Vengeance Is Mine

I took it as long as I could and got the hell out of the saloon and crossed the street to see what was taking Pat so long. There was a handful of people grouped around the body and the ambulance was gone. The car from the morgue had taken its place. Pat was bending over the body looking for identification without any success and had the light flashed on her face.

He handed one of the cops a note he fished out of her pocket and the cop scowled. He read, “He left me.” He scowled some more and Pat looked up at him. “That’s all, Captain. No signature, no name. That’s all it says.”

Pat scowled too and I looked at her face again.

The boys from the morgue wagon moved in and hoisted the body into a basket. Pat told them to put it in the unidentified file until they found out who she was.

I had a last look at her face.

When the wagon pulled away the crowd started to break up and I wandered off into the shadows that lined the street. The face, the face. Pale white to the point of transparency, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. I stood there leaning up against a plank wall staring at the night, hearing the cars and the trolley rattle across the bridge, hearing the cacophony of noises that go to make up the voice of the city.

I kept thinking of that face.

A taxi screamed past and slid to a stop at the comer. I backed up and a short fat figure speaking a guttural English shoved some bills in the driver’s hand and ran to the squad cars. He spoke to the cop, his arms gesticulating wildly; the cop took him to Pat and he went through the same thing again.

The crowd that had turned away turned back again and I went with them, hanging on the outside, yet close enough so I could hear the little fat man. Pat stopped him, made him start over, telling him to calm himself down first.

The fat man nodded and took the cigarette that was offered him but didn’t put it in his mouth. “The boat captain I am, you see?” He said. “The barges I am captain of. We go by two hours ago under the bridge and it is so quiet and peaceful then I sit on the deckhouse and watch the sky. Always I look up at the bridge when I go by. With my night glasses I look up to see the automobiles and marvel at such things as we have in this country.

“I see her then, you understand? She is standing there fighting and I hear her scream even. She fights this man who holds his hand over her mouth and she can’t scream. I see all this, you understand, yet I am not able to move or do a thing. On the barge we have nothing but the megaphone to call with. It happens so fast. He lifts her up and over and she goes into the river. First I thought she hit the last barge on the string and I run and shout quickly but it is not so. I must wait so long until I can get somebody to take me off the barge, then I call the police.

“The policeman, he told me here to come. You were here. The girl has already been found. That is what I have come to tell you. You understand?”

Pat said, “I understand all right. You saw this man she fought?” The guy bobbed his head vigorously.

“Could you identify him?”

Everyone’s eyes were on the little guy. He lifted his hands out and shrugged. “I could tell him from someone else . . . no. He had on a hat, a coat. He lifted this girl up and over she goes. No, I do not see his face for I am too excited. Even through the night glasses I could not see all that so well.”

Pat turned to the cop next to him. “Take his name and address. We’ll need a statement on it.”

The cop whipped out a pad and began taking it down. Pat prompted him with questions until the whole thing was straight then dismissed the batch of them and started asking around for other witnesses. The motley group hanging around watching didn’t feel like having any personal dealings with the police department for any reason at all and broke up in a hurry. Pat got that grim look, muttered something nasty and started across the street to where I was supposed to be.

I angled over and met him. “Nice corpse,” I said.

“I thought I told you to stay in the car. Those cops have you on their list.”

“So what. I’m on a lot of lists these days. What about the girl?”

“Unidentified. Probably a lovers’ quarrel. She had a couple of broken ribs and a broken neck. She was dead before she hit the water.”

“And the note . . . did the lover stuff that in her pocket before he threw her overboard?”

“You have big ears. Yes, that’s what it looks like. They probably argued previously, he invited her for a walk, then gave it to her.”

“Strong guy to mess her up like that, no?”

Pat nodded. I opened the door and he got in, sliding over so I could get behind the wheel. “He had to be to break her ribs.”

“Very strong,” I mused. “I’m not a weak sister myself and I know what it’s like to come up against one of those strong bastards.” I sat there and watched him.

A look of incredulity came over his face. “Now wait a minute. We’re on two different subjects, feller. Don’t try to tell me that he was the same . . .”

“Know who she was, Pat?”

“I told you she was unidentified at present. She had no handbag but we’ll trace her from her clothes.”

“That takes time.”

“Know a better way?”

“Yeah,” I said. “As a matter of fact I do.” I reached behind the seat and dragged out an envelope. It was crammed with pictures and I dumped them into my lap. Pat reached up and turned on the overhead light. I shuffled through them and brought out the one I was looking for.

Pat looked a little sick. He glanced at me then back to the picture. “Her name is Jean Trotter, Pat. She’s a model at Anton Lipsek’s agency. Several days ago she eloped.”

I thought he’d never stop swearing. He fanned out the pictures in his hand and squinted at them with eyes that blazed hot as the fires of hell. “Pictures. Pictures. Goddamn it, Mike, what are we up against? Do you know what that burned stuff was that you found in Emil Perry’s house?”

I shook my head.

“Pictures!” he exploded. “A whole mess of burned photographs that didn’t show a thing!”

The steering wheel started to bend under my fingers. I jammed my foot on the starter and roared away from the curb. Pat looked at the picture again in the light of the dash. His breath was coming fast. “We can make it official now. I’ll get the whole department on it if I have to. Give me a week and we’ll have that guy ready to face a murder trial.”

I glowered back at him. “Week hell, all we have is a couple of hours. Did you trace that piece of fabric I gave you?”

“Sure, we traced it all right. We found the store it came from . . . over a year ago. It was from a damn good suit the owner remembered selling, but the guy had no recollection for faces. It was a cash transaction and he didn’t have a record of the size or any names or addresses. Our killer is one smart Joe.”

“He’ll trip up. They all do.”

I cut in and out of traffic, my foot heavy on the accelerator. On the main drag I was lucky enough to make the lights and didn’t have to stop until I was in front of the Municipal Building. I said, “Pat, use your badge and check the marriage bureau for Jean Trotter’s certificate. Find out who she eloped with and where she was married. Since I can’t show my nose you’ll have to do this on your own.”

“Where’ll you be?”

I looked at my watch. “First I’m going to see what I can get on the girl myself. Then I’m going to stop a seduction scene before it starts.”

Pat was still trying to figure that one out when I drove off. I looked in the rear-vision mirror and saw him pocket the photograph and walk away up the street.

I stopped at the first drugstore I came to and had a quarter changed into nickels then pushed a guy out of the way who was getting into the booth. He was going to argue about it until he saw my face then he changed his mind and went looking for another phone. I dropped the coin in and dialed Juno’s number. I was overanxious and got the wrong number. The second time I hit it right, but I didn’t get to speak to Juno. Her phone was connected to one of those service outfits that take messages and a girl told me that Miss Reeves was out, but expected home shortly. I said no, I didn’t want to leave a message and hung up.