“So I released Cal and we went looking for Lane,” Clyde continued. “And of course we couldn’t find him. I’d already called the car rental agency in the capitol and found out that the clerk there had identified your picture of Lane. On a hunch I decided to drive toward the city.”
“Lane gave us the rest of the story on the way back here,” Clyde began after another sip of his coffee.
“About two years ago Lane was in Akron for a convention. Thelma was working at the hotel where he stayed. She recognized him and made herself known. Lane admitted he’d never divorced her. She’d disappeared soon after the wedding, Lane went overseas, and by the time he got back he’d almost forgotten about marrying her. And since no one knew of the marriage he ignored it. By then he’d met the future Mrs. Lane, of course, so he was even more eager to forget Thelma. Soon after he saw Thelma in Akron she began blackmailing him. This went on about two years and it began to get a little difficult for him to give her the sums she demanded. He kept stalling on her last demand. She threatened to come down here and he told her to come ahead. He’d be waiting for her in a car at the bus station. By then, of course, he’d decided the only thing to do was to kill her. He left early Sunday for the convention in Cincinnati, checked in there at the hotel, then caught the bus to the capitol where he rented the car, using fake credentials he’d fixed up. By seven-fifteen Monday morning he was waiting at the bus station for Thelma. He drove out to the Banning farm. She thought they were going to talk things over. The house was locked up so they went out to the barn. He strangled her, threw her body into the silo, and tossed some loose straw from the barn in on top of her. Then he drove back to the capitol, turned the car in, and caught the bus back to Cincinnati. He figured the body’d be safe in the silo until he could come back and bury her somewhere on the farm. But he didn’t know about Clem’s lease.”
“He knew Matt had got Thelma and the car in the background of one of the pictures Matt took that morning but since he figured her body’d never be discovered he didn’t worry about it.”
“And if he hadn’t gotten panicky and tried to steal the picture we’d never have dreamed I had it,” I added.
“Lane thought he was in the clear with Cal’s arrest,” Clyde continued. “He thought the picture would be ignored now. He knew we’d sent a man to Columbus but he was sure we’d never connect him with the car. But then he happened to see you and Anita heading out of town this afternoon. He decided to follow you to see where you were going. When you kept on towards the city he kept behind you all the way.”
“Then I suppose he saw us enter the car rental agency?” I asked.
Clyde nodded. “And saw you come out. You were carrying a package and by your expressions he was sure the clerk had identified his picture.”
“I’ll bet this beats New York excitement,” I said to Anita as we left Clyde’s office. She nodded in agreement.
“I think I’ve had about all the excitement I’ll need for awhile.”
“Say, what is this,” I countered. “Aren’t you eager to get back to gay, mad New York?”
She smiled sweetly at me. “Not right now, Matt. We’ll give it another week and then we’ll see.”
Suddenly I felt about ten years younger. I had a hunch that other week would be a long one, and that Anita wouldn’t be going back to New York for a long, long time.
Wrath
by Peter Brandt
The act was vicious and violent. The vengeance was bitter-sweet.
The bar was empty.
The customers were either at the tables or in the hard-backed chairs on either side of the bandstand. Most of them were young and very serious and they listened quietly to the musicians. There was no dancing.
Three men came in and sat down at the bar. All three wore pinstripe suits that were a size too small. Two of the men were short and heavy set. The other was tall and well built. There was a constant twitch in his left eye. He ordered three old fashioneds.
“What the hell, Carl,” said one of the men. “What kind of spook joint is this?”
Carl’s eye twitched rapidly. “Take it easy, Rocco. The smog’s getting you.”
The other man laughed. Rocco grunted.
“Besides,” said Carl. “This is the only joint in town where you can get a decent drink.” He nodded towards the bartender. “Joseph comes from Milan. He makes a real drink.”
Joseph smiled and set the old fashioneds on the bar.
“Here’s to business,” said Carl. They drank.
“Not bad,” said the other man. He had short kinky hair and he wore horn-rimmed glasses.
“The liquor’s okay,” said Rocco. “But I wish to hell I was out of L.A. and back in K.C. listening to real jazz. This cool stuff turns my stomach.”
“You mean you miss that dumb broad of yours.”
“Shut up, Frank.”
Carl stuck a cigar in his mouth and Joseph fired it with a silver lighter and moved off to the other end of the bar.
“You’ll both forget Kansas City when this blonde chick comes out to sing.”
Rocco nodded eagerly. “Nice stuff, huh?”
Carl blew a smoke ring. “Long blonde hair and a sharp figure. Yeah, she’s a nice package.”
Rocco licked his lips. “You know, Carl, I’m real hot for a dame.”
“That’s why we’re here.”
Frank scowled. “Lay off the women. We got a business deal to talk over.”
“Pipe down, Frank. What do you say, Carl? Do we meet her?”
Carl studied his reflection very seriously in the mirror behind the bar. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“That’s swell. And lay off me, Frank. Pleasure first and then we talk deals.”
Frank laughed contemptuously, but said nothing.
The three men ordered another round of drinks. And then another. They were feeling very good. They laughed at each other’s jokes. A few of the jazz lovers gave them cold stares and then turned hastily away when they saw Rocco.
Carl turned on the bar stool as a tall, extremely thin man approached them. He had a large hawklike nose that gave him the look of a carnivorous bird.
“Hello, Carl.”
“Evening, Harv. Meet a couple friends of mine from back East. Rocco Cavoli and Frank Misano. Boys, this is Harvey Dunn. He runs The Black Cat.”
Harvey smiled and stuck out a bony hand. It remained empty. Rocco and Frank looked at him without smiling.
“Nice place,” said Rocco.
“Say, Harv...” Carl leaned forward with a confidential air. “You know this chick you got singing here. Well, the boys would like to meet her.”
“You mean Cathy Rain? I don’t know, Carl. There isn’t suppose to be any fraternizing between patrons and employees.”
Carl nodded. “Yeah. That’s the way it is. We want a nice table ringside. And after she finishes a set you introduce us to the chick.”
“But, Carl...” Harvey Dunn pulled his nose with a nervous gesture.