1965 - The Way the Cookie Crumbles (17 page)

‘Oh, yes, Mrs. Garland. I’m very happy for him.’

‘You’ve met Joy of course?’

‘Yes.’

‘She’s nice, isn’t she?’

‘I like her very much.’

‘I’m sorry I haven’t met you before. We always have lots of young people up at our place. Next year you must meet my son when he comes down here for the vacation.’

She opened a large handbag and took from it a heavily sealed envelope. ‘Would you be nice and put this in my safe? Here’s the key.’

‘Of course, Mrs. Garland,’ Ira said, her heart suddenly racing. She took the envelope and the key. Then she went around her desk, opened the drawer and took out the pass key. For a moment she hesitated, then picked up the small lump of putty she kept in the drawer. Concealing it in her hand, she hurried down the lane, turned right and reached the Garlands’ safe. She carefully took the impression of the key before she opened the safe. Then she paused. Why bother to take the impression? She had only to put the envelope down the front of her girdle to save Algir the task of cutting the key.

Let him cut it! she thought. He won’t get the money now before Monday. As she put the envelope into the safe, she glanced at the safe’s contents. There were several jewel boxes and a number of thick envelopes to match the one she had just put in. She closed the safe door and locked it.

As she turned she became aware that Mrs. Garland had wandered to the head of the lane and was idly watching her. Ira felt a rush of cold blood up her spine. What an escape! she thought, for a moment unnerved. If she hadn’t put the envelope in the safe, Mrs. Garland would have seen her stealing it!

‘If you ever come to New York,’ Mrs. Garland said as Ira joined her, ‘do look us up. I’m always trying to persuade your father to stay with us, but he’s so occupied.’

‘I’d like to,’ Ira said, trying to steady her voice, ‘but I’m afraid it’s not likely I’ll get to New York.’

‘Well, if you do, remember. Goodbye, Norena,’ and leaving her, Mrs. Garland hurried away.

At lunchtime Ira went over to the cafe where Algir was waiting.

‘Well?’ he demanded as she joined him.

Silently she handed him the box containing the key impression.

‘Who’s this belong to?’

‘Mrs. Marc Garland.’

‘Any money in the safe?’

‘Yes, a lot.’

‘Okay. I don’t have to tell you what to expect if you’re lying,’ he said, slipping the box in his pocket. ‘You won’t get a second chance, you little creep. Remember that!’

She turned away and walked out of the cafe. She was so occupied with her thoughts she failed to see Jess Farr across the street in a shabby Ford he had rented. Neither did Algir notice him as he drove off in his Buick.

A cigarette hanging from his thin lips, Jess set the Ford in motion and followed Algir back to Edris’ apartment block.

* * *

Fred Hess settled himself more comfortably against the sand dune and released a small, contented belch. He had just completed an excellent picnic lunch, the sun was warm, the breeze gentle and the sound of the sea soporific.

This was his first free weekend from police headquarters for some time and this Saturday morning, he had decided to take his wife Maria and his son Fred to a favourite bathing place they used and to spend the day there.

The only fly in the ointment, Hess thought as he folded his hands over his paunch, was Junior. Hess liked other people’s children, but he wasn’t all worked up about his own. The trouble was, he so often thought, the brat’s spoilt. Maria, a doting mother, but a stern wife, wouldn’t let him lay a hand on the kid, and if ever a child needed a constant walloping on his fat backside it was Fred Hess junior.

But for the moment all was peace. Maria had taken Junior down to the sea where he was busy splashing water at her white dress and enjoying himself.

Hess had announced that he was taking a nap. Junior had wanted him to play ball. There had been a heated argument, and Maria fearing for her husband’s blood pressure had grabbed Junior’s hand and had dragged him out of the hearing of Hess’s highly coloured vocabulary.

This was the life! Hess thought as he closed his eyes.

What more could a man want? It was pleasant to think of the others sweating it out in the hot, stuffy Detectives’ room at headquarters. Joe Beigler was duty sergeant, and right now he would be answering the telephone, trying to sound polite as the callers asked their crummy questions or told him about the dog they had lost or the car they had had stolen. Well, Joe was welcome to all that. Hess grunted happily and let himself drift off into sleep.

He slept for fifteen minutes, then the arrival of Junior brought him scowlingly awake. It gave him some satisfaction to see Maria examining her dress with apprehension. If she would let the kid throw water at her, then that was her funeral.

‘Go away,’ he said to his son, a small, fat boy with an aggressive chin and a determined expression that made him the image of his father. ‘See how far you can run without your legs falling off.’

The boy ignored him. He picked up his sand spade and approaching his mother, said, ‘I want to bury pop.’

Maria sat down in the shade. She was a large comfortable looking woman of thirty-five. She wasn’t a beauty, but she had strength of character and kindness, and Hess, after ten years of married life, wouldn’t have exchanged her for any other woman in the world.

‘Well, all right,’ she said, ‘but do it quietly. Your daddy’s tired and wants to rest.’

‘Hey!’ Hess said indignantly. ‘I want to be left in peace and I’m not going to be buried!’

‘I want to bury pop!’ Junior said, thrusting out his chin.

‘Now, Fred,’ Maria chided, ‘you know all kids like to bury people.’

‘Is that right? Then let him bury you.’ Hess also thrust out his chin. ‘He’s not burying me!’

‘I want to bury pop!’ Junior cried, raising his voice.

‘He doesn’t want to bury me, honey,’ Maria pointed out. ‘He wants to bury you.’

‘I’m not deaf. If he comes near me, he’ll get a thick ear.’

‘Now look, Fred, you mustn’t be selfish. It’s Junior’s day out as well as yours,’ Maria said. ‘I can’t see how it can bother you if he puts a little sand on you. Kids like to do it.’

‘I don’t give a goddamn what kids like. I don’t like it!’

Hess said, growing red in the face.

‘Fred Hess! I’m ashamed of you using language like that before your own son!’ Maria exclaimed, genuinely shocked.

‘Goddamn! Goddamn! Goddamn!’ Junior cried, hopping up and down, happily aware that his father was now in the wrong and determined to profit by it.

‘Junior, stop it!’ Maria said severely. ‘Don’t let me ever hear that word from you again.’

‘I don’t see why. Pop uses it!’ Junior said with a cunning look at his father.

‘Daddy shouldn’t use it,’ Maria said.

‘Naughty old pop! Naughty old pop!’ Junior sang, dancing up and down. ‘He shouldn’t use goddamn, but he does!’

‘Now see what you’ve done,’ Maria said angrily, glaring at her husband.

Hess thought it rather funny, but he kept his face straight with an effort.

‘The kid’s got to learn sometime,’ he said airily. ‘Now you beat it, Junior. I want to sleep.’

‘I want to bury pop,’ Junior said, a whine in his voice.

There was a long pause, while Maria looked exasperatedly at her husband.

‘If you want any peace, Fred, you’d better let him do it. You know what he is. He’ll go on like this all the afternoon.’

‘I want to bury pop!’ Junior screamed at the top of his voice, sensing victory.

‘Perhaps if I fetched him one,’ Hess said in a wheedling voice. ‘Just a little clump on his ear. Won’t hurt him much. Stun him a bit. What do you say?’

‘Fred Hess!’ Maria said in an awful voice.

Hess shrugged.

‘Oh, well, no harm in suggesting it.’

Junior who knew he was safe from his father’s heavy hand so long as his mother was there began to grow red in the face while he screamed he wanted to bury his father.

‘Hey, Junior,’ Hess said, suddenly inspired. ‘I want to tell you something.’

Junior paused in his noise and looked suspiciously at his father.

‘What?’

‘You see that big sand dune over there. the big one?’ Hess said, pointing to a high bank of sand some hundred yards away.

Junior stared at it.

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll tell you something very interesting about it, but first you must promise never to tell anyone. It’s a great big secret.’

Junior began to look interested.

‘What sort of secret?’

Hess beckoned.

‘Come closer. I don’t want anyone to hear this.’

Intrigued now, Junior approached his father and knelt by his side.

Hess resisted the temptation to slap him. Lowering his voice, he said, ‘An old man went to sleep there last night. He’s a nice old man. He likes kids. He carries lots of meat pies around with him to give to kids.’

If there was one thing Junior liked more than another, it was a meat pie and Hess knew it. The boy’s face lit up.

‘What happened to him then?’ he asked, staring across at the sand dune.

‘He got buried,’ Hess said. ‘He got buried right under that big sand dune. He was asleep and the wind blew and the sand buried him and all his pies. You go and dig him up.’

‘Are the pies still there?’

‘Of course they are,’ Hess said. ‘Nice big pies with pastry made with butter and lots of juicy meat in thick, rich gravy.’ His own eloquence made him suddenly hungry and he wished Maria had thought to bring some pies for a teatime snack.

‘Gee!’ Junior’s eyes widened. ‘But how’s the old man, isn’t he dead, buried like that?’

‘He’s all right. He’ll be so pleased if you dig him up. He’ll give you all his pies. You go and see.’

Junior hesitated. He wasn’t quite sure if Hess was having a game with him or not.

‘Will you come and help me dig him up?’ he asked.

‘I certainly will,’ Hess said, making a show of getting up. He had anticipated this request and was ready for it. ‘But if I help you, we’ll have to share the pies. My share will be bigger than yours because I am bigger than you.’

Junior scowled.

‘I don’t see why you should have more pies than me.’

‘Well, I do. I’m bigger and more hungry.’

Junior hesitated.

‘I’ll do it myself then,’ he declared and catching up his spade, he began running towards the sand dune.

‘I’m ashamed of you,’ Maria said, trying to keep her face straight. ‘Telling lies like that. You’ll be sorry. Just wait till he finds out there are no pies.’

Hess grinned and settled down once again.

‘By the time he has, it’ll be time to go home,’ he said. ‘Now, I’m going to sleep.’

He looked over to where his son was frantically digging, gave a beatific smile and closed his eyes. He hadn’t been asleep for more than ten minutes when he was awakened by Junior’s excited screams. He struggled upright, his face red with wrath.

His son was dancing up and down, waving to him.

‘Pop! Come quick!’ he screamed. ‘It isn’t the old man. it’s a woman and she stinks!’

* * *

Dr. Lowis came striding across the beach as the police photographer completed his work.

Terrell, Beigler and Hess stood near the high sand dune while members of the Homicide squad carefully completed removing the body Junior had found from its shallow grave.

‘She’s all yours,’ Terrell said to Lowis. ‘Let’s have a quick report, doc. Looks like she’s been strangled.’

Lowis nodded and went over to the body.

‘You know,’ Hess said inflating his chest, ‘that kid of mine will make a great cop. If it hadn’t been for him, the stiff could have remained there forever.’

‘Takes after you,’ Beigler said with a grin.

‘Yeah. It’s the way I brought him up,’ Hess said, pleased.

‘All right, boys,’ Terrell said. ‘Let’s get at it. Get some more men up here, Fred. Every inch of this ground around here has to be searched.’

Hess nodded and hurried off.

‘With her face the way it is,’ Beigler said gloomily, ‘we could have trouble identifying her, Chief. The killer must have either taken her clothes or buried them somewhere.’

‘Any girls missing within the past six weeks?’ Terrell asked.

‘Not in our district.’

‘We’ll wait to hear what doc has to say, then you get back to headquarters. We want a description of her in the papers tomorrow and on the radio and TV tonight. You handle that, Joe.’

‘Okay.’ Beigler watched the breeze send swirls of sand moving along the beach. ‘This shifting sand isn’t going to help. We can’t hope to find any prints. He must have brought her out by car and he must have come prepared. The sand there is too hard for him to have dug the grave with his hands. He must have had a spade with him.’

Terrell nodded.

‘Yes, and he didn’t want her identified. A run-of-the- mill rapist doesn’t take the woman’s clothes away. He must have known if she is identified, she could be hooked to him and that means they must have known each other.’

An ambulance appeared up the dirt road and parked by the police cars. Two interns came hurrying across the sand with a stretcher. Hess who had been using the short wave radio joined Terrell and Beigler.

‘The boys are on their way now,’ he said and then went on to speak to the three Homicide detectives who were on hands and knees carefully sifting the loose sand of the grave.

The two interns waited until Dr. Lowis had completed his hurried examination of the body, then at a nod from him, they opened the stretcher, scooped the body onto it, covered it with a canvas sheet and hurried away with it to the ambulance.

Terrell and Beigler moved over to Dr. Lowis who was shutting his bag.

‘Well, doc?’

‘Murder. strangulation with some violence,’ Lowis said briskly. ‘She’s been dead about six weeks. Putrefaction is well advanced. She put up a struggle. What’s left of her face has extensive bruising. I can give you more details when I get her to the morgue.’

‘Was she raped?’ Terrell asked.

‘No.’

Terrell and Beigler exchanged glances, then Terrell shrugged. They now had to find a motive for the murder.