Eddie was in bed, reading the Sunday comics.
“Hi, you misbegotten freaks!” he said cheerfully. “What’s cooking?”
Flynn sat on the foot of the bed. Woppy straddled a chair, laying his fat arms along the back.
“We’re collecting the dough tomorrow night,” Woppy said. “The ad’s in the Tribune.”
“A million bucks!” Eddie said, lying back on the dirty pillow. “Think of it! At last, we’re in the money!”
“What are you going to do with your cut when you get it?” Woppy asked.
“I’m going to buy an island in the South Seas,” Eddie said, “and I’m going to stock it with beautiful girls in grass skirts.”
Woppy laughed, slapping his fat thigh.
“You and your women! Me, I’m going to start a restaurant. My spaghetti’s going to be world famous.”
Flynn, who had been listening, his vicious face disinterested, suddenly asked, “What’s going on in the girl’s room, Eddie?”
Eddie stopped laughing and stared at Flynn.
“What do you mean?”
“What I say. I’m in the room next to hers and I hear things. Doc goes in there. I’ve seen him with a hypo. Slim sneaks in there too. He was in there from eleven last night to four in the morning.”
Eddie threw the sheet off and got out of bed. “What do you mean — a hypo?”
“You heard me. Doc had a hypo in his hand when he went into her room. Do you think he’s drugging her?”
“Why should he?”
“I don’t know — I’m asking you. Why does Slim go in there?”
Eddie started to throw on his clothes.
“Slim! You don’t think that poisonous moron has ideas about the girl, do you?”
“I tell you I don’t know, but Ma’s goddamn touchy when I mention the girl.”
“I’m going to talk to her,” Eddie said. “I’m not standing for Slim relieving his repressions on that girl. There’s a limit, and goddamn it, that would be the limit!”
“You’d better not,” Woppy said in alarm. “Ma won’t like it. Better keep out of it.”
Eddie ignored him; to Flynn he said, “Watch the stairs. Give me a tip if it looks like Ma’s coming up.”
“Sure,” Flynn said and went out into the passage. He leaned over the banister.
Eddie ran a comb through his hair, put on a tie, then went quickly down the passage to Miss Blandish’s room. The key was in the lock. He turned it and entered the room.
Miss Blandish lay flat on her back on the bed, covered by a grimy sheet. She was staring up at the ceiling.
Eddie closed the door and went over to her.
“Hello, baby,” he said. “How are you getting on?”
Miss Blandish didn’t seem to know he was in the room. She continued to stare up at the ceiling.
Eddie put his hand on her shoulder and shook her gently.
“Wake up, baby,” he said. “What’s going on?”
Slowly, she turned her head and stared at him. Her eyes were blank: the pupils enormously enlarged.
“Go away,” she said, her words blurred.
He sat on the bed.
“You know me — I’m Eddie,” he said. “Wake up! What’s going on?”
She closed her eyes. For several minutes he watched her, then suddenly she began to speak. Her low, lifeless voice was like a medium in a trance talking.
“I wish I was dead,” she said. “They say nothing matters once you are dead.” There was another long pause, while Eddie frowned down at her, then she went on. “Dreams... nothing but horrible dreams. There’s a man who comes here, who seems very real, but he doesn’t really exist. He is tall and thin and he smells of dirt. He stands over me and talks. I don’t understand what he is saying.” She moved under the sheet as if its weight was unbearable to her. There was again a long pause of silence, then she went on, “I pretend to be dead. I want to scream when he comes in, but if I did, he would know I was alive. He stands for hours by me, mumbling.” Then suddenly she screamed out, “Why doesn’t he do something to me?”
Eddie started back, sweat on his face. The awful tone of her scream frightened him. He looked towards the door, wondering if Ma had heard her.
Miss Blandish relaxed again. She was muttering now, moving her body uneasily, her hands twisting the sheet.
“I wish he would do something to me,” she said. “Anything is better than having him standing hour after hour at my side, talking. I wish he would do something to me...”
Flynn poked his head around the door.
“You’d better get out of here. What’s she yelling about?”
Eddie shoved him out of the room and shut and locked the door. He wiped his sweating face with the back of his hand.
“What’s going on in there?” Flynn demanded.
“Something pretty bad,” Eddie said. “She’d be better off dead.”
“Nobody’s better off dead,” Flynn said sharply. “What do you mean?”
Eddie went back to his room. Flynn trailed along behind him.
As Eddie entered, Woppy looked up at him, startled by his bleak expression.
“Get out of here!” Eddie snarled and went over to his bed and lay down on it.
Woppy went quickly out of the room. He looked blankly at Flynn who shrugged his shoulders.
Eddie shut his eyes. For the first time in his life he felt dirty and ashamed of himself.
Chapter twelve
POLICE SUSPECT RILEY GANG RESPONSIBLE FOR POLICE SLAYING
Murdered man identified
John Blandish pays ransom money
Our reporter learns the man shot to death at the Palace Hotel has been identified as Alvin Heinie, the freelance society gossip writer. It was Heinie who informed the police that the Riley mob had questioned him concerning the movements of John Blandish’s daughter, the kidnapped heiress.
It is understood that the ransom demand of a million dollars is being paid today. Mr. Blandish, fearing for his daughter’s safety has refused to cooperate with the authorities. The Department of Justice and the Federal Bureau of Investigation are standing by. They will go into immediate action when it is known the kidnapped girl is safe.
The police have reason to believe that Alvin Heinie was murdered by the Riley gang as an act of revenge...
Ma Grisson read the story to the gang who listened, grinning.
“Nice work,” Flynn said. “Riley’s getting blamed for everything. I bet if the Chief of Police fell downstairs, he would say Riley had pushed him.” Eddie was looking thoughtful.
“Maybe it’s okay, but I’ve been asking myself who did shoot Heinie. It wasn’t Riley and it wasn’t us. This Borg girl bothers me. I think she knocked Heinie off. Why? We do know she’s connected in some way with Riley. I think we should do something about her.”
“You’re right,” Ma said. “Before we collect the money, we must find out where she fits in. You go into town, Eddie and ask around. You might get a lead on her.”
“Okay,” Eddie said getting to his feet. “You coming with me, Slim?”
Slim was sitting in a corner away from the rest of the mob. He was reading the comics. He didn’t even look up when Eddie spoke to him.
“You go in alone,” Ma said. “Leave your rod here.” Eddie went out into the hall. Ma followed him. “You go and talk to Pete Cosmos,” Ma said. “He knows all the girls in town. Gimme your gun.”
As Eddie handed the.45 over, he said, “Can’t you tell Slim to leave the girl alone, Ma?” Ma stiffened.
“Mind your own business, Eddie,” she said. “You’re a good boy. Don’t start poking your nose into something that doesn’t concern you.”