No Orchids for Miss Blandish Part 13

"So the trail's cold?"

"It never was hot. It's a b.i.t.c.h of a case. The time and money we've wasted on it gives me nightmares. We're no closer to a solution than when we first started."

Fenner pulled a face. The vision of laying his hands on thirty thousand dollars now began to look remote. He got to his feet. Then a thought struck him.

"What did this Borg girl do for a living when she was going around with Riley?" he asked.

"She did a strip act at the Cosmos Club, strictly for peanuts, but her main meal ticket was Riley."

"The Cosmos Club?" Fenner suddenly looked thoughtful. He glanced at his watch. "Well, I'm wasting your time, Captain. If I turn up anything, I'll let you know."

"You won't," Brennan said, grinning. "There's nothing to turn up."

In a thoughtful mood, Fenner drove back to his office. He found Paula waiting for him although it was after six o'clock.

"You still here?" he said as he entered the office. "Haven't you a home to go to?"

"I'm scared to leave in case another millionaire walks in," Paula said, her blue eyes wide. "Oh, Dave! I've been planning how we'll spend all that beautiful money when we get it"

"The operative word in that pipe dream of a sentence of yours is when." Fenner walked into his office. Paula trailed after him. "Since you are still working, baby, make yourself useful. Check the dirty file and see if we have anything on Pete Cosmos."

During the years Fenner had been a newspaperman, he had systematically collected every sc.r.a.p of information concerning the activities of the big and little gangsters in town. He had collected an enormous library of facts that often came in handy when he was trying to persuade some hood to give him information.

In five minutes, Paula came into the office with a pile of newspaper clippings.

"I don't know what you're looking for, Dave," she said, "but here's everything we have on Cosmos."

"Thanks, sweetheart, now you trot off home. I've got work to do. How would you like to have dinner with me tonight to celebrate our riches?"

Paula's face lit up with delighted surprise.

"I'd love it! I'll wear my new dress! Let's go to the Champagne Room! I've never been there. I hear it's a knockout."

"The only knockout about that joint is the check," Fenner said. "Maybe we might go there when we have got our hooks into the thirty thousand, but not before."

"Then how about the Astor? For the money, they say it's the best in town."

"Don't be simple, baby. They didn't say for how much money, did they?" Fenner put his arm around her coaxingly. "I'll tell you where we'll go, the Cosmos Club. We'll combine business with pleasure."

Paula made a grimace as if she had bitten into a lemon.

"The Cosmos Club? That joint's not even a dive and the food's poisonous."

"Run along, baby, I've work to do. I'll pick you up at eight-thirty at your place," and turning her, Fenner gave her a slap on her behind, launching her fast to the door.

He sat down at his desk and began to read through the ma.s.s of clippings Paula had given him. After some thirty minutes, he made a telephone call, then he put the clippings back into the filing cabinet, turned off the lights in the office, locked up and went down to his car. He drove to his two room apartment where he took a shower and changed into a dark suit. He checked his .38 police special and put it in his shoulder holster.

He found Paula anxiously waiting for him. One of the important facts of life that Paula had learned the hard way was not to keep any man waiting. She was looking cute in a black dress, relieved by a red carnation. The cut of the dress accentuated her figure so that Fenner took a second look.

"What kills me," Paula said as she got into the car with a generous show of nylon-clad legs, "is I always have to buy my own corsage. The day you think of buying me one, I'll faint."

"Put your smelling salts away, baby," Fenner said, grinning. "I would never think of it. You haven't a worry in the world." He edged the car into the traffic. "I've got something on Pete. Boy! Won't his fat face turn red when I start talking to him."

Paula looked at him.

"I hope we'll eat sometime," she said. "I foresee you and that fat Italian sitting glaring at each other and grinding your teeth while I starve to death."

"We'll eat first, baby," Fenner said and patted her knee.

She firmly removed his hand.

"That knee is reserved for my future husband," she said. "You can have an option on it if you want it, but it'll have to be in writing."

Fenner laughed. He liked going out with Paula. They always seemed to have fun together.

The Cosmos Club was full when they arrived, but the maitre d'hotel, a seedy, narrow-eyed Italian, found them a table.

Fenner looked around and decided it was a pretty crummy joint. He hadn't been in the club for six months. He could see it had changed for the worse.

"Charming little morgue," Paula said, looking around. "I can't imagine anyone coming here unless they were too mean to go somewhere else."

Fenner let that one ride. He was studying the menu. He was hungry. A grubby looking waiter hovered at his side.

After a long discussion they decided on the iced melon, and duck cooked with olives to follow.

"At least we can eat the olives," Paula said. "Even the cook at the Cosmos Club can't spoil olives."

Fenner laughed.

"You wait and see. I bet you they'll be as tender as golf b.a.l.l.s."

But when the meal was served, neither of them could complain. It wasn't good, but at least they could eat it.

Between courses, they danced. Paula attempted to get romantic, but Fenner deliberately trod on her toes. The dancing wasn't a success.

While she was choosing dessert, Fenner pushed back his chair and stood up.

"Business now, baby," he said. "I'm going to talk to Pete. You go ahead and stuff yourself. I won't be long."

Paula smiled at him, her eyes furious.

"Go ahead, Dave darling, don't worry about me. I have lots and lots to talk to myself about. I'll expect you when I don't see you."

"If we weren't in a public place," Fenner said, stung, "I would put you over my knee and slap you humpbacked."

"A charming thought," Paula said, waving him away. "Run along and talk to your friend. I hope he spits in your right eye."

Grinning, Fenner made his way to Pete's office. He didn't bother to knock. He walked right in and kicked the door shut behind him.

Pete was adding up figures in a ledger. He looked up, startled. When he saw who it was, he scowled.

"Who told you to bust in here?" he demanded. "What do you want?"

"h.e.l.lo, fatty," Fenner said coming over and sitting on the desk. "Long time no see."

"What do you want?" Pete asked again, glaring at Fenner.

"Have you seen Harry Levane recently?"

Pete stiffened.

"No, and I don't want to. Why?"

"I've just been talking to him. Pete, you are in bad trouble." Fenner shook his head sadly. "Harry was telling me about the girl you took to Miami last summer. She was a minor. Pete! I'm surprised at you! You stand to get a two-year stretch for that little indiscretion."

Pete looked as if someone had driven a needle into his behind.

"It's a lie!" he shouted, his face white. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

Fenner smiled pityingly at him.

"Don't be a chump, Pete. Harry saw you with her. He hasn't forgotten you got him three years for the Clifford jewel steal. He's aching to put you away."

Pete's face broke out in a sweat.

"I'll kill the punk! He can't prove it!"

"He can. He knows who the girl is and he's talked to her. She's ready to sign a complaint."

Pete slumped back in his chair.

"Where is she?" he said, his voice husky. "I'll talk to her. I'll fix it. Where is she?"

"I know where she is. I know where Harry is. It'll cost you, Pete, but what's money," Fenner said. "But I'm not telling you if we can't do a deal. I want information. I'll trade what you want for what I want."

Pete glared at him.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing to it, Pete; just a little information. Do you remember Anna Borg?"

Pete looked surprised.

"Yes--what about her?'

"She worked here?"

"That's right."

"Did she ever hint that she knew where Riley was hiding out?"

"She didn't know. I'll swear to that."

"She did mention Riley?"

"I'll say! She was swearing and cursing about him all the time."

"How did she meet Schultz?"

Pete hesitated.

"This is a trade? You tell me where I contact that little b.i.t.c.h and Harry?"

"It's a trade."

"Schultz came here a few days after the s.n.a.t.c.h," Pete said. "He wanted to know how he could contact Anna. He said Ma Grisson wanted to talk to the girl. When I told him the Feds were watching Anna, he told me to call her and get her down here in this office. I wasn't here when they met, but a couple of days later, Anna quit working for me. She said she had been offered a better job. When the Grissons took over the Paradise Club, she started working there. Eddie and she are living together."

"Why was Ma Grisson interested in the girl?" Fenner asked.

Pete shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know."

Fenner got to his feet. He bent over the desk and scribbled two addresses on a scratch pad.

"There you are," he said. "I'd contact those two fast. Harry is aching to see you in jail. It'll cost you plenty to keep his mouth shut."

As Pete reached for the telephone, Fenner made his way back to the restaurant.

He found Paula talking animatedly to a slim, handsome gigolo who was leaning over her, looking with interest down the front of her dress.

Fenner gave him a heavy nudge.

"Okay, buster, set sail and fade away."

The gigolo looked quickly at Fenner's ma.s.sive shoulders and his pugnacious jaw and he hurriedly backed away.

"Don't let this ape worry you," Paula said. "Brush him off. One good smack in the jaw will fix him."

But the gigolo was already in retreat halfway across the room.

"Hi, baby, I'm surprised at the company you keep," Fenner said, smiling at her.

Paula leaned back in her chair and smiled at him.

"Did your Italian friend spit in your eye?"

"No, but that doesn't mean he didn't want to. Come on, baby. I want to go to bed."