: “What the heck?” He said it in surprise, but he did not raise his voice.

Ed Strong jumped as if he had been shot. He swung around and his gasp as he saw Bill held relief as well as surprise. While he was doing this, he didn’t seem very drunk. He quickly locked the door. Then he caught Lennox’ arm and pushed him along the hall.

And suddenly he was drunk again, reeling. Lennox did not understand the change for an instant, then he did, for Madam Honia had appeared from the front room.

“What are you guys up to?” She sounded hostile.

Strong came out and slapped her affectionately. “Old friend,” he mumbled. “Wan’ you should meet my old friend. Her name used to be Kelly in Chicago. Used to work for her….”

“Shut up!” she said and glared at Lennox. “I thought you were told to get out of here.”

Bill nodded. “I was, but…”

“Then get out.”

Strong said: “Now, now. Is that the way to act? He’s a good guy, madam. Just because the old knife is out for him doesn’t mean he isn’t a good guy. He’s got troubles, and he’s looking for a little fun.” The piano-player pushed her aside and waved Lennox through the arched entrance into the parlor.

Two men were there already, talking to half a dozen girls who were lined up primly on a long cushioned seat. A juke box against the far wall played monotonously, and Strong glared at it.

It was obvious to Lennox that Madam Honia was undecided what to do. She wanted to get rid of them, but her long years of training in the business had taught her discretion.

She came over to his side and said in a low, urgent tone: “Look, pal. Kreach told you to get out a couple of hours ago. He thinks you’re gone, and he is a very indiscreet character when he gets aroused. Why don’t you be the bright boy and bow out before anyone gets rough?”

He said: “I like it here.”

She looked at him helplessly, then shrugged. “O. K., you asked for it.” She crossed the room and pressed a buzzer twice.

Strong turned around and said reproachfully: “Now what did you do that for?”

“Because,” she informed him, “neither of you have sense enough to keep out of trouble.”

“We’ll go,” Strong said resignedly.

“No,” she said, looking more like a horse than ever, and there was something in her eyes Lennox did not like. “No!” she repeated, “I think we’ll keep you around until you sober up. I don’t like you wandering around that hall. You know the rules.”

Suddenly Strong wasn’t drunk any more. He was scared. Lennox knew that. Strong said, “Now Mabel. Please…” And then someone came up behind Lennox and the pressure of a gun was against the small of his back.

“So you’re still here?” It was Toni the guard.

“Take him out,” said the woman. “We don’t want any trouble. Strong is drunk. I’m going to put him to bed.”

The other two men in the room paid no attention; neither did the girls. Lennox, too, was scared, but not so much as the piano-player.

Strong’s knees wobbled noticeably, and he begged: “Honest Mabel, I was just drunk. I’m sorry.”

“You’re still drunk,” she said.

“No. I’m sober now.” And he was. Lennox couldn’t decide whether the other part had been an act or not. If a man gets really frightened it drives the alcohol fumes out of his head.

Bill said: “I won’t go without Strong.”

Toni’s voice was soft. Toni’s mouth was close to his ear when he said: “Don’t make me get tough, honey. Don’t make me bust you.”

Eddie Strong ventured a look at Lennox, and the madam took his pipe-stem arm and steered him to the far side of the room. In a few minutes he came back. “It’s all right, pal-o,” he told Lennox. “It’s all right,” he repeated in a steady voice, but he was still a little frightened. “Nothing will happen to me.”

Lennox wasn’t sure. Strong said: “I’ve known Mabel thirty years. Nothing will happen to me.”

Lennox went downstairs with the distinct feeling that he was deserting the man. He didn’t know what else to do. The only reward a continued protest would earn him would be a beating. There were plenty of bruisers around the place to handle it, and there had been nasty rumors of other beatings under that roof. Madam Honia ruled the place with an iron hand. Or perhaps it was Kreach; Lennox did not