The Blue Movie Murders (7 page)

April Evans smiled. “That's the best offer I'm likely to get in this town.”

McCall and April spent the entire morning looking through old newspaper files and phone books and even the yearbooks of nearby Stanyon University. But there was no Sol Dahlman mentioned or listed in any of them. It was as if the man had never existed, and perhaps he hadn't—at least under that name.

“I suppose I really didn't expect to find anything,” McCall admitted. “Back in those days men who made blue movies wouldn't be likely to use their real names.”

“Today they give interviews and appear on TV talk shows.”

He nodded, closing the last directory. “Times change.”

“What now?”

“I'm going to try some things on my own,” he said.

“I get it. The brush-off.”

“Not at all. Let's meet for dinner and compare notes.”

She thought about that, but only for a moment. “Sounds good. My hotel, at seven?”

“I'll be there.”

They parted outside the library and McCall cut across May Street, heading for City Hall. The previous day's meeting with Mayor Jordan had vaguely troubled him, perhaps because the Mayor had been too quiet in Xavier Mann's presence. Perhaps, out of sight of his former employer, he might open up a little about his days at Mann Photo.

Jordan was still out to lunch when McCall arrived, but he returned before long, bustling through the swinging wooden gate that was supposed to protect him from the public. If he saw McCall seated on the visitors' bench he gave no sign. Finally, after another ten minutes, the secretary motioned McCall inside.

The first thing one noticed on entering Mayor Jordan's office was the huge photograph of him, head and shoulders, mounted on heavy cardboard and leaning against one wall. It was apparently left over from the most recent election campaign, and McCall wondered at the sort of man egotistical enough to keep it there at the side of his desk for all these months.

Mayor Jordan nodded to him but did not offer to shake hands. His manner was polite but abrupt. “What can I do for you today, Mr. McCall? More questions?”

“Just a few, sir.” McCall seated himself facing the man behind the desk and the campaign photo at his side. “I was reading your biography in one of the Chamber of Commerce publications last evening. I hadn't known till then about your prior business experience.”

Mayor Jordan smiled slightly. “You mean at Mann Photo?”

“Yes. You were plant manager there, I believe.”

“That's correct.”

“I was wondering.… Quite often city officials have some background in the law.”

“The law is fine, but in a city like Rockview an experienced businessman as administrator can accomplish a great deal.”

“How long were you at Mann Photo?”

Mayor Jordan leaned back and closed his eyes. “Let's see—probably about sixteen years. I was elected to the city council eight years ago, and I resigned from Mann Photo when I decided to run for mayor.” He gestured towards the picture. “I was elected to my second term last November.”

“Then you would have been at Mann twenty years ago?”

“Correct.” Then, “What are you getting at?”

“You heard me ask Xavier Mann yesterday about blue movies produced at his plant. I'm asking you the same thing. It hardly seems likely that you could have been plant manager during those years without knowing what was going on.”

“What went on after hours didn't concern me, McCall.” His polite manner was growing thinner every minute. “What is this, anyway? Is Governor Holland trying to purge me from the party?”

“Hardly.”

“Then give us a break. This damn strike has everyone nervous. Don't make matters worse over something that happened years ago.”

McCall leaned forward in his chair. “Tell me about Sol Dahlman.”

“There's nothing to tell. Honestly, I never knew the man.”

“But you knew movies were being made there.”

“Test films only, trying out their new film. The testing was carried on beyond my jurisdiction. I never really knew what they were doing up there. You see, McCall, there are two completely separate divisions to Mann Photo—the processing service and the film manufacturing. I was technically in charge of both, but only so far as day-to-day production went. Research, testing, and sales were all under the direct supervision of Xavier Mann.”

“You're saying he was responsible for these sex films?”

“I'm saying nothing of the sort! Show me one of these films, show me proof that it was made at Mann, then maybe I'll believe it.”

McCall sighed. “I can't do that right at the moment, but I'm working on it. One other thing while I'm here, Mayor. Exactly what did Ben Sloane say when he phoned you Tuesday night?”

“Pretty much what he said in the letter. That he was looking for information about Dahlman, and that he'd pay for the information. I told him I knew nothing.”

“What time did he call?”

“It was a little before ten. He said he'd just checked in. I gathered that Hollywood producers don't mind doing business at late hours.”

“How many people did you discuss the letter with?”

Jordan shrugged. “Xavier Mann, possibly my secretary. The police chief said he passed his on to one of the lieutenants. I don't remember mentioning it to anyone else, until I gave it to that girl last evening.”

“April?”

“Yes. She asked me about Dahlman.”

“But between you and the others a great many people in Rockview could have known the reason for Ben Sloane's visit.”

“I suppose so.”

“Did he give his room number at the motel?”

“I don't think so, no.”

“All right,” McCall said.

“Satisfied?”

“No. I'll be back when I have some more questions.”

“How long do you intend to stay in Rockview?”

“Until I get some answers.”

Mayor Jordan leaned back in his chair. “Tensions are high since the strike. It's a dangerous place for an outsider.”

“Is that in the nature of a threat?”

“Not at all! But I just don't want Governor Holland on my neck if something happens to you.”

McCall nodded and stood up. “I'll try to be careful.”

SEVEN

Thursday, May 13

He met April Evans in the lobby of her hotel at seven o'clock, and they dined at a nearby restaurant called the Mountainview. Since the only view of mountains in the entire place was on a large faded mural on the back wall, he contented himself with studying the soft lines of April's face by candlelight.

“Everything in this city is some sort of View,” he told her. “Rockview, Parkview, Mountainview. And I see nothing but a bunch of grubby little people protecting their own interests.”

“Is it any different in the state capital, Mike?”

“I suppose not,” he admitted. “Maybe it's just that I'm used to them there.” He reached for another of her cigarettes. “So what were you up to this afternoon?”

“I drove out to Xavier Mann's house, but I couldn't get in. There was a gang of strikers outside, shouting and throwing rocks. Finally the police came and broke it up.”

“Did you see the man with the bandaged hand?”

“Tanner? He was there, all right—the ringleader.”

He brushed back the cowlick on his forehead, aware that being in April's company made him conscious of his appearance. “Do they just want more money, or are there racial overtones to it?”

“Well, I understand that the hiring of a few blacks triggered the thing, but it seems to go deeper than that. From what I saw this afternoon, I'd say it's developing into a personal war between the strikers and Mann.”

“Any way Sloane's murder could be tied into it?”

“I don't see how. The only connection would be Sloane's interest in Mann Photo.”

He knew he hadn't mentioned that to her. “Who says he was interested in Mann Photo? I never mentioned that.”

But she was not a girl to lose her composure. “Come on, Mike! We both know they've been turning out blue movies at the Mann plant. That's why you're here, and that's why I'm here. We're not going to get anywhere trying to kid each other.”

“Who in hell are you, anyway?”

“I'm sorry,” she said firmly. “I just can't tell you.”

“All right,” he said, giving it up for the moment. The waiter arrived with their dinners, and after some minutes of struggling with a tough steak he asked, “What about your visit to Suzanne Walsh? She said you came to see her last night.”

April laughed at the memory. “It was an accident of sorts. I'd wanted to see the room where Sloane was murdered, and I got her room by mistake. I asked her a few questions and left as soon as I could.”

“How did you expect to get into the murder room? I had a hard enough time persuading the manager to unlock the door, and that was after the police had spent the day photographing and dusting for fingerprints.”

“Sometimes it's easier for a girl,” she said. “I flashed a smile and the desk clerk told me the room number. I was going to pick the lock—only he gave me the secretary's room by mistake.”

“You were going to pick the lock?” he repeated, dumbfounded.

“Of course. Leave the chain off your door and I'll sneak into your room tonight. It's quite simple, really.”

“They teach you that at finishing school now?”

“Hardly. But you should know I'm not a finishing school girl.”

He took a sip of water and grinned at her. “I'll leave the chain off my door.”

They left the restaurant and drove for a time in McCall's car, heading out towards the Mann Photo plant. He had no specific destination in mind, unless it was perhaps back to his motel room with this strange and tempting girl.

But he'd driven only a few miles when he realized there was a car on his tail. He reached up to adjust the rear-view mirror and said, “Someone's following us. Can you get a look at him?”

She glanced out the back. They passed a well-lit shopping centre, and she told him, “It's a police car.”

“Can you see who's driving? Is it an officer or a plainclothesman?”

She was silent a moment, studying the car behind them. Then she said, “I think it's Lieutenant Powell.”

“That figures.”

“I met him for just a few minutes out at the motel, but it looks like him.”

McCall wheeled the car sharply to the right, into a side road that seemed to lead between two fields to some unseen and perhaps non-existent farmhouse. The police car slowed but went on by.

“I think you lost him,” April said.

“Don't be so sure.”

But he came to a stop about halfway along the road. She perked up almost at once and said, “You didn't tell me you'd already staked out the local lovers' lane.”

“Miss Evans—”

“April.”

“April, in my job sex is irrelevant. In fact, I have a reputation in certain circles of being practically sexless.”

She started to say something, but he cut her off at once. A car had turned into the road behind them, targeting them with its headlights. “Is that Powell again?”

But she couldn't see. The headlights were blinding them. “I can't imagine what he wants with us.”

McCall opened the door on his side. “If he's trying to scare us he's in for a big surprise.”

The car's headlights were still on as he walked towards them, and he heard doors slam. “Is that you, Powell?” he called out.

“Well, well,” a half-remembered voice chuckled. “If it isn't the Governor's errand boy and his girl friend! Hope we didn't interrupt anything.”

McCall sucked in his breath. It was Carry Tanner, and he wasn't alone. Shielding his eyes from the glare of the headlights, McCall could make out three others. Tanner stepped forward into the pool of light, and McCall saw the ancient black revolver in his hand.

“Put that away, Tanner. You aren't going to use it,” he said, but he didn't quite believe his own words.

“Mike, be careful!” April called from behind him.

Tanner gave a low mean chuckle. “We just came along to watch you and your girl, McCall. Go right on with what you were doin'.”

“Go to hell!”

“Or would you rather we took over for you? We're mighty good at that sorta thing.”

“I'll bet. But if that's what you've got in mind you'll have to use that gun first.”

Tanner barked a sharp command. “Hold him.”

Jack Kozinski, the youth who'd shown him the way to Mann's house, stepped forward to grasp McCall's arms.

“You too, Jack?” McCall asked.

Kozinski seemed pained by the words. “Some things have to be done. You're on Mann's side, against the strikers.”

“I saw your brother today, Jack.”

Kozinski hesitated, and turned back to Tanner. “Maybe we should let them go, Carry.”

“Hell, I'll handle him myself!”

McCall turned to April. “Start the car and get out of here. Drive across the field.”

“Not without you.”

Tanner passed the gun to the man at his side and moved in fast. Using his good left hand, he landed a quick blow to McCall's jaw. Staggered, McCall retreated a few steps. He knew he could take the man easily, but he was worried by the one with the gun. He moved forward again, striking quickly at the big man's nose. Blood spurted and Tanner gasped with pain.

McCall fell on him then, trying to lock his arms in a bear hug. Tanner twisted, unable to free himself, and shouted, “Shoot him! Shoot the damned scab!”

But Jack Kozinski stepped in front of the gun. “No, Carry. Not murder. Things are bad enough already.”

Tanner was busy wiping the blood from his nose. “What in hell is this? The Governor sends some stinkin' scab up here to break our strike and you all turn yellow! You afraid to stand up for your rights?” He waved his bandaged hand. “I get beaten up and shot at by this guy and you all stand around saying how bad things are!”