No Orchids for Miss Blandish Part 21

Miss Blandish lay across Rocco's vast divan, staring with blank eyes up at the ceiling.

At any other time, Rocco would have considered himself well off to have had such a beauty in his room, but now his mind was crawling with alarm, and this long-legged redhead could have been a shop window dummy lying on his bed for all her physical attractions meant to him.

I've got to play this smart, he had told himself when he had persuaded her finally to enter his apartment. It's no good calling the cops. I must contact Blandish. If I'm going to get my hands on that fifteen grand, he is my only hope. If I go to the cops, they'll gyp me out of the money.

He had already checked the telephone book, but Blandish's name wasn't in it. He had called information, but the girl couldn't or wouldn't tell him Blandish's number. When you are a millionaire you don't have your name in the book. This was something Rocco hadn't thought of. Now, after phoning most of the important clubs and restaurants asking for Blandish and getting nowhere, he was getting worried. If he didn't find Blandish soon, he told himself, he could be in trouble. At the back of his mind, he kept thinking of Slim. He couldn't imagine how Slim could possibly guess he had the Blandish girl, but if he did guess and if he did come here, then Rocco knew he wouldn't have long to live.

He had tried to stimulate the girl's memory by giving her the back copies of the newspapers that splashed the kidnapping across their pages. While he had been using the telephone, she had listlessly stared at the newspapers, but he could see she didn't connect herself with the photographs nor with the account of the kidnapping.

He looked over at her. She continued to stare up at the ceiling, her drugged eyes sightless.

"Hey, baby," Rocco said, aware now that they had been in this room for over two hours. "Will you try to concentrate. How can I contact your pa? I've called every lousy number I can think of and still I can't find him."

She moved her long legs as she continued to stare up at the ceiling. She didn't seem to be aware he was in the room.

Exasperated, Rocco went over to her and put his hand on her arm.

"Hey! Wake up!"

The touch of his hand brought a reaction that scared him. She wrenched away and crouched against the wall, her eyes wide with terror.

"Okay, okay," he said soothingly. "You don't have to be scared of me. Will you listen? I'm trying to find your pa. What is his telephone number?"

Miss Blandish cringed away from him.

"Leave me alone." she said. "Don't touch me!"

Rocco tried to control his rising panic.

"If I don't find your pa," he said, "we'll both be in trouble. Don't you understand? We'll have Slim here. How do I find your pa?"

She suddenly slid off the bed and ran to the door. She caught hold of the handle as Rocco reached her.

"Keep away!" she said shrilly. "Let me out of here!"

Sweating, Rocco threw her back onto the bed. He knelt over her, clamping his hand over her mouth.

"Shut up!" he said feverishly. "Do you want Slim to find you?"

She ceased to struggle and for the first time since she had been in the room, her eyes came alive. He took his hand off her mouth.

"Yes, I want Slim," she said. "I want him to come here!"

"You don't know what you're saying," Rocco said, staring at her. "Don't you want to go home? What's the matter with you?"

She shook her head.

"I haven't any home. I haven't anyone. I just want Slim."

Rocco stood up.

"I'm going to call the cops," he said. "I've had enough of this." He went over to the telephone, thinking, if they gyp me out of the reward, it'll be too bad, but I've got to get them here before Slim gets here.

He began to dial police headquarters. Miss Blandish made a sudden dive off the bed. She caught hold of the telephone cable and yanked it from its terminals.

For a long moment, Rocco, the dead telephone receiver clutched in his hand, stood staring at her, feeling a chill crawling up his spine.

"You crazy fool!" he snarled. "What do you imagine you're doing?"

She backed away from him.

"You must tell him you took me away," she said, wringing her hands. "You must tell him I didn't want to go with you."

"Why, you... you..." Words failed Rocco. "What's the matter with you? I'm trying to help you. Don't you want to get away from Slim?"

She leaned against the wall and she began to cry weakly.

"I can't get away from him. I'll have him with me to the end of my days."

"You're talking crazy!" Rocco cried. "I'm going to fetch the cops."

She slid along the wall to the door and set her back against it.

"No! You must wait here until he comes!" she said, her voice shrill. "You must tell him you took me away!"

Exasperated, Rocco caught hold of her arm and dragged her away from the door. He threw her onto the bed. As he turned to the door, she started up. Her hand closed around a heavy gla.s.s ashtray standing on the bedside table. She threw the ashtray at him. It caught him on the side of his head and he went down on his hands and knees, stunned.

Miss Blandish leaned against the wall, staring down at him.

Rocco tried to push himself upright, then he flopped down on his side, holding his head and groaning.

The sound of a door opening made Miss Blandish look across the room. The door leading to the bathroom was opening. She stood transfixed as the door swung fully open and Slim moved into the room.

Slim had come up the fire escape and through the bathroom window. His yellow, gleaming eyes moved from Miss Blandish to Rocco sprawling on the floor.

Only half conscious, Rocco sensed his danger. An instinctive feeling warned him he was but a heart beat away from death. He rolled over on his back, his hands raised in a futile gesture of protection.

Slim came forward. He was grinning.

Miss Blandish saw the glittering knife in his hand and she turned away, closing her eyes.

She heard Rocco whimper.

The sounds that followed made her sink onto her knees, her hands over her ears.

Each dull blow of Slim's knife into Rocco's body made her stiffen and shudder.

6.

For two interminable hours, Anna Borg had been locked in an isolated cell below stairs at Police headquarters. She was now both scared and exhausted. During the first hour she had yelled, screamed and cursed but no one had come near her. She felt buried alive and her nerves were rapidly going to pieces.

She kept asking herself why she had been picked up and bustled into this cell. When Eddie had rushed off to talk to Ma about Johnny, Anna had decided to quit. She had had enough of Eddie and the Paradise Club. As soon as she had heard his car drive away, she had thrown some clothes into a suitcase, taken Eddie's store of money he kept in the apartment against an emergency and had taken a taxi to the railroad station.

She had told herself she would go to New York. She knew she could always get some kind of a job in a clip joint until she had time to look around. Anything now seemed better than hanging around with Eddie and getting nowhere with a chance of getting caught up in some trouble with Ma Grisson and her stupid son.

But as she paid off the taxi, two large men stepped up to her from nowhere and one of them flashed a badge at her.

"Anna Borg?"

"You can say 'Miss', can't you?" Anna snapped, glaring at the two detectives. But for all her aggression, she had a sudden cold sinking feeling. Were these baboons going to arrest her?

"Police Chief wants to talk to you, baby," one of the men said. "Won't keep you long."

A police car slid up. Anna was aware that pa.s.sersby were pausing and staring.

"I've got a train to catch," she said angrily. "You can tell that egghead to drop dead."

A large hand rested on her arm.

"Come on, baby," the detective said persuasively. "You don't want trouble, do you? It won't take long."

"Take your paw off me!" Anna flared. She stood hesitating, then as the other detective moved forward, she got into the car. The two detectives got in after her and the car shot away. "I'll make trouble for you two," she threatened. "I'll get my lawyer to fix you! You'll be pounding a beat before you know where you are!"

The older of the two detectives laughed.

"Be your age, baby," he said. "Relax."

Anna swore at him, then relapsed into a sullen silence. Fear was nibbling at her. Had they connected her with Alvin Heinie's death? It seemed a long time since she had discovered that Heinie had been staying at her hotel and that he had ratted on Riley. She had gone to his room in a fit of furious impulse and had shot him as he had opened the door. She had regretted the act ever since. But up to this moment she had felt sure the shooting couldn't be traced to her; now she wasn't so sure.

At police headquarters, she had demanded to speak to her lawyer, but the desk sergeant merely gave her a bored, blank stare and waved to a hard-faced wardress who caught hold of her and pushed her, struggling and screaming down a pa.s.sage and into a dark cell. The door slammed and locked behind her.

The two-hour wait had quieted Anna. When eventually the lock snapped back and the door swung open, she jumped anxiously to her feet.

The wardress beckoned to her.

"Come on," she said. "The Chief's ready to talk to you now."

"Someone's going to pay for this!" Anna said but without much conviction.

She was led up the stairs, through the charge room and into Brennan's office. She came to an abrupt standstill in the doorway when she saw Fenner sitting on the window sill, Brennan behind his desk and two detectives leaning up against the wall. She stared at Fenner, her eyes round.

The wardress gave her a push and she staggered forward a few paces, then she heard the door close behind her.

"You're going to be sorry for this!" Anna yelled at Brennan. "I want my lawyer!"

"Sit down, Anna," Brennan said quietly. "I want to talk to you."

"Where do you get this Anna stuff from?" Anna snapped. "I'm Miss Borg to you."

"Sit down and shut up!" one of the detectives barked.

"Ape!" Anna shrilled, but she sat down, looking uneasily from Brennan to Fenner.

"We have reason to believe that Miss Blandish, the girl kidnapped four months ago, is being held at the Paradise Club," Brennan said.

Anna stared at him. Her face was bewildered.

"Have you gone nuts?" she demanded. "Everyone knows Frankie Riley s.n.a.t.c.hed the girl. What are you getting at?"

"That's what we thought, but we know different now," Brennan went on. "The Grisson gang took the girl from Riley. We're pretty certain she is in the club right now."

"Are you trying to frame Eddie?" Anna said, her eyes narrowing. "Don't expect me to help you, copper. I don't know nothing about any s.n.a.t.c.h."

Fenner said, "Time marches on, Brennan. Let her see the exhibits. If they don't soften her, nothing will."

Brennan nodded. He signaled to one of the detectives who moved over to Anna.

"Come on, baby. I've got something to show you."

Anna looked uneasily at Brennan.

"I want my lawyer. You can't keep me here..."

"Come on; don't talk so much," the detective said.

Anna got to her feet. She followed the detective out of the room. Fenner and Brennan exchanged glances.

"I don't think she knows anything," Brennan said. "We could be wasting our time."

"We can but try," Fenner said and lit a cigarette.

They waited.

After ten minutes or so, the door pushed open and the detective brought Anna back. He was supporting her. Her face was white and her eyes were pools of horror. She dropped limply into the chair and she hid her face in her hands.

"Can you identify him as Riley?" Brennan asked.

She shuddered.

"You dirty sonsofb.i.t.c.hes," she said. "How could you do this to me?"