‘You mean Rico’s car?’ the man asked, and shook his head. ‘I didn’t notice it. The cop on the corner might have seen him. He’s been airing his corns for the past hour right there.’
‘Thanks,’ Dallas said, and went over to the patrolman, who looked as if his feet had taken root on the kerb. He eyed Dallas without interest as he came up. Dallas poked one of his cards at him. ‘Seen Rico’s Buick pass this way within the past twenty minutes?’
The cop read the card, nodded and handed it back. Purvis subscribed heavily to the police fund each year, and most of the cops played ball with the Agency.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I seen the little rat.’
‘Which way did he go?’
‘Turned right at the lights, and headed towards the river.’
Dallas felt a little chill run up his spine. He might have guessed that’s the way they’d go.
‘Thanks,’ he said, turned and ran back to his car. He drove rapidly along West Street, turned left at the next intersection, increased his speed along the broad, deserted dock road. A couple of miles of fast driving brought him to the river. Again he pulled to the kerb and got out. He spent ten minutes trying to find someone who had seen Rico’s car before he succeeded.
A red-headed street walker volunteered the information.
‘Sure, it was heading for the old causeway,’ she told Dallas, while she ogled him from under her hat-brim. ‘It’s Rico, isn’t it? I thought I recognised him. Why worry about him, sugar? Let’s you and me have fun.’
‘Some other night,’ Dal as said, scarcely hearing what she said. ‘I’ve got to find this guy.’
‘No accounting for taste,’ the girl said, shrugging her thin shoulders. The rain dripped off her umbrella on to her sandalled feet. ‘Me — I wouldn’t look for Rico if he was the last man on earth.’
Dallas got into his car and headed along the narrow causeway. He was sure now that Baird and Rico had brought Zoe here to murder her. Why else should they come down to the river? He felt responsible for Zoe, and he drove recklessly, refusing to accept what his common sense was telling him: if they were going to murder her, they would have done it by now.
Very soon he got completely lost in the narrow alleys that ran between the derelict warehouses. It became impossible to drive fast and, exasperated, he stopped the car and got out. Rain poured down on him as he swung the beam of his flashlight up at the high buildings. He cursed softly, wondering which way to go, when suddenly he heard the sharp bang of a heavy calibre gun.
The shot sounded close. As far as he could judge it came from a building a little way up the alley.
As he broke into a run, he knew he was too late to save Zoe, and he groped for his .38 police special.
He reached the end of the alley, paused to listen again, but heard nothing. It had been somewhere near here, he thought, looking up at the row of high buildings. Their doors were boarded up, and he guessed there must be an entrance somewhere at the back. He ran down the next alley he came to and reached an intersection that he calculated would bring him to the rear of the buildings he had just passed. Then he heard a car start up. He increased his speed and raced down the alley to another intersection. As he rounded the corner he was in time to see a big car moving swiftly away from him. Its parking lights lit up its bright yellow fenders.
It was moving too fast for him to hope to overtake it. He stopped, raised the .38 and fired. The smash of glass told him he had scored a hit. The car increased speed, and before he could fire again, it had whipped around a bend and had disappeared.
He stood there for a moment, trying to think what to do next. It would be hopeless to try to find Zoe’s body. They were certain to have dumped her into the river, but if he acted fast it might be possible to get the body before the currents took it away.
He raced back to his car, scrambled in, and drove as fast as he dared back along the causeway. There was no sign of the Buick. The delay in getting back to his car, finding his way to the causeway, had given Rico too big a lead to hope to overtake him.
Dallas spotted an all-night café at the corner of West and Union. He crammed on his brakes, swung the car to the kerb and ran across the sidewalk into the café.
The place was full of steamy moisture, the smell of frying onions and hot, strong Java. A dozen dockers sat around a big table playing dominoes and drinking beer. The red-headed street walker who had identified Rico’s car, was sitting on a high stool at the bar, showing off her legs in the hope of drumming up some trade. None of the dockers seemed interested. She smiled archly at Dallas when he came in, but he went past her like a miniature hurricane and dived into a phone booth at the end of the room.
He caught Olin as he was leaving for the night.
‘I can hand you Baird on a plate,’ he said urgently. ‘Listen: it’s a safe bet Baird’s just knocked off one of Rico’s taxi-dancers. Rico’s in it, too. They’ve slung her in the river. I spot ed their car leaving and took a shot at them. I think I smashed a window. If you get moving fast there’s a chance of recovering the body before the tide gets it.’
Olin knew Dallas didn’t make mistakes. He had worked with him a lot in the past, and to Dal as’s delight he didn’t waste time asking questions.
‘If you’re pul ing me out on a false alarm I’l slap a charge on you,’ Olin said. ‘Is this the McCoy?’
‘This isn’t a false alarm, George,’ Dallas said, and the grimness in his voice convinced Olin. ‘Get some boys and come down to West and Union fast.’
‘Stick where you are,’ Olin said. ‘I’l be right with you.’
Dallas hung up and went to the bar. He ordered a double Scotch.
‘Did you find him?’ the red-head asked, hitching up her skirt so he could see the top of her stocking.
The bartender leaned over the bar.
‘Hey, you! Take it outside and peddle it in the rain,’ he said, ‘or you’l get bounced out on your fanny.’
Dallas said, ‘Pipe down. She’s a friend of mine. Give her a Scotch.’
The red-head sneered at the bartender and gave a little wiggle inside her clothes for Dallas’s benefit.
‘Let’s get out of this hole,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a swell apartment you’l love.’
‘Drink your Scotch and shut up,’ Dal as said. He finished his drink, pat ed her on the shoulder and went out into the rain.
Four minutes later he heard the first of the sirens. In another minute West Street was alive with noise and black and white police cars.
Olin leaned out of the front car and waved to Dallas.
‘Wel , you’ve certainly started something,’ Olin said, as Dallas scrambled into the car. ‘I hope for your sake you can finish it. Let’s have it quick as we go.’
‘Make for Pinder’s End,’ Dal as told the driver, and while the car shot down West Street, he gave Olin his prepared story.
‘The girl’s name is Zoe Norton,’ he said rapidly. ‘She and I sleep together when we’ve nothing better to do. Nothing serious, but I like her and she likes me.’
‘Okay, okay,’ Olin said impatiently, ‘never mind about your love-life. Where’s Baird fit in this?’
‘I don’t know,’ Dal as lied. ‘I went to the club to see Zoe tonight. Like I told you, she works for Rico.
She was missing. She’d been in the club; her hat and coat were in her dressing-room, but she had disappeared. I found her bag in Rico’s office. He had vanished, too. I found out he and Baird had taken Rico’s car and had gone off together. I traced them to Pinder’s End on the waterfront. Then I lost them. I was nosing around when I heard a shot. I was in time to see Rico’s Buick driving away like a bat out of hell. I took a shot at it, and smashed one of the windows. It’s my bet Zoe found out something about those two and they’ve silenced her.’