The Vampire Files, Volume Five, page 19
part #11 of The Vampire Files Series
Damn. I wish I’d thought of that, too. Evie might have taken refuge there given the chance. Strome and his men wouldn’t get over for some hours yet. “I’ll call Derner for the address.”
9
ALAN Caine’s rooms were at a good hotel, which meant Kroun and I had to get around the night man out front. It wasn’t hard. From a drugstore phone booth I called the desk, said that I was Caine, gave the room number, and instructed him to let up two of my friends as soon as they came in.
“And show them respect,” I imperiously added. “They’re important.” I was taking a chance the guy on the line knew Caine’s voice. On the other hand, if I was bossy enough, he might fall for it. Must have worked; I got a weary “yes, Mr. Caine” in reply.
Kroun drove half a block and parked across the street. We walked into the lobby. “I’ll handle it,” he said, and veered away. He murmured to the clerk there, who eventually nodded and handed over a key.
“When the cops start investigating, he’ll remember your face,” I said.
“Yeah, but by then I’ll probably be back in New York, won’t I? Besides, I got one of those hard-to-remember mugs.”
He had to be kidding. The clerk noticed us, noticed Kroun, the moment we came in. There was no dampening of his magnetism at all. On the other hand I was wallpaper by comparison and content to stay that way.
He continued, “Most people only see the white streak in my hair, and I kept my hat on. Let’s go.”
The elevator was one of those fancy push-button ones that didn’t need an operator. Everything these days was going automatic, from gearshifts in cars to toasters. Looked like another job was being shut down in the name of progress.
We stopped on the fourth floor, doors magically heaving open on their own. I noticed the fire exit was close to Caine’s room. That would be convenient for Strome when the time came.
Kroun unlocked, let the door swing open, and paused, listening. No radio going. In a place like this a loud radio would be investigated. So would gunshots. He went in, flipping on the light.
Yeah, Caine had done himself swell. His shades were up, the curtains wide. He had a wide slice of view of the street below. Nothing spectacular, but better than Jewel’s or Evie’s lot.
Evie didn’t jump out at us. Neither did anyone else. We went through each room more thoroughly than they deserved.
Maid service had been in that day. The bed was in order, fresh towels in the bath, wastebaskets emptied. His clothes were hung up or in a hamper. In the living room was a studio piano parked against the outside wall, a stack of sheet music, and a well-stocked bar. He’d taken generous samples from all the bottles and had a preference for scotch to judge by the many brands.
The hotel’s furnishings were in place but no pictures were on display except his own. Handsome portraits abounded. Caine had been a man thoroughly in love with himself.
“Ain’t that cute?” Kroun pointed to a large, beautifully executed nude photo of Caine that had a place of honor hanging above the sofa.
Caine was posed full length, but sideways to the camera so nothing really showed, but there was no doubt he had a body to match his perfectly sculpted face. Every lean muscle showed in the play of shadow and light over his form. I knew a thing or two about photography from my days as a reporter, and understood the kind of work that had gone into making such a picture. You had to be able to get the whites white and the blacks black, yet preserve the countless shades of gray in between.
“That cost him a bundle,” I said.
“Must have been stuck on himself real bad. Only guys I know who put up pictures of themselves are funny. I’ve never seen one go this far, though. Singers.”
“Vanity’s expensive, all right.” I went to a desk and dug in, finding nothing as eye-catching as the portrait. Caine had bills, clothing receipts, old letters, and handwritten IOUs. Lots of those. Nothing for less than a hundred, and several for over a thousand. Trusting souls. They must have fallen for the pretty face and charm, too. The people he owed used nicknames mostly, but perhaps Derner might know some of them. Rather than mess up the investigation for the cops, I pulled out a hotel envelope from the stationery drawer and scribbled down those that were legible. One of them might have gotten fed up waiting to collect and decided to get fatal.
I found an address book and decided to take it along. Plenty of names—and nicknames—and numbers for both Chicago and New York exchanges to tell by the prefix letters. I could mail it to the cops later. Or not.
Kroun saw what I was doing, grunted approval, and went over the rest of the place again, poking in cupboards. He whistled once, having found a respectable cache of beer in the pantry, with an even larger number of empty bottles crated and ready to go back for the deposits. “Nothing,” he announced when I was done copying. “No Evie, but some of her clothes are in his bureau. It’s sweet stuff.”
“Maybe he was going to pawn it,” I said. I told him what Jewel had said about Caine hocking step-ins.
“You mean women buy stuff like that at a—” He shook his head. “You’re kidding. I’ve never seen those at a pawn shop.”
“Ah, Jewel was kidding. Maybe. My girlfriend doesn’t tell me where she gets her scanties, and I don’t say where I buy my drawers. I’m glad to leave it at that.”
Kroun snorted a laugh. “That it for here?”
“Yeah.”
I went down the fire escape to see where it came out, which was an alley. Strome could use it as a means of getting in the flat.
When I returned, Kroun considerately inquired after my health. Damn. I should have tied a string to my finger so I could remember to act feeble.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Just watching out for you. That’s what friends do.” He smiled. It was ingenuous, almost too much so, like he had a private joke.
Was he remembering what I put in his mind the other night? The words were a close echo to what I’d given him. There’d be hell to pay if he shook off the suggestions and recalled my vanishing act. The hell would be in my head, since I’d have to put him under again. It could kill me.
We went out the front way, so the night clerk could see us leaving. He didn’t ask for the key back, but considering the way Caine treated people, it was not surprising. The staff must have gone out of their way to avoid all unnecessary contact with their guest, and were willing to extend the policy to anyone associated with him.
Fine with me. We’d need that key for later.
Once outside, the cold returned to my bones. I’d almost been able to put it aside up in Caine’s flat. It wasn’t as bitter as before, but I would be glad when the night was over so I could lose myself in oblivion again. Even when unaware of the passing hours it was still a time of healing. I wanted it to heal me from this before it drove me crazy.
Crazier.
WHEN we got back to Gordy’s office Derner was at the big desk, up to his eyeballs in paperwork, phone calls, and loose cash from the casino. Another guy at a nearby table thundered away at a calculation machine, punching in numbers as fast as he could read from a clipboard and pulling the lever. Derner looked on my return with too much relief. I knew I was in for it.
Over on the couch, with two of the tougher lugs standing guard, lay a man, gagged, blindfolded, and hands bound behind him.
“What the hell is this?” I demanded, and only my surprise kept me from roaring the walls down.
“We found him for ya, Boss,” said one of the lugs, grinning.
“Found who?”
Derner slammed the phone receiver and came around the desk. “These two brains ain’t listening to me—”
“Found who?” The guy didn’t look familiar.
“That kidnapper you want so bad, Boss,” said the lug.
I stared at the figure on the couch. He wasn’t moving much, but from what I could read off his posture he was scared shitless.
“The kidnapper?” said Kroun. Hands in pockets, he cocked his head, highly interested.
“Dugan?” I went closer. Gave what I could see of his face a good long look. Pulled the gag off. The mouth was all wrong, and so was the voice that went with it.
“PleaseforGodsakedontkillme! I don’t know nothing about anything! I swear! I got a wife and kids an—”
“Shuddup!” I snarled.
He shut up.
“Hey!” I said to Derner.
He approached. Cautiously. “Yeah, Boss?”
“Get rid of adding boy there, he’s giving me a headache.”
He stopped the man from punching more buttons and told him to take a short hike. The guy went, shutting the door. Except for faint band music that I could hear even through the soundproofed walls, it was very quiet.
“Okay,” I said, tiredly. “Let’s keep it short. You with the blindfold. What’s your name?”
“J-j-john C-c-c-oward, sir. I’m from W-waukegan and—”
“Stop.”
He stopped.
I found his wallet. Showed the driving license to the lugs. “Gentlemen, may I introduce you to Mr. John Coward of Waukegan?”
“Naw, he’s the guy! He’s just like the picture in the papers!”
“Yeah-yeah, just like an apple looks like an orange. You got the wrong man.”
“But—”
I didn’t need the evil eye to freeze him, I was that mad. He rocked back and put up a protesting hand. It cut no ice with me. “Get out of here before I ventilate the both of you. And spread the word that the hunt for Dugan is over.”
“But if you ain’t caught him yet…”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said through my teeth. “It’s over, called off, finished, finito, shelved in a box. Anything about that you didn’t understand?”
They shook their heads.
“Get out.”
They got.
“Derner?”
“Yeah, Boss?”
“Did you have any kind of a conversation with them or Mr. Coward?”
“Yeah, Boss. I tried to tell those two, but they wouldn’t listen. They said you’d tell it straight, so they parked here. They found this guy in a craps game, made him to be Dugan, and been carting him all over Chicago trying to find you, first at your club, then your house, then that gumshoe’s office…”
“Oh, my God.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “They’re dumber than Ruzzo.”
“Well, they kept him in the car trunk so no one would see. Ruzzo wouldn’t have done that…”
I snarled, and he corked it. Glanced at Kroun. He was doing his almighty best to not laugh. John Coward sat very still and trembled, his head high. He must have been able to see a little out the bottom of the blindfold. “Okay, I get the picture. Mr. Coward, I’m going to have someone take you back to wherever you belong.”
“N-not gonna kill me?”
“Not going to kill you. They thought you were someone else, and I apologize for that. If you’d like to forget about this mistake, we will, too. I’ll have to insist you keep the blindfold on for the time being. In this case what you don’t know can’t hurt you.”
“Anything, whatever you want, anything, please! I won’t say a word.”
“That’s good enough for me. I suggest you stay away from craps games in the future, hm?”
“Yes, whatever you want I’ll do it!”
I went to the desk, shuffled together five hundred bucks, folding it into Coward’s wallet. I put the wallet into his pocket. “Just remember: none of this happened.”
“Nothing, not anything.”
“If we see your face again, well, you wouldn’t be happy. Now we’ll get you back to the wife and kids where you belong. You just say where you want to go.”
Derner took his arm and stood him up, walking him slowly toward the door like an invalid. I didn’t relax until they were well down the hall.
“What a night.” I groaned and eased onto the couch.
Kroun finally cut loose. He didn’t quite bust a gut, that wasn’t his style, but his laughter was catching. I succumbed in a much more moderate way. Oddly, the chill inside lessened. Yeah, I was onto something there in regards to a cure. It didn’t last. It couldn’t. Not with Caine’s body still in the dressing room below and Jewel lying in her own blood and brains halfway across town. The cold came back, but I was able to ignore it better. Just had to stay busy, that’s all.
Kroun found a chair, sat, and put his feet up on Gordy’s desk. “You know what you should do?”
“Tell me.”
“Find yourself a quiet shore on one of these lakes, settle in, and see what you can do about decimating the local fish population.”
I’d have never suspected that he knew such big words. “I don’t eat fish.”
“That’s not the point.” He shook his head. “It’s not about eating fish. It’s about fishing. For fish. Just…just…fish.”
He had an idea there. It was right up there with Escott thinking I should take a vacation. Kroun angled his hat over his face and clasped his hands over his stomach. I got the impression that was how he did his fishing.
Derner returned. “The guy’s on his way home. Sorry about that, Boss.”
“Never mind. The other boys know the hunt’s canceled?”
“The word’s getting spread now. No one’s gonna be in a good mood over losing that ten Gs.”
As though some of them could resent me even more. “They’ll tough it out. You got the lowdown about the backstage people?”
“Yeah. A big fat nothing. They saw plenty of it.”
“Good trick,” said Kroun, from under his hat. “Seeing nothing.”
“Who was backstage?” I asked.
Derner parked his duff on the desk and crossed his arms. “That I know of: the dancers, eight of them, the stage manager, Caine, and Mrs. Caine. Seven of the dancers were having a break while Caine did his solo. They said Evie left to hang around just offstage, waiting for him. She usually did.”
“They all stayed in their dressing room?”
“Talking with Jewel Caine. She was happy about getting a job, wouldn’t say where, and they was just gabbing. You know. Hen-talk.”
“Yeah. I know.” My mouth went dry.
“Just before Caine’s number finished Jewel went out for a smoke. She said she didn’t want to bump into him when he came backstage. With all this talking the girls was running late and stayed in the dressing room to get ready for the next show. Next thing they know the stage manager shoves his snoot in and tells ’em to stay put, then locks the door. They were still plenty mad about that, saying if there was a fire they’d be cooked, but—”
“Where was the stage manager all that time?”
“Well, after he found Caine he stayed in the hall to keep watch, so if there was a fire, he coulda let them out easy enough. He called one of the busboys over and sent him up to get me, then I ran into Strome on the way down. By then the manager got a couple more guys in to watch the other end of the hall. They didn’t see anyone.”
“What about before he found Caine?”
“He was up in the lighting booth. There was a problem with one of the spots, and he had to find a spare bulb. The lighting guy backed him. The manager didn’t leave the booth until after Caine was offstage.”
“So he had opportunity.”
“But no reason. He’s not big, either; you’ve seen him. Caine was near twice his size. He could have fought him off.”
“Ya think?” asked Kroun. “If Caine was taken by surprise…”
Derner shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. The manager’s been with us for years, and Caine was just another act to him. He cares more about this club’s staging than anything else. Even if he had a reason to bump Caine, he’d have done it some other place. He’s show people, and they’re all crazy that way.”
“Okay,” I said. “He’s off the suspect list until we get desperate. No one saw where Evie went?”
“The girls said she went with Caine into his dressing room. She was usually in there during his breaks. They thought they were being on the sly, but everyone knew.”
“So maybe Evie did do it,” said Kroun.
“When we find her we’ll ask her,” I said. “And Hoyle. And Ruzzo. And Mitchell.” All I needed was to check hands and arms for scratches. I thought about sharing that detail with Kroun, but held back. Mitchell was still his boy. Under his protection.
“Mitchell?” Derner was surprised and glanced uneasily at Kroun for his reaction, only there was none.
“Just covering the bases,” I added. “Mr. Kroun doesn’t mind.”
“It’s business,” Kroun put in with a snort. “Biz-iii-nessss.”
I got Derner’s attention back. “Have you seen Mitchell tonight?”
“Only earlier. I heard he left before the ruckus.”
“Find out for sure. See to it the guys are looking for all five of them and it’s only to talk. I want everyone alive and undamaged. Let the boys know when I say talk I mean only talk. No sparring sessions, no turkey shoots.”
“What if the ones they’re after shoot first?”
He got a look from me.
“Okay-okay!” He left to take care of things. After a minute of thinking about it, I moved to the desk and the phone there. Kroun still had his feet up on the edge.
“Nice shoes,” I said.
“Thanks.”
I dialed Lady Crymsyn’s lobby phone.
Wilton answered pretty fast this time. “Yes, Mr. Fleming?”
“How di—ahh, never mind. Everything going okay there?”
“No problems. We had a good night. Good shows, lotta people. You want I should get Mr. Escott?”
“Nah. Just tell him or Bobbi that I won’t be back, so they’ll have to close. It’s business.” They’d both understand. Wilton said he’d pass the message, and I hung up.
“Biz-iii-nessss,” Kroun drawled, then snorted again.
I checked the clock. “It’s pretty late. If you’re tired…”
“Just resting my eyes, kid. There’s still one more errand to run tonight.”
KROUN had surprised me about overseeing the transport job. I’d have thought he’d want to stay well clear of a potential disaster if anything went wrong. Instead, he sat in the front seat of Gordy’s Caddy with me on the passenger side. We were parked just up the street from Caine’s hotel. It was so late that only the deep-night creeps were out—which included us and a select few others.
