As he moved to the gates he caught sight of me. He turned back.
"Who's this guy?" he demanded. He had a flat squashed face, and eyes like a Chinaman.
Maxison explained I was his new assistant, and where O'Neil, the other assistant, had got to.
Franklin scratched his head. "Well, I dunno," he said. "I got instructions to let in only those people I know by sight. I've never seen this guy before. I guess I'd better call the sergeant."
"Skip it," one of the other cops said. "The sergeant's at breakfast. You don't want to make him mad for the rest of the day."
"Will you hurry?" Maxison asked, trying to stop his teeth from chattering. "I have a job to do. I'm late already."
Franklin stared at me with a worried frown. I leaned out of the car window, jerked my head at him. He came closer.
"Can't you rustle up a crap game?" I asked, keeping my
voice low. "The old man can do the work. I got money to lose."
He grinned suddenly, the frown went away. "To hell with that for an idea," he said. "Here, get out of the buggy."
I pulled the .38 from my waist-band as I pretended to fumble at the door. I shoved the gun to Maxison, who sat on it, his face turning a faint green.
I dropped on to the hot sandy road.
"Better make sure you're not heeled," Franklin said, but he was grinning all the time. "Then you can go in."
He ran his hands over my body. If he had told me to undo my overcoat I'd have been sunk, because he'd have seen the guard's uniform. But he didn't.
"Okay, hop in, and beat it," he said, stepping back.
I got into the hearse and slammed the door. My left hand reached under Maxison and retrieved the .38. I slipped it into my pocket. I felt a lot better with that gun within reach.
We drove through the gate into a courtyard. I saw the dogs then. They were massive brutes that strained at their chains when they saw us, snarling and showing their teeth. None of them barked. Their silent snarling made them look like wolves. I was glad to get past them.
We stopped outside a steel grill. Four or five guards paced up and down on the other side of the grill. Each carried a rifle. One of them opened up for us.
"Okay, Maxison," he said. "Go ahead. The doc's just finished."
I released the clutch and drove past the guard. I didn't look at him.
We were in.
5
The white-tiled post-mortem room was clean and cool. A strong smell of antiseptics hung in the air. The body of a woman lay on the porcelain table, partially covered by a coarse bleached sheet. Her shaved head rested in the hollow of a small wooden block. She didn't look human, but like a realistic waxwork in an exhibition of horrors.
The doctor, a small, pudgy man, clear-skinned and tanned, was washing his hands in the deep sink. Steam from the hot water dimmed his glasses.
"She's all yours," he said, glancing round. "The poor devil killed herself by swallowing powdered glass. I'd like to know where she got it from."
Somewhere in the jail a woman began to utter clear, high-pitched peals of mirthless laughter as though she were being tortured by having her feet tickled. The sound set my teeth on edge; it was shrill, like a pencil squeaking on a slate.
The doctor scowled, came towards us drying his hands.
"I'm going to report that woman," he said, irritably. "She shouldn't be here."
Neither Maxison nor I said anything. We stood around, looking at the doctor, then at the dead woman. I felt spooked.
"It's time Edna Robbins was kicked out of here," the doctor went on. "She's a sadist. I'm not saying she drove that woman crazy, but she couldn't have helped her."
He was addressing me, so I said, "Who's Edna Robbins?"
"The Head Wardress," he said, tossing the towel into a white enamelled receptable. "You're new here, aren't you?" He shook his head. "She's a bad lot. Well, I can't stay gossiping," he went on. "I'll let you have the death certificate. You can pick-it up at my office on your way back."
Maxison said he'd do that.
The doctor was crossing the room when the door opened and a woman came in. She was small, square-shouldered, and her blonde hair shone like brass. It was swept up to the top of her head, a tiny blue velvet bow holding it in place. She wore a black, smartly tailored dress relieved by white collars and cuffs.
"Finished ?" she said to the doctor. Her voice made me think of shiny steel rods.
He grunted, went away without looking at her.
She stared after him, chewing her thin under-lip, then nodded to Maxison.
"Get that body out as quickly as you can," she said. "I want Mitchell to clean up here."
"All right, Miss Robbins," Maxison said, giving her a scared look.
He hoisted the coffin on to the trestles he had already set up.
The woman sauntered over to the body on the table and stared down at it. There was something about her small, sharp face that gave me goose pimples. Her nose was small, her mouth almost lipless, and her eyes ice-blue. Her straight eyebrows shot up to her high forehead and gave her a devilish look.
She lifted the sheet and examined the doctor's large stitches
with interest. I couldn't take my eyes off her, and she looked up abruptly. Her eyes probed me. It was an odd feeling, as if she could see beyond my clothes.
"You're new here, aren't you?" she asked abruptly.
I nodded, "Sure," I said, and went on unpacking Maxison's bag. I took out his tool kit, took it over to rum.
"What's the matter with your mouth?" she said suddenly. "It looks swollen."
My tongue automatically touched the rubber pads, and I had a bad moment.
"A bee kissed me," I said, turning away from her. "I didn't think it showed."
I felt her eyes on me, then she walked across the room to the door.
"Make haste," she said to Maxison and went out.
I had been watching her as she crossed the room. She had narrow hips, and her legs were good. When the door closed behind her I straightened up, wiped off my face with my handkerchief.
"A nice little thing," I said, under my breath. "She knows how to use her eyes."
Maxison was also sweating. "She's dangerous," he said.
"I'll say," I agreed, and stepped over to the door. I opened it, peered into the passage. There was no one about. "Well, here goes," I went on, closing the door. I took off the long black overcoat and shoved it in the receptacle under the towel the doctor had used. I took off my spectacles and removed the rubber pads in my mouth. "You know what to do," I said to Maxison. "Get the false bottom out and hide it under the box. Take your time about preparing the body, but be ready to finish quick when I get back."
He nodded, his eyes popping.
"Watch your step, Maxison," I went on. "No funny business."
The mad woman upstairs began to laugh again, hysterical and unhurried. The sound gave me a chill down my spine.
I went to the door and peered into the passage again.
Mitchell was out there, waiting. He nodded to me.