With the door closed behind us, the lawyer sat down with a sigh and mopped his broad face with a white silk handkerchief.
“Perhaps you know I’ve been retained for Mrs. Travers’ defense.”
I got down a bottle and raised my eyebrows invitingly.
He shook his head regretfully. “I’m on a strict diet.” He folded his hands over his paunch and watched me down one.
When I set the glass down, he leaned forward and said: “I’ll be blunt with you, Barlow. The lady has told me her story — and I believe her.”
I sat down. “So what?”
“That remains to be seen,” he said softly.
“I’ve got an airtight alibi.”
He nodded, those bright eyes of his fixed on mine. “I supposed you would have.”
I poured myself another small snifter. Drank it and lit a cigarette with his eyes following my every movement as though they were important.
“The State’s Attorney gave me a clean bill of health,” I told him.
He nodded.
His silence was getting me. I walked up and down the room. “What the hell do you want?”
“Are you going to let an innocent woman go on trial for her life?”
“She deserves a medal for bumping Green.”
“Perhaps a medal is deserved. Not by my client.”
“They don’t convict good-looking dames of murder in Florida.”
He raised white eyebrows. “I’m not afraid of a conviction.”
“Then what are you squalling about?”
He looked away from me. Out the window. “I’ve already advised Mrs. Travers to plead guilty to justifiable homicide. The man threatened her again when she met him on the beach. He was insane with jealousy. He had a gun in a clip holster, and she knew he always carried one. There won’t be an indictment.”
“Why the hell were you throwing it at me about letting an innocent woman go on trial?”
“I was interested to know what your reactions would be.”
“To hell with it.” The guy was beginning to get on my nerves.
“Ah.” The smile went away from his face. “There are certain other interests involved...” he began.
“I’m tired and I’m not interested in anything you’ve got to say,” I broke in. “Suppose you do your speculating elsewhere.”
He got up, surprisingly agile for a man of his weight. He moved toward the door, turned to face me. “I believe I know why you found it necessary to eliminate Harry Green. I may keep the information to myself.” He went out the door while my jaw was hanging open stupidly.
I couldn’t, believe Blattscomb was hooked up with the gambling syndicate. The way I read it, Lucile must have blabbed everything and Blattscomb was feeling around to see how he could make the best use of his information.
It was up to me to get the jump on him by tearing the thing wide open before he made up his mind.
I called Pete and gave him the phone number the girl who called herself Cherry had given me that night at Lucile’s. He promised to call back with the address in half an hour. I’d already made up my mind to use the Walla Walla gag and visit the gambling house after dark. There was half a day to kill and I had a hunch Cherry would be worth culitvating — in more ways than one.
Chapter 10
The address took me to the Northeast Bay section of the city, an old stone mansion that had been cut up into housekeeping apartments when the boom busted in ’26.
There were letter boxes in the vestibule. Over one was the name, Cherry Smith. The number was twenty-two. I prowled up a wide stairway to the second floor and found number 22. Voices floated over an open transom. I flattened myself against the wall and listened.
A man: “Going high-hat on me, eh?”
The girclass="underline" (softly) “No.”
“Then why do you want to get rid of me the moment I’ve made the pay-off?”
“I’m tired, Stormy. And I’ll have to be up late tonight.”
“Too tired to be nice to me, eh?”
“Your kind of being nice is pretty strenuous, Stormy.”
Silence. Subdued scuffling inside the room. A man’s heavy breathing.
“That wasn’t so hard to take, was it?”
“Will you go now, Stormy?”
“But it wasn’t, was it?”
“I don’t like to be slobbered on.”
Another brief silence.
“You’re driving me nuts, Cherry.”
“You’re doing that to yourself.”
“Goddamn it! Hasn’t any man ever waked you up?”
“Not that way.”
“One of these days I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”
“Don’t come up here any more, Stormy.”
“Can’t stand the sight of me?”
“I’ve liked you until this afternoon. A lot.”
“Is that what you call liking a guy a lot?”
“As much as I’ve ever liked any man.”
“Nerts! Tell that to the Marines. A smooth number like you doesn’t grow up without knowing what it’s all about.”
“You’re spoiling everything by acting like this, Stormy.”
“Yeah? I should go on letting you play me for a fish and pretending to like it?”
“But I’m not playing you. I’m trying to be honest with you.”
“Why did you think I spoke up for you at first and kept you out of going into the regular racket like all the rest of the dames that can’t pay up?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Hell. I’m not. But you’re going to be sorry if you don’t make up your mind to do something about it.”
“I suppose you’ll assault me?”
“Damn your teasing little soul! That’s what you deserve.”
“I think you’d better go now.”
“Yeh. I’ll go. This time.” A chair scraping back. “I’ll take one kiss before I go.”
I moved away from the wall and down the hallway to a cross corridor. Standing out of sight, I heard the door open and slam violently shut. Heavy footsteps receded toward the stairs. I got a glimpse of a tall athletic figure with a gray fedora pulled low in front. Stormy went down the stairs and I waited two minutes, then walked casually to the door of 22 and knocked.
Cherry’s voice asked: “Who is it?”
I said, “Ed,” and turned the knob. The door opened and I went in. It was the tall, gray-eyed girl of the Axelrod tea. Her gray eyes were misted over and there wasn’t any sunlight to touch her brown hair to gold.
She stood in the center of the large room and looked at me. I closed the door and looked at her. The expression on her face made me pretty certain she was remembering our meeting at the tea. She wore a gray smock over a silk gown that had the sleeves rolled up. Waves of brown hair were fluffed out about her flushed face.
I put my hat down and said, conversationally: “I saw Stormy coming out. He looked mad enough to bite railroad spikes in two.”
She put her hands behind her on a center table, carefully, as though she needed support. “Who are you?”
“Ed Barlow.” I looked at her in surprise. “You’re Cherry, aren’t you?”
She nodded slowly. “I’m Cherry.”
It seemed to me that a hint of desperation lurked in her eyes. “Stormy didn’t see me,” I told her, “if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She shook her head. “I’m not worried about Stormy.”
“He’s plenty worried about you,” I told her breezily. “You’re the only girl he hasn’t bragged to me about.”
A little smile touched the corners of her mouth. It went away quickly. “I haven’t met you before.”
“I’m new at this end. Just getting squared around into harness.” I sat down and she remained standing.
“What... do you do?”
“This and that. Just now... with Lucy in the can for bumping Harry... I’m sort of taking care of her end.”