Eddie lifted his shoulders in despair.
“What we want around here is a woman.”
“And that’s what you’re not going to have,” Ma said coldly, “Get going, Woppy. I want my dinner.”
Eddie had taken the card he had picked up from under his watch strap. He read the address again. He thought of the girl. He decided he’d call on her that night. He turned the card and noticed for the first time there was a message written on it.
He read the message, then with a startled curse, he jumped to his feet. Written in a feminine hand were the words: What have you done with Frankie Riley?
Chapter eight
As a street clock was striking eleven, the Buick slid to a standstill near the Palace Hotel. Eddie and Flynn got out, leaving Woppy at the wheel.
“Stick around,” Eddie said. “If you see any cops, move off, but keep circling. We may need you in a hurry.”
“Rather you than me,” Woppy said and stuck a cigarette on his lip.
Eddie and Flynn walked quickly down the street to the hotel entrance. It wasn’t much of a place. They walked into the lobby which was empty. Behind the desk dozed a fat, elderly man in his shirt sleeves. He blinked open his eyes as Eddie came up.
“You want a room?” the man asked hopefully, getting to his feet.
“No. Who’s in 243?” Eddie asked curtly.
The man stiffened.
“Can’t give you information like that,” he said.
“You’d better call around tomorrow morning and ask at the desk.”
Flynn took out his gun and shoved it into the man’s face.
“You heard what the guy said, didn’t you?” he snarled.
The man’s face went white at the sight of the gun. With trembling hands, he thumbed through the register. Eddie snatched it from him. He ran his finger quickly down the list of numbers.
“Anna Borg,” he said when he arrived at № 243. “Who’s she?” He noted the rooms either side of 243 were vacant.
Flynn slid the gun in his hand and held it by the barrel. He reached forward and clubbed the man on top of his head. The man slid down behind the counter. Eddie craned his neck to look at him.
“You shouldn’t have hit him that hard,” he said. “He looks like a family man. Better tie him up.”
Flynn went around and tied the man’s hands behind him with the man’s tie. Leaving him behind the counter, they walked over to the elevator and rode up to the second floor.
“You stay here,” Eddie said, “and watch the stairs. I’ll call on the dame.”
He started off down the passage, looking for room 243.
He found it at the far end of the passage. He listened, his ear against the door panel. Then he drew his gun and stepped into the dark room. He shut the door, groped for the light switch and turned it on.
He looked around. The small room was empty and untidy. Clothes were scattered on the bed and chair. He recognized the yellow dress the girl had been wearing hanging over the chair back. The dressing table was crowded with cosmetic bottles. The contents of a large powder box had been tipped onto the carpet. When he was satisfied no one was in the room and there was nowhere for anyone to hide, he opened drawers but found nothing to interest him. He wondered where the girl had got to. He left the room, shutting the door and joined Flynn at the head of the stairs. “She isn’t around.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Flynn said. “The room next to hers is empty,” Eddie said. “We’ll wait in there. She may come back.”
“How about the guy downstairs? What happens if someone finds him?”
“I’ll worry about that when he’s found,” Eddie said. “Come on.”
They went silently down the passage to room 241, opened the door and entered. Eddie left the door open a couple of inches. He stood by the door while Flynn went and lay on the bed.
Minutes dragged by. Then just when he was beginning to think he was wasting his time, Eddie heard a sound that alerted him and brought Flynn off the bed and to the door. Both men peered through the crack in the door.
The door exactly opposite room 243 was opening slowly. A girl appeared and looked up and down the passage. Eddie recognized her immediately: she was the blonde he had seen in the street. Before he could make up his mind what to do, she had come out, shut the door and then had run across the passage and into room 243. They heard the door shut and the key turn.
“That the dame?” Flynn asked, breathing hard down Eddie’s neck. “Yeah.”
“Nice,” Flynn said. “What’s she been up to?”
Eddie opened the door wide and moved into the passage.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. You go to the stairs.”
Flynn went off down the passage.
Eddie crossed to the opposite door. He turned the handle and pressed. The door opened. He looked into darkness. He listened, heard nothing. He entered the room.
He turned on the light switch, then he caught his breath sharply. A short fat man lay on the floor. Blood was running from a wound in his head. He had been shot. Eddie didn’t have to go closer to see the man was dead.
Chapter nine
Ma Grisson had been brooding for some time. There was an expression on her face that warned Doc Williams not to bother her. Doc was playing solitaire. He kept looking at Ma, wondering what was going on in her mind. After a while her stillness got on his nerves and he put down his cards.
“Is there anything worrying you, Ma?” he asked cautiously.
“You get on with your game and leave me alone,” Ma growled.
Doc lifted his shoulders. He got up and went to the front door, opened it and looked into the moonlit darkness. Lighting a cigar, he sat on the top step.
Ma suddenly got to her feet as if she had finally made up her mind. She went over to a cupboard and took from it a length of rubber hose.
Doc heard her movements and he looked around. He saw her climbing the stairs and he saw the rubber hose in her hand. He wondered vaguely what she was doing with it.
Ma Grisson went along the passage to the front room. She unlocked the door and entered the room. It was a small room. The window was covered with planks. There was only a chair, a small table and a mirror on the wall in the room. The threadbare carpet was dirty.
Ma shut the door and looked at Miss Blandish who was sitting up in bed, her eyes wide with alarm. In place of a nightgown she was wearing her slip. Ma sat on the bed. The springs sagged under her great weight.
“I’ve something to say to you,” she said. “Have you ever been hit with a thing like this?” She held up the rubber hose.
Miss Blandish shook her head. She had just woken up out of a troubled sleep. This visit seemed a continuation of her nightmare.
“It hurts,” the old woman said. She hit Miss Blandish on her knee. Although the blanket absorbed some of the blow, it stung. Miss Blandish stiffened. The sleepy look went out of her eyes. She struggled up in bed, clenching her fists; her eyes flashing angrily.
“Don’t you dare touch me again!” she said breathlessly.
Ma Grisson grinned. Her big white teeth made her look wolfish and strangely like her son.
“So what would you do?”
She grabbed Miss Blandish’s wrists in one of her huge hands. She sat grinning as the girl wrenched and pulled in a useless attempt to get free.
“Don’t kid yourself,” Ma said. “I may be old, but I’m much stronger than you. Now I’m going to take some of the starch out of you. Then we’ll have a talk.”
Downstairs, Doc, still sitting on the step, saw Woppy get out of the Buick and come towards him.
“Eddie back yet?” Woppy asked.
“No. What’s happened?”
Woppy pushed past Doc and went into the sitting room. Doc followed him. Woppy picked up a bottle, held it up to the light, then threw it across the room in disgust.