“Well, yes, I guess that’s so, but nothing’s going to happen to Tootsie. I know nothing will happen to Tootsie.”
Jean smiled again. “I’m glad to hear you say so,” she said, and hung up. She lay thinking for a long time, then she picked up the telephone and called a number.
Someone asked roughly what she wanted.
“I want to speak to Raven,” she said softly. “Yes, tell him it’s Jean Mendetta. Yes, he’ll speak to me all right,” and she lay back, an amused smile on her mouth, waiting for Raven to come to the phone.
7
June 5th, 11.20 a.m.
JAY TOOK a taxi to the east side of the town. He was feeling pleased with himself. As soon as he had reached the office he had got Gerald Fisher on the phone and asked him about the scene Rogers had told him about.
Fisher remembered it quite well. “What do you want to know about that for?” he asked suspiciously.
“I want to find the guy who made the scene,” Jay said. “He might have an important bearing on a big case we’re working on now. I don’t say he has, but there is just the chance. I was hoping you might help me.”
“As a matter of fact, I do know him. He used to be one of my clerks. That was why I was so surprised to see him at the 22nd Club. His name’s Fletcher. Do you want his address? I could get it for you.”
“Sure, that’s just what I do want.”
“Just a moment, then.” Jay heard Fisher say something, then he came on the line again. “They’re looking it up. We’ve got in on record, I know.”
“He doesn’t work with you any more?”
“Good God, no! I couldn’t have a fellow in my office like that. He made a frightful fool of himself. He had to be tossed out. I gave him the sack next morning.”
“What was the trouble, Mr. Fisher?” Jay asked.
“I don’t know. He must have been drunk. He kept on yelling about his sister. I mean to say, that sort of thing isn’t done at the 22nd. No, I had to get rid of him.”
Jay grinned. “Sure,” he said.
“Ah, here’s the address.”
Jay wrote it down, thanked Fisher, and hung up. He thought maybe he was going on a fool’s errand, but it was worth trying, anyhow.
The taxi drew up outside a large tenement house. The driver said apologetically, “This is it, boss.”
Jay got out and paid him off. He walked up the steps and rang on the bell. The place was dirty and horribly sordid. He felt people watching him behind ragged curtains all down the street.
An old woman, very dirty, with a sack for an apron, opened the door and looked at him suspiciously.
Jay raised his hat. “Mr. Fletcher in?” he asked.
“He’s on the top floor. You can go up.” She stood aside to let him in. “You tell that guy to pay his rent. I’m gettin’ sick of askin’ him myself.”
Jay ignored her and went up the stairs. A big negro lounged against the wall on the first landing and looked at him insolently. As Jay passed he spat on the floor.
On the top floor a large fat woman sat just outside her door, peeling potatoes. Jay asked her where Fletcher’s room was. She jerked her thumb to a door without saying anything.
Jay rapped on the door and pushed it open.
A man lay on a dirty mattress. He’d got a three days’ growth of beard, and Jay saw he was blind in one eye.
He sat up, a scared look on his face, as Jay entered.
“What do you want?” he said. He had quite a cultured voice.
Jay looked round the dirty room and grimaced. “I’m Ellinger of the St. Louis Banner. I want to talk to you, pal,” he said.
Fletcher got off the bed. “I don’t want to talk to anyone,” he said.
Jay thought he looked horribly thin. He began to cough and he had to sit on the bed again.
Jay pulled up a rickety chair and sat down too. “Listen, Fletcher, don’t fly off the handle. You’re lookin’ in a bad shape. I might be able to help you.”
When he had stopped coughing, Fletcher said rather wildly, “Look what they did!”pointing to his eye.
“They did that. Threw me down a flight of stone steps. One of the heels hit me in my eye with his elbow.”
Jay lit a cigarette. He didn’t like the smell of dirt in the room. “That’s what I’ve come to see you about,” he said. “What’s it all about? If I can help you I will.”
Fletcher looked at him suspiciously. “Why?” he demanded. “Why should you want to help me?”
“Now don’t get that way. Been out of a job some time, haven’t you? Now come on, spill it.”
“It’s Janet,” Fletcher began. Then suddenly his thin face crumpled and he began to cry.
Jay pushed his hat to the back of his head and blew out his cheeks. He was very embarrassed. “What you want is a drink,” he said. “You wait. I’ll get you one.”
Fletcher controlled himself with an effort. “No, don’t go away,” he said. “I’m all right. I guess I’m sort of low. I haven’t had much grub.”
“Well, come on. I’ll buy you a lunch.” Jay got up. Fletcher shook his head. “Not now. Later, perhaps, but I want to tell you.” Jay sat down again. “Go ahead,” he said. “It’s my sister, Janet. She went away one morning to work and she didn’t come back. I’ve hunted everywhere. I’ve told the police, but they can’t find her.”
Jay sighed. He knew there were a lot of girls in St. Louis who went out and didn’t come back any more.
“Maybe she went off and got married. Maybe she thought she’d like to go to Hollywood. There’re a lot of girls who suddenly get a bug in their conks and beat it without telling anyone.”
Fletcher looked up. His one eye burnt fiercely. “You don’t believe that rubbish, do you?” he said. “That’s what the police said.”
Jay shifted. “Well, what else could have happened to her? You don’t think she’s dead, do you?”
“I wish to God she was!” He beat his fist on his knee. “The Slavers have got her!” he shouted. “Do you hear? The Slavers have got her.”
“You don’t know that. You only think they have. There ain’t much of that stuff going on now. We’ve cleaned it up.”
“You’re wrong. It’s going on every day of the year. Decent girls leaving their homes and being trapped.
Decent girls forced into brothels. Any amount of them. And there’s nothing done about it. The police know all about it, but they keep their mouths shut. Anyone who gets to know about it is given money to keep his mouth shut.”
“You can’t talk like that unless you’ve got some proof. Why did you kick up that row at the 22nd Club?”
“Can’t you guess? Grantham’s working the racket.”
“You’re crazy. Grantham? Don’t talk bull.”
Fletcher lay back on his elbow. “I’ve been watching him,” he said. “One night, when the Club was closed, I saw a car draw up outside the Club. The street was empty. No one saw me. They took a girl out of the car. She had a rug over her head. Just as she got to the door she got the rug off and she screamed. They hit her on the head with something. They hit her very hard. I could hear the sound very distinctly from where I was standing. Then they carried her inside. You don’t think anything of that? Well, I’ll tell you some more.” There was a crazy gleam in his eye. “Another night I got on the roof. You’ve never been on the top floor of the Club, have you? Nor have I. But I’ve been on the roof. I’ve listened, lying on the tiles with my ear close to the roof, listening. I’ve heard things. I’ve heard girls screaming. I’ve heard the crack of whips. I’ve heard a lot of horrible things.”
Jay was interested now. “You’re sure of all this?” he said.
Fletcher leant forward and grabbed his coat lapels. “Do you think I’d make it up? Don’t you realize what all this means? My sister was one of those girls. She was taken into that place. They beat her until she was willing to do what they wanted. She’s somewhere in this town, selling her body to anyone who’ll pay for it. Do you hear? And everyone sits around, blast them, and tells me that it couldn’t happen here. That this town’s been cleaned up. And it’s going on now… now… now!”