1984 - Hit Them Where it Hurts (17 page)

I wasn’t impressed. I had seen it all before. I stood by my car, listening to the distant roar of the traffic, watching the headlights as cars moved along the boulevards.

I unlocked the car door and dropped into the driving seat, out of the drizzle. I sat there thinking of Josh Smedley. What a loving father would do for a worthless son! I shrugged. I now wanted to see Bill and to hear if anything was happening at the cottage. As I was about to start the car engine, I heard a sound that made me pause. The sound was an ambulance siren that grew louder, and a moment later an ambulance followed by a car swept by me and turned into the narrow lane leading to the cottage.

I caught a glimpse of two men in the car.

Knowing Bill was up there, I decided to stay put and not confuse the situation. I lit a cigarette and waited. It was a long wait. Some forty minutes later, I began to lose patience, then a chauffeur driven Rolls swept by me. I saw Mrs. Thorsen sitting at the back. The Rolls turned into the narrow lane. I decided to keep out of it. I lit yet another cigarette and waited.

Another dreary half hour crawled by, then I heard the ambulance siren start up. Moments later, the ambulance appeared and went racing off towards the city, followed by the car with the two men. I guessed they were doctors I still waited, then after twenty minutes the Rolls appeared and drove towards the Thorsen’s residence.

I started my car engine and drove up the narrow lane. From time to time, I flashed my headlights to alert Bill I was on my way.

As I approached the gate to the cottage, I saw Bill who waved to me. I pulled onto the grass verge as he ran to my car. He slid into the passenger’s seat and slammed the car door.

‘Go ahead, Bill,’ I said. ‘Tell me.’

‘I saw the action through the living room window.’ Bill said. ‘Man! Plenty of action! I guess I arrived at the right time. Mrs. Smedley was sitting. I felt sorry for her. I guess she was trying to decide what she would do. After a time, I saw the living room door slowly open and Angie appeared. She had got hold of the kitchen knife again. She began to creep towards Mrs. Smedley. She looked out of her mind and vicious. I never want again to see anyone looking like that. She gave me the horrors. I was about to break the window and yell to Mrs. Smedley when she must have sensed her danger. For a woman built like a Jap wrestler her reaction was impressive. As Angie was coming at her, Mrs. Smedley was on her feet, had the knife away and gave Angie a clout that knocked her across the room. She then pounced on her and carried her into the bedroom, out of my sight.

‘She was out of sight for a good ten minutes, then she returned to the living room, picked up the telephone receiver and dialled. I guess she was calling for help, and believe me, she certainly needed help. Then Angie began screaming again, but I guess Mrs. Smedley had tied her up. She kept screaming she wanted Terry. Mrs. Smedley’s phone call got a lot of action. In twenty minutes, an ambulance. . .’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘I saw them arrive. What happened?’

‘They brought Angie out on a stretcher and away they went. Then Mrs. Thorsen arrived She talked to the two doctors, then they left. While this was going on, Mrs. Smedley stood, leaning against the wall, listening. Mrs. Thorsen started talking to her. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but from the expression on her face what she was saying wasn’t pleasant. Then she opened her handbag, took out two 500 dollar bills and threw them on the table. That’s it, Dirk. It’s my guess Mrs. Thorsen told Mrs. Smedley to pack up and go.’

‘OK, Bill. Stick around. I think this could be the right moment to talk to Mrs. Smedley.’

I left the car. It had stopped raining, so I took off my mac and threw it on the back seat of the car, then I walked to the front door of the cottage. I pressed the doorbell, then, finding the door unlocked, I entered the small lobby, then walked into the living room.

Mrs. Smedley was sitting in a heap in an armchair. She looked up, stared at me, then nodded.

‘You! What do you want?’

She didn’t look or sound hostile so I sat down in a chair near hers.

‘You have been told by Mrs. Thorsen to pack up and leave. Is that right?’

She nodded.

‘That’s right, and I’ll be glad to go. I have had enough of the Thorsens. I’m going back to my people. For the first time in twenty years, I feel free to do what I like.’

‘I am glad for you,’ I said in my most soothing voice.

‘Before you go, Mrs. Smedley, will you tell me about the Thorsens? I want to know why Angie was being blackmailed. Do you know?’

She stared at me for a long time while she was thinking; then she shrugged her massive shoulders.

‘Yes,’ she finally said. ‘I guess I need to talk to someone before I leave. I want all this off my mind before I return to my people. I have four brothers and three sisters. They’ll all welcome me. I come from a big family. If it wasn’t for Miss Angie, I would have gone to them years ago. I nursed Miss Angie from the moment she was born. I knew she was a little crazy. I helped her a lot. I did everything for her, and she loved me for it. Her mother never did a thing for her. Miss Angie worshipped her brother. They got along fine together until he began to grow up, then I saw he was getting tired of her. She wouldn’t leave him alone. I warned her, but she wouldn’t listen. Then he started this piano playing. He would lock himself in the music room and she would sit outside, listening. She was mad about his playing. Then he and his father had a quarrel. Mr. Terry left home. He didn’t even say goodbye to Miss Angie. It was a terrible shock to her, and from then on, she became more and more crazy in the head. I had a bad time with her, but I did manage to control her. Then Mr. Thorsen died suddenly and left her all this money and this cottage. She moved into it at once. She hated her mother. She did nothing. She would sit in a chair all day, staring and muttering to herself. I guess I made a mistake. I should have told Mrs. Thorsen to get a doctor, but I disliked Mrs. Thorsen, and I hoped to pull Miss Angie out of this mood, so I kept trying to get her interested in the garden, to do something around the home, but she took no notice. This went on for a week and I was making up my mind to get help when a man arrived.’

Mrs. Smedley paused to wipe away the sweat that was running down her face. ‘He didn’t ring the bell. He just walked in. I was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. He sat where you are sitting and took off his hat. He was completely hairless and had the face of a devil. I was just coming out, when I heard him say he knew where Terry was, so I waited and listened. Miss Angie completely changed. She became alive. “Where is he?” she demanded. This man told her her brother didn’t want anyone to know where he was. He was being a success with his piano playing. He told Miss Angie her brother sent her his love. Then the business. This devil of a man told her her brother was under his protection. “I don’t protect people for nothing,” he said, “I want you to go to the Black Cassette club on the first of every month with ten thousand dollars. As long as you continue to do that, your brother will be protected by me. If you don’t, someone will break your brother’s hands with a hammer, and he will never play again. You have the money. I have the protection”.’

Mrs. Smedley paused again to wipe the sweat off her face. ‘This was ten months ago, Miss Angie said she would pay. This devil of a man told her where to find the Black Cassette. He said all she had to do was walk in with the money on the first of every month. She would find an old friend, waiting. The old friend was my no-good son. May he never have been born!’ She thumped her knees with her clenched fists. ‘I tried to talk to Miss Angie. She wouldn’t listen. I tried to warn her this man was a bluffer. I said it wasn’t likely he did know where Mr. Terry was. She wouldn’t listen. She kept screaming, “To break those wonderful hands with a hammer.” So every month, she went to the bank, got the money and gave it to my no-good son. Doing that seemed to give her more peace of mind. She wasn’t so difficult. There was nothing I could do about this, so I just looked after her.

‘Then, soon after, this hairless man came again. I listened from the kitchen. He said if Miss Angie gave him a hundred thousand dollars, he could fix it for her to meet her brother. Then you came, telling her you were looking for her brother because he had inherited a hundred thousand. You told her all he had to do was to go to the bank and they would pay him. Miss Angie wanted this money so she could see Mr. Terry again. Into her crazy mind came the idea of finding someone to impersonate Mr. Terry, get the money, and she would give it to this hairless man and finally see her brother. She went to Hank who found someone. You know what happened. She came back here in a terrible state. She behaved like a vicious, wild animal. She scared me. I shut myself in the kitchen. She kept screaming, “I’ll fix that sonofabitch. He must have a girlfriend. I’ll talk to Hank. I’ll fix him good.” Then she left in her car. I didn’t see her for three or four hours When she returned, she was much calmer. “I’ve fixed him,” she told me. I had no idea what she was talking about until I read in the paper about the acid attack.’ She shuddered ‘I’m sorry, but she’s not in her right mind.’

I thought of Suzy: the acid, the pain, the truck smashing into her.

‘And Angie?’ I asked. ‘What’s going to happen to her?’

Mrs. Smedley lifted her vast shoulders in a gesture of despair.

‘She’s being put away in a nuthouse—they call it a mental clinic. I listened while the two doctors talked to Mrs. Thorsen. They said Miss Angie was beyond recovery. There was no hope for her. The only thing to do was to keep her under drugs and locked up. Mrs. Thorsen told them to go ahead. Miss Angie now might as well be dead.’

There was nothing more I wanted to hear: nothing more I wanted to know. I got to my feet.

‘If there is anything I can do to help you, Mrs. Smedley, just tell me. I have a car outside. Can I drive you down to the city?’

She stared at me, then shook her head.

‘I don’t need anyone’s help. Go away! I’m going back to my people.’

I left the cottage, and stood for some minutes in the garden, feeling the humid heat and hearing the distant sound of the traffic.

Hank was dead. Angie was locked away for life. Two down: one to go.

Hula Minsky!

I knew I would never rest until I had fixed that hairless ape. When that happened, this cold fury inside me for revenge might die. Suzy might become a wonderful memory. Stupid hopes? Could any revenge blot out Suzy’s last moments of life?

I walked to where Bill was waiting.

‘We’ll go home and talk,’ I said.

I got in my car. He got in his and we drove to my apartment.

Bill made coffee while I gave him the complete picture about Angie and Terry and Minsky, but about Josh I had given my word, so I kept my mind and my mouth shut.

‘Well, there it is, Bill,’ I said. ‘Tomorrow I see Sandra. All I’m interested in is to fix Minsky. I’m going to bed.’

I stunned myself to sleep with three sleeping pills.

It was while I was finishing a solid brunch breakfast that Bill had prepared that the telephone bell rang.

The time was 11.15. Both of us had slept heavily. The sound of the bell made me wince.

I picked up the receiver.

‘Dirk Wallace,’ I said.

‘This is Sam, Mr. Wallace, the Neptune Tavern. Mr. Barney wants to see you. He says it’s important.’

‘Where is he, Sam?’

‘He’s here, having his breakfast. He says he’ll wait.’

‘I’ll be along in twenty minutes. Thanks for calling, Sam,’ and I hung up.

I told Bill.

‘You stick around,’ I said. ‘I’m off.’

‘Hold it,’ Bill said, a snap in his voice. ‘I’m sick of sticking around. I’m coming with you. I’ll stick around in the car if I’m going to stick around anywhere.’

So, leaving the breakfast debris on the table, we went down to the garage and I drove to the Neptune Tavern.

Leaving Bill in the car, I crossed the waterfront and entered the tavern. I found Al Barney seated at his special corner table, wiping his plate clean with a piece of bread.

I sat in a chair opposite him. He regarded me, then nodded.

‘You want breakfast, Mr. Wallace?’ he asked.

I said I’d already had breakfast and did he want a beer?

‘I never say no to a beer, Mr. Wallace.’ He signalled to Sam who came racing over with a beer and a plateful of the lethal sausages.

After he had swallowed half the beer, he set down the mug, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, threw into his shark-like mouth three of the sausages, then relaxed back in his chair.

‘Mr. Wallace, I am a man with his ear to the ground. I don’t ask questions. I listen. So OK. You told me you were interested in Terry Zeigler. So I listen. You still interested?’

‘Yes, Al,’ I said.

He threw three more sausages into his mouth, chewed, grunted, then leaned forward, his peppery breath fanning my face.

‘The man you want to talk to is Chuck Solski. He was a drug pusher before the Mafia took over. From what I hear Zeigler was a close pal of his. Solski needs money. If you spread some dollars in front of him, he’ll tell you what happened to Zeigler. You’ll find Solski at 10 Clam Alley, top floor. That’s the best I can do. OK?’

‘Thanks, Al.’ I took out my wallet, but he waved it away.

‘We’re friends, Mr. Wallace. I don’t take money from friends.’

I shook his clammy hand.

‘Thanks again, Al.’

I returned to my car where Bill was waiting I told him what Al Barney had said.

‘I’ll see if this guy is home.’

‘Clam Alley? That’s at the far end of the waterfront. It’s a condemned slum. I’ll be surprised if anyone is living there. The few apartment blocks are going to be torn down.’

‘How do you know?’

Bill gave a sly smile.

‘Barney isn’t the only one who keeps his ear to the ground. No point in walking. We’ll drive.’

With Bill at the wheel, we drove slowly along the waterfront, now packed with tourists.

Finally, he pulled into a parking slot.

‘Clam Alley is just ahead.’

‘You certainly know this district,’ I said as I got out of the car.