Safer Dead

Nothing happened of interest during the next three days. I knew there was bound to be a time lag before any results of Creed’s investigations bore fruit. He had given various police officers assignments to cover, and we had to wait for them to turn up something. He had men hunting for Henry Rutland and his cream and green Cadillac; other men digging into Fay Benson’s background; a squad hunting for the charm bracelet, and yet another bunch of men digging into the gunman’s past.

We couldn’t expect to learn anything immediately, and while we waited I sent Bernie back to New York to report in full to Fayette and to begin the first installment of our story. He went off with indecent haste, insisting on a bodyguard to the train.

I took the Crime Facts photographer, a guy named Judson around and got him to take pictures of Spencer, Mike’s bar, Joan Nichols’s apartment house, the miniature apple I got from Creed and pictures of the various police officers working on the case. All this took time, but when I was through I was satisfied I had a good collection of art to help Bernie’s article.

Judson flew back to New York on the evening of the third day after the shooting, and I drove over to police headquarters to see if any information had come in.

Scaife was in the charge room as I entered.

‘I was going to call you,’ he said. ‘The captain wants you.’

‘Has he got anything?’

‘He’s got something. He’ll tell you. Come on up.’

Creed was sitting at his desk, smoking a cigar when I entered his office. His heavy, hard face looked tired.

‘Come in,’ he said, fighting a yawn. ‘Well, we’re getting somewhere. Sit down.’

I sat down and Scaife leaned against the wall.

‘The gunman’s name’s Hank Flemming. He came from Frisco. He had a bad record, including six killings. He’s known to have hired himself out for shootings and beatings-up. For fifty bucks he’d have shot his own father. I guess someone hired him to knock you off. He’s a junky, and Doc says he was full of dope when he staged the shooting the other night. You were lucky to have come out of it alive.’

‘So we have to find the guy who hired him?’

‘That’s right, and it won’t be easy,’ Creed said, tapping ash off his cigar. ‘We’ve a pointer that might do us some good. Flemming had a return railroad ticket to Tampa City in his pocket. He left Frisco five days ago for Tampa City, then came on here. It could be he got his orders from someone in Tampa City.’

‘Do the Tampa City police know anything about him?’ I asked.

Creed scowled.

‘They say they don’t, but from past experience I’ve learned not to take much notice of what they say. They’re the most inefficient, uncooperative police force in the country. The

Commissioner, Ed Doonan, is hand in glove with the rackets, and believe me, the city is crawling with them. We’re not going to get any help from him.’

‘Did you get a line on Henry Rutland?’

Creed shook his head.

‘Not yet. The Cadillac distributing agents in this district tell me they have sold four hundred green and cream convertibles in the past three years. I have a list of the buyers, but it will be a job tracing them. Rutland’s name doesn’t appear on the list, but then that doesn’t surprise me. The name’s probably a phoney. My men are working on it, but it’ll take some time to check everyone on it.’ He fought back another yawn. ‘We’ve got a line on the charm bracelet. It was hocked three days after Fay Benson disappeared. Tierney’s, the local hockshop, handled it. Hesson sold it to them. The clerk recognized Hesson’s picture. The bracelet was sold again to an actress who is in Hollywood now. We’re contacting her. There’s no doubt that Hesson sold it.’

‘Nothing on Fay Benson yet?’

‘A little: could be something. You saw the pictures we had printed in the national papers? We got a heap of letters and they are still coming in. People claim to know her, but I guess most of them will turn out to be cranks. One guy says he thinks he recognizes her, although she was dark haired when he knew her. He’s not at all sure, and it might be a false lead, but I’m hoping it isn’t. He says she did a job for him once. Guess where.’

‘Tampa City?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Well, that’s not bad for three days’ work. What are you going to do? Will Tampa City police dig further for you?’

‘I doubt it,’ Creed said, scowling. ‘I’ve never known them yet to work with me. They’ll promise the world, but nothing ever gets done.’

‘Suppose I go out there and see what I can dig up?’

Creed nodded.

‘I was going to suggest that. We’d get on quicker. You’ll have to watch your step. Doonan hates private investigators worse than he hates poison. They are a tough bunch of boys, and they might discourage you if they know what you’re up to.’

‘I’ll watch out,’ I said. ‘Know anyone there who could be helpful?’