Vengeance Is Mine

“It couldn’t have been much of a fuss. He was pretty damn drunk.”

“It wasn’t,” he said. “Just enough to leave indications. By the way, Mike . . . about that slug and shell we found in the hall. Was that your work?”

I let out a short, sour laugh. “I told you that once. No. Somebody had a hole in his pocket.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll check the hotel again. It had to be either a resident or a visitor then. It’s too bad you didn’t lock the door.”

“A lock won’t stop a killer,” I said. “He had all the time in the world and could make as much noise as he wanted. Most of the guests were either half deaf or dead to the world when the gun went off. It’s an old building with thick walls that do a nice job of muffling sound.”

Pat picked up the check and laid a dollar on top of it. “You’ll contact me tonight then?”

“You bet. See you later and tell the D.A. I was asking for him.”

It took fifteen minutes to get to the Chadwick Hotel. It was another side-street affair with an essence of dignity that stopped as soon as you entered the lobby. The desk clerk was the Mom type until she spoke then what came out made you think of other things. I told her I wanted to see a certain Marion Lester and she didn’t bother to question or announce me. She said, “Room 312 and go up the stairs easy. They squeak.”

I went up the stairs easy and they squeaked anyway. I knocked on the door of 312, waited and knocked again. The third time I heard feet shuffling across the floor and the door opened just far enough to show wide blue eyes, hair curlers and a satin negligee clutched tightly at the throat. I jumped the gun before she could ask questions with “Hello, Marion, Juno told me to see you.”

The wide eyes got wider and the door opened the rest of the way. I closed it behind me and made like a gentleman by sweeping off my hat. Marion licked her lips and cleared her throat. “I . . . just got up.”

“So I see. Rough night?”

“. . . No.”

She took me through the miniature hall into a more miniature living room and waved for me to sit down. I sat. She said, “It’s so early . . . if you don’t mind, I’ll get dressed.

I told her I didn’t mind and she shuffled into the bedroom and began pulling drawers out and opening closets. She wasn’t like the other girls I knew. She was back in five minutes. This time she had a suit on and the curlers were out of her hair. A little make-up and her eyes didn’t look so wide either.

She sat down gracefully in a straight-backed chair and reached for a cigarette in a silver box. “Now, what did you want to see me about, Mr. . . .”

“Mike Hammer. Just plain Mike.” I snapped a match on my thumbnail and held it out to her. “Did Juno tell you about me?”

Marion nodded, twin streams of smoke sifting out through her nostrils. Her voice had a tremor in it and she licked her lips again. “Yes. You . . . were with Mr. Wheeler when he . . . he died.”

“That’s right. It happened under my nose and I was too drunk to know it.”

“I’m afraid there’s little I can . . . tell you, Mike.”

“Tell me about that night. That’s enough.”

“Didn’t Juno tell you?”

“Yeah, but I want to hear you say it.”

She took a deep drag on the butt and squashed it in a tray. “He took me home. I had a few too many drinks, and ... well, I was feeling a little giddy. I think he rode around in a cab with me for a while. Really, I can’t remember everything exactly ...”

“Go on.”

“I must have passed out, because the next thing I knew I woke up in my bed fully clothed and with an awful hangover. Later I learned that he had committed suicide, and frankly, I was very much upset.”

“And that’s all?”

“That’s all.”

It’s too bad, I thought. She’s the type to show a guy a time if she wanted to. It was just too damn bad. She waited to see what I’d say next, and since it was still early I asked, “Tell me about it from the beginning. The show and all, I mean.”

Marion smoothed out her hair with the flat of her hand and looked up at the ceiling. “The Calway Merchandising Company made the booking through Miss Reeves . . . Juno. She . . .

“Does Juno always handle those details?”

“No, not always. Sometimes they go through Anton. You see, Juno is really the important one. She makes all the contacts and is persuasive enough to throw quite a few accounts to the agency.”

“I can see why,” I admitted with a grin.

She smiled back. “Our agency is perhaps the most exclusive in town. The models get paid more, are more in demand than any others, and all through Miss Reeves. A call from her is equal to a call from the biggest movie studio. In fact, she’s managed to promote several of the agency models right into pictures.”

“But to get back to the show . . .” I prompted.

“Yes . . . the call came in and Juno notified us at once. We had to report to Calway Merchandising to pick up the dresses we had to show and be fitted. That took better than two hours. One of the managers took us to the dinner where we sat through the speeches and what have you, and about an hour beforehand we left to get dressed. The show lasted for fifteen minutes or so, we changed back to our street clothes and joined the crowd. By that time drinks were being served and I managed to have a couple too many.”

“About meeting Wheeler, how’d you manage that?”

“I think it was when I left. I couldn’t make the elevator any too well. We got on together and he helped me down and into a cab. I told you the rest.”

There it was again. Nothing.

I pushed myself out of the chair and fiddled with my hat. “Thanks, kid. That cooks it for me, but thanks anyway. You can go back to bed now.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”

“Oh, it helps a little. At least I know what not to look for. Maybe I’ll be seeing you around.”

She walked ahead of me to the door and held it open. “Perhaps,” she said. “I hope the next time is under more pleasant circumstances.” We shook hands briefly and her forehead wrinkled. “Incidentally, Juno mentioned reporters. I hope . . .”

“They can’t make anything out of it as long as things stand that way. You can practically forget about it.”

“I feel better now. Good-by, Mr. Hammer.”

“So long, kid. See ya.”

I crouched behind the wheel of my car and made faces at the traffic coming against me. It was a mess to start with and got messier all the time. Murder doesn’t just happen. Not the kind of murder that gets tucked away so nicely not a single loose end stuck out.

Damn it anyway, where was a loose end? There had to be one! Was it money? Revenge? Passion? Why in hell did a nice guy like Wheeler have to die? Stinking little rats like Clyde ran around and did what they damn well pleased and a nice guy had to die!

I was still tossing it around in my mind when I parked along that residential street in the Bronx. The big sedan was in the driveway and I could make out the E.P. in gold Old English script on the door. I pulled the key out of the ignition and walked up the flagstone path that wound through the bushes.

This time I lifted the embossed knocker and let it drop.

A maid in a black and white uniform opened the door and stood with her hand on the knob. “Good morning. Can I help you?”

“I want to see Mr. Perry,” I said.

“Mr. Perry left orders that he is not to be disturbed. I’m sorry, sir.”

“You go tell Mr. Perry that he’s gonna get disturbed right now. You tell him Mike Hammer is here and whatever a guy named Rainey can do I can do better.” I grabbed the handle and pushed

the door and she didn’t try to stop me at all when she saw my face. “You go tell him that.”

I didn’t have long to wait. She came back, said, “Mr. Perry will see you in his study, sir,” waved her hand toward the far end of the hall and stood there wondering what it was all about as I walked past.