1965 - The Way the Cookie Crumbles (19 page)

‘Shut up, damn you!’ Algir snarled. ‘Half that money belongs to me and I’m going to have it!’

‘Well, okay, if you’ve made up your goddamn mind,’ Edris said and he went into the kitchenette and started the coffee brewing again.

He had to have Algir, he thought, but he cursed the day he had picked him. Algir was right. As soon as he got the money, he would have to get out of Paradise City. The cops could pick him up so easily. He had only to show himself on the street for anyone to recognize him. But there was still a chance the cops wouldn’t identify the girl. He would clear out and wait. If nothing happened after a few months, he would come back. Ira would still be at the bank. He would find someone else to take Algir’s place.

His scheme wasn’t entirely sunk.

But where to go until he was sure he was safe?

Mexico? Could be an idea. He poured coffee into two cups. It wasn’t as if he would be short of money. He might have himself a good time in Mexico. And if Algir really imagined he was going to get his share, he was in for a surprise.

All Algir was going to get for being a hero was a slug in the back.

* * *

For some, this hot Sunday passed slowly; for others it passed fast.

Ira thought the day would never end. Soon after ten, Mel had left to meet Joy. They planned to spend the day at the beach cabin. He asked Ira along, but she had refused.

‘You two love birds want to be alone. I’m fine,’ she had said with a lightness she didn’t feel. ‘I’m going to the Club.’

When Mel had gone, she went up to her room and sat by the open window. She had twelve days ahead of her before she left. She still wasn’t sure where she would go. She wasn’t afraid of the future. She knew how to look after herself, but she bitterly regretted leaving Mel, this house and her room.

She lit a cigarette and put her feet up on the window sill. She hated the thought of Edris and Algir getting away with the money she had helped them to steal, but there was nothing she could do about that without getting into trouble herself. At least, by going away, she would stop them getting any more. But for twelve more days she would have to go on getting key impressions for them and this worried her.

After much thought, she finally decided what she would do when Mel and Joy left for their honeymoon. Her best plan would be to drive to the beach cabin, change into the clothes she had come in to Paradise City, tint her hair dark, leave the car and walk to the highway where she could catch a Greyhound bus to Miami. From there, she would take another bus to Texas. With the money she had saved, she would have no trouble, and once in Texas, she would get a job.

* * *

The day passed slowly for Algir who sat by the radio listening to every news announcement, afraid to go out and cursing himself for ever getting involved with Edris. Around ten o’clock, he called the airport and booked a seat for the Havana flight the following afternoon. He packed his bag. Then with nothing else to do, he again sat before the radio, sweating it out and reading and rereading the newspaper account of the finding of Norena’s body.

Edris was much more in control of his nerves. He left the apartment while Algir was calling the airport. He drove to La Coquille restaurant where he found the maître d’hôtel planning the menu for the evening. He told him that he had to go to New York where an old friend was dying and asking for him. Louis said he could go if he had to, but he couldn’t expect to be paid while he was away.

‘That’s all right,’ Edris said, longing to spit in Louis’ face, but determined to keep up good appearances to the end. ‘I understand that. I’ll get back as fast as I can, but I could be away for ten days. I’m sorry, Mr. Louis, to let you down.’

Outside the maître d’hôtel’s office, he made an obscene gesture at the door before going down to where he had parked his car. He drove to the airport and booked a seat on the Mexican flight, leaving the next afternoon.

The time was now midday. He drove back to Paradise City, parked his Mini and went to a nearby bar. He ordered a double whisky on the rocks and a chicken and ham sandwich. While he was eating, Bert Hamilton of the Sun wandered in.

‘Hello there,’ Hamilton drawled, coming to rest beside Edris. ‘How’s my court jester?’

Edris smiled at him.

‘Swell. How’s yourself?’

‘Lousy.’ Hamilton ordered a straight whisky. ‘I was up nearly all night with this murder thing. You read about it?’

‘Sure.’ Edris finished his drink and ordered another. ‘I always read your rag, Bert. What’s new?’

‘Nothing so far. No one knows who the girl is. Between you and me, I don’t think they’re going to find out either, but don’t quote me. Whoever she is, she must have come from miles away. The cops have reports in from all Florida now and there are no girls matching her description missing. So now they’re spreading the net. She could come from New York. anywhere.’

‘Captain Terrell’s a smart man,’ Edris said. ‘He’ll find her if anyone can.’ He looked questioningly at Hamilton.

‘Haven’t they one single clue then?’

Hamilton, who hadn’t been told about the spectacles, shook his head.

‘Not one, no scars, no dental work, fingerprints don’t help, no body marks, no nothing.’

Edris finished his drink and slid off the stool. He felt suddenly relaxed and carefree.

‘Well, I’ll get along. See you, Bert,’ and nodding he bounced out of the bar.

* * *

The day dragged for Jess Farr. He spent it on a deserted part of the beach by himself. He was anxious that no one should see him. It would be a lot safer for him, he reasoned, after he had done what he planned to do the following morning if no one remembered him. He also remembered what Ira had said about the cops picking him up, dressed the way he was. He wasn’t going to let that happen if he could help it.

So he planned to stay on the beach and sleep in the rented car. He had brought food with him. He swam, smoked and drank too much. He hated being alone. He thought the day would never end.

* * *

The day passed too swiftly for the men of the Homicide squad. Every available man at the headquarters had been thrown into a search for information regarding the broken spectacles. The lab boys had come up with some useful information considering what they had had to work on.

At 07.45 Terrell was still at his desk. Beigler and Hess were with him. The three men were drinking coffee and smoking. Terrell was looking through the report from the lab for the third time. He seemed to be trying to squeeze more information out of it than it actually contained. The lab boys had classified the two lenses of the broken spectacles. They said the owner of the spectacles suffered from acute astigmatism and would have to wear the spectacles constantly. The right eye was more affected than the left.

This was something to work on and raised Terrell’s hopes.

He had already sent three of his men out to all the wholesale opticians within a radius of a hundred miles as a start.

‘Never mind that it’s Sunday. Find out where the top man lives and get him to open up the factory,’ Terrell said. ‘I want to know who those lenses were supplied to and I want to know today!’

He had told Jacoby to call the hospitals and eye specialists listed in the classified telephone book.

Another three men were trying to trace the factory that had made the plastic frames of the spectacles. Here again, this would be no easy task as the factories would be shut for the weekend, but Terrell would listen to no objections.

He now picked up the report on the plaster casts of the heel impressions found near Coral Cove. The report was brief but interesting. The man they were looking for was close on six feet tall and weighed 190 pounds. The number 10 shoes he was wearing were practically new. They were supplied by ‘The Man’s Shop’, a swank outfitters in Paradise City. A police officer was already on his way to try to find the assistant who had recently sold such a pair of shoes.

Putting down the report, Terrell said, ‘What’s your next move, Fred?’

‘I guess I’ll go out to Coral Cove and see what the boys are doing. It’s light enough now for a good look around. Okay with you, Chief?’

Terrell nodded and when Hess had gone, he poured more coffee into his paper cup and looked over at Beigler.

‘I was hoping something would break after last night’s broadcast.’

‘Saturday night’s a bad night. Most folk are out. There’s a repeat in five minutes. I’ll get back to my desk,’ Beigler said, moving to the door.

When he had gone, Terrell took a towel and shaving kit from his desk drawer and went along to the Men’s room.

Beigler found Lepski sitting in the Detectives’ room, smoking and dozing. Jacoby was talking on the telephone. As Beigler sat down and lit a cigarette, Jacoby replaced the receiver and swung around in his chair.

‘Dr. Hunstein has two patients with eyes that match our prescription,’ he said. ‘A girl of twenty-three and another of twenty-five. Both blondes. Both local girls.’

‘Find out if they are missing and find out if they’ve ever owned a pair of blue plastic spectacles,’ Beigler said, then looked at Lepski as Jacoby began to dial. ‘Those spectacles need not have anything to do with the stiff. Thought of that?’

‘You’re paid to do the thinking, Sarg,’ Lepski said with a grin. ‘I’m only paid to do the leg work.’

Ten minutes talking by Jacoby produced the information that neither of the girls were missing and neither of them had ever owned a pair of blue plastic spectacles.

‘Keep at it,’ Beigler said, drawing a line through Dr. Hunstein’s name.

The telephone bell rang. Beigler sighed and lifted the receiver. Then began a stream of useless information inspired by the broadcast appeal that had to be checked and that poured into Beigler’s ear for the rest of the morning.

At lunchtime, Terrell ate a sandwich and then decided to go to Coral Cove to see what Hess was doing. As he got into his car, he thought that the morning had gone like a flash and they were no further to finding out who the girl was than if they had all spent a nice relaxing morning at home.

He remained with Hess for two hours. Every inch of the hummocks and the surrounding ground had been searched and had produced not one single clue.

‘A stiff ‘un,’ Hess growled, wiping his sweating face. ‘I’ll come back with you, Chief. Maybe by now there’s a lead on those spectacles.’

Back at headquarters, they found Beigler with the first of the lists of names and addresses that had just come in.

‘Believe it or not, we have thirty-two girls between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five who wear spectacles of our prescription,’ he told Terrell. ‘Three of them live here. Ten in Miami. Twelve in Jacksonville. Three in Tampa and the rest along the Keys. None of them have been reported missing, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t missing.’

Terrell grunted.

‘Get Max onto it. Let’s find out if they owned the spectacles.’

Beigler gave the list to Jacoby who went over to the telephone, a resigned expression on his face.

‘There’s a guy on his way in who might be interesting,’ Beigler went on to Terrell. ‘He claims he saw a girl and a man driving towards Coral Cove around eight o’clock in the morning on the 17th of last month. that would be six weeks ago.’

Terrell’s face brightened.

‘Fine. When he arrives, bring him to my office.’ Seeing Lepski was about to light a cigarette, he said, ‘Give Max a hand with that list. I want some action around here!’

When he had gone, Lepski lifted his eyebrows.

‘Getting the old man worried?’ he asked.

‘It’s getting me worried!’ Beigler snapped. ‘Get going! Do some work!’

Lepski joined Jacoby and pulled another telephone towards him. He examined the list of names and addresses, then said, ‘Hey Joe! You see the Devon girl is on this list?’

Beigler looked at him, an exasperated expression in his eyes.

‘Yeah. I can read. What of it? We know she’s not missing. So what?’

Lepski stubbed out his cigarette and lit another before saying, ‘Only she doesn’t wear spectacles.’

‘So what?’ Beigler snapped. ‘Get on with it, Tom, for Pete’s sake! The trouble with you is you prefer to yak than to work!’

‘I said she doesn’t wear spectacles, Joe,’ Lepski said, patiently. ‘I’ve seen her four or five times driving her car. She doesn’t wear spectacles!’

Beigler stared at him, sudden interest in his eyes. He reached forward and picked up the Lab report on the lens. Then he stared at Lepski again.

‘I may like yakiting,’ Lepski said dryly, ‘but I’m a damn fine cop. The nickel dropped yet, Joe?’

‘It says here the owner of the spectacles has to wear them constantly,’ Beigler said, frowning. ‘You say her name’s on that list supplied by Dr. Weidman and she doesn’t wear spectacles?’

‘You’re coming along fine, Joe. Watch you don’t bust a vein in your brain.’

Beigler got to his feet and went over to where Lepski was sitting. He picked up the list and studied it.

‘That’s right. Norena Devon, Graham Co-Ed School, Miami.’ He rubbed his jaw. ‘Could be a mistake. I’ll talk to Weidman.’

He crossed back to his desk and put a call through to Dr. Weidman’s office in Miami. The answering nurse said Dr. Weidman was out and wouldn’t be back until nine o’clock. She sounded a little hurt that anyone would want to talk to the doctor on such a nice, sunny Sunday afternoon as this one was.

‘This is Paradise City police,’ Beigler said. ‘I want information on one of Dr. Weidman’s patients.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss Dr. Weidman’s patients with anyone over the telephone,’ the nurse said primly. ‘You must come and see the doctor if you need information,’ and she hung up.

‘Cow!’ Beigler said and slammed down the receiver. ‘Hey, Tom! Get off your arse. Go out to Miami and find Dr. Weidman. We can’t wait until he comes back. Talk to him. You know what we want.’

Lepski jumped to his feet. Anything was better than staying in the hot, stuffy, Detectives’ room.

‘Okay, Sarg, I’ll find him,’ he said and hurried off.

The telephone bell rang.