Scarcely breathing, Susan whipped back into Fresby’s room. “It’s the man in the black shirt,” she gasped. “He’s coming here. Hide me! Quick! He mustn’t find me here!”
Fresby’s face contracted. He just sat staring at her stupidly, his brain refusing to work.
Susan looked wildly round the room and then darted to a big cupboard that stood at the far end of the room. She threw the door open. Inside, hanging on a nail was Fresby’s hat and coat. There was plenty of room and she stepped inside and closed the door.
Fresby remained motionless, his mind confused and alarmed. The cupboard door had scarcely shut when Butch walked in.
“Hello, Jack,” he said, looking at Fresby with cold, searching eyes. “All alone?”
Fresby grunted and opening a drawer in his desk he took out a pipe and a shabby tobacco pouch. He began to fill his pipe slowly and carefully. It gave him time to recover his nerve.
Butch leaned against the wall, pushed his hat over his nose and seemed in no hurry to begin a conversation.
‘What do you want?” Fresby asked, without looking at him. “I’ve got nothing for you.”
“Who’s Susan Hedder?” Butch asked softly.
Fresby lit his pipe, stared at the burning tobacco and blew a thin jet of smoke in Butch’s direction. His brain was functioning again. He’d have to be careful. Rollo’s gang was dangerous to monkey with.
“Susan who?” he asked to gain more time.
“Hedder,” Butch returned. “Don’t stall, Jack. You know who I mean.”
Fresby shook his head. “I don’t,” he said. “Hedder, eh? That’s a name I ought to remember. Who is she?”
“That’s what I’m asking you,” Butch returned. He slouched across the room and sat down. “Come on, Jack, you don’t want to get in bad with us”, do you?”
Fresby shook his head. “I’m not kidding, Mike,” he said. “I’ve never heard of the girl. Mind you, I get a lot of girls in this office. I can’t remember all their names, but Hedder doesn’t ring a bell.”
Butch stared at him thoughtfully. “You sent her along to Marsh for a job at the Club,” he said.
So Marsh’s blown the gaff,” Fresby thought. All right, he’d fix him for that.”
He’d tell Marguerite about Joan. If he got out of this mess with a whole skin, he’d fix that damn little rat!
“That wasn’t Susan Hedder,” he said, looking at Butch with calculated surprise. “Her name was Betty - Betty something or other. Now let me think. Betty Freeman. Yes that’s the name she gave me.”
He congratulated himself that he had put that over pretty smoothly. Anyway, Butch didn’t seem to think he was lying.
“All right, Susan Hedder or Betty Freeman. I don’t care what she called herself. Who is she?”
Fresby shrugged. “How do I know?” he said. “Girls come here. I get ‘em jobs if I can. I don’t ask questions. It doesn’t pay in this game. So long as they settle my bill, why should I want to know who they are?”
Butch took out a packet of Camels, lit one and put the packet away again. He stared round the room with blank eyes.
“You’d better not lie,” he said at last, but Fresby could see he had lost confidence. “Marsh said you put a lot of pressure on him to get the girl the job.”
Fresby chuckled. “I did,” he said, “the rotten little pimp!” The girl wanted the job and she offered me twenty-five quid to fix her up. She wouldn’t take anything else. That’s a good fee, Mike, so I oiled the works to get her in.”
The two men stared at each other for a long time and then Butch got up.
“So you don’t know who she is or where I can find her?”
Fresby shook his head. “Anything wrong?”
“I don’t know yet. If she doesn’t turn up tonight there’ll be a lot wrong. If she does, maybe it don’t matter. “ He turned to the door. “ Find out who she is, Jack,” he went on. “Rollo’ll pay you a hundred quid for the right information. Somehow I don’t think she’ll turn up tonight. We want her bad. I’ll come and see you again.”
Fresby nearly glanced towards the cupboard, but then he remembered the letter lying at the bank waiting to betray him.
He stared down at the floor, his mind seething with fury and greed. To think there was a hundred quid in that cupboard and he couldn’t get at it.
“That’s dough,” he said, glancing up. “What’s Rollo paying out money like that for?”
“Never mind,” Butch said, opening the door. “And the next time you ship a dame into the club without asking me, I’ll fix you good. I shan’t tell you a second time.”
Fresby grinned uneasily. “I shan’t do it a second time. All right, Mike. Leave this to me. I’ll find her if I can.”
Butch grunted and went out, closing the door behind him.
Fresby relaxed in his chair, listening. He heard Butch go down the stairs, but even then he did not call to Susan. His mind was fully awake now. If Rollo was willing to pay a hundred pounds to get hold of this girl, it was obvious that there was a lot of money involved. The whole business revolved round the body in the trunk. Rollo wanted it. No doubt that was why he was so anxious to get hold of Susan. Well, Fresby had Susan and he was also being offered the body.
Surely there must be some way for him to capitalize on this set-up?
The cupboard door opened and Susan came out, very white and shaky.
Fresby looked at her and smiled. “Did you hear?” he said. “Well, it’s all right. From now on you and me’ll work together on this. I’ve got an idea. I know now where I can hide the body.”
There was an ominous silence in Rollo’s office. Celie stood behind Rollo in her usual place by the empty fireplace.
Rollo sat at his desk and Butch leaned against the wall near the door.
“She must have been a plant,” Rollo said suddenly. “It’s half-past seven and she hasn’t come. That boy Joe must have planted her here.”
“Yeah,” Butch said, “that’s how it looks.” He glanced beyond Rollo at Celie.
“The girl I nearly caught was slight, blonde, about twenty-one, round face, small nose.” Rollo went on. “Is that like the girl Marsh engaged?”
Butch grunted. “That’s her. If it hadn’t been for the copper I’d’ve caught her.”
“Well, we’ve got to find her, Mike,” Rollo said. “She knows something. She must know something. Get Marsh up here.”
“Sure,” Butch said, and heaving himself away from the wall, he slouched from the room.
Rollo reached out and took a cigar from the box on his desk. “Doc’s worrying me.”
“Gilroy says he’s dead,” Rollo announced as if speaking his thoughts aloud.
“How does he know?”
Celie swung round. “Stop it!” she exclaimed hysterically. “I’m not interested in that old fool!”
The door opened and Butch came in followed by Marsh.
Butch looked at Celie, saw her frantic expression and his mouth tightened.
He had come back just in time, he decided.
She would blow her top if he didn’t take her aside and quieten her.
“Here he is,” he said, jerking his thumb at Marsh.
Rollo leaned forward. “Has this Hedder girl come?”
Marsh cringed back. His fat face was like a lump of putty. “No, sir,” he said.
“I—I can’t think—I don’t know . . .” he stopped and put his hand to his mouth. “It’s not my fault,” he went on. “I don’t know anything about her. Jack Fresby wanted her to have the job. It’s his fault.”