The Soft Centre

Terrell looked at Jacobs, then at the brief-case. Jacobs picked up the case, opened it and poured its contents on to the desk.

At this moment the door opened and Beigler came in. At the sight of the money covering the desk, he paused.

‘You been robbing a bank, Chief?’ he said. ‘That looks a lot of dough to me.’?‘It does, doesn’t it?’ Terrell said. ‘Let’s see just how much there is here.’?‘Don’t touch it!’ Karsh exclaimed. ‘That belongs to Hare! He told me to put it in a safe deposit.’

Then seeing the three men were staring at him, he went on hurriedly, ‘It’s nothing to do with me!

It’s Hare’s money! I was just…’?‘Shut up!’ Beigler snapped. ‘You want me to give you a poke in the eye?’

Karsh gulped. He was scared of Beigler. He stood, white and sweating, while Jacobs counted the money.

‘Twenty thousand,’ he said finally.

Terrell leaned back in his chair and regarded Karsh with cold, forbidding eyes.?‘Who gave you this money?’?‘I told you… Hare. He told me to put it in a safe deposit bank. I don’t know nothing about it!

‘Yeah? You know Hare hasn’t this kind of money. Where did he get it?’?‘He didn’t tell me. Ask him! Don’t ask me!’?‘I think the wasp’s worrying this punk again,’ Jacobs said. ‘Okay for me to swot it?’

‘Take him away,’ Terrell said. ‘I don’t like seeing insects killed. You might tell the boys that Sammy Karsh is here. They’ll want to get rid of the wasp with you… you mustn’t be selfish, Max.’

Grinning Jacobs caught hold of Karsh and locking his arms behind him, he shoved him out of the office. Karsh yelled and struggled, but Jacobs handled him effortlessly. Finally Karsh’s yells died away and Terrell looked at Beigler.

‘Now what are you going to do?’ Beigler said. ‘That punk mightn’t sing.’?‘I’m going to talk to Homer Hare,’ Terrell said grimly and reached for the telephone.

*****

As Val walked down Main Street, her mind busy, she became aware of hurrying footfalls behind her… the tap, tap, tap of high heels, and she glanced around. A girl was coming up behind her, and as Val looked around, the girl smiled hopefully.

‘Oh, Mrs. Burnett…’

Val stopped and turned.

The girl was shabbily dressed. She wore a grubby white sweater, a skirt that had an oil stain on the front of it, and her shoes were run down. She was around twenty-three, a badly dyed blonde, unattractive and her complexion was bad.

‘Oh, Mrs. Burnett, you don’t know me, but of course, I know, you,’ the girl said. ‘I am Mary Sherrek. I know you have never heard of me, but I’m a representative of the Miami Sun. It’s not much of a paper, but I did so hope…’ She paused and looked hopeless at Val in her neat dress, looking with envy at her perfect grooming. ‘I don’t suppose you want to talk to me but I just had to… well, I just had to speak to you.’

‘That’s all right,’ Val said. ‘What is it?’?‘You really mean you don’t mind me speaking to you? That’s wonderful. You wouldn’t give me an interview, would you? I—I — well, I…’ She stopped and looked uneasily at Val who waited. The girl finally went on, ‘About your husband … he disappeared, didn’t he? It would be wonderful for me if you could tell me something about him. You see, I’m not very good at this job and I think they are going to get rid of me. But if I could go back there and give them an exclusive interview with you… well, it would… you understand?’

While the girl was stammering this out, Val scarcely listened. Her sharp mind was busy. She suddenly saw how it could be possible for her to begin to find out the mystery behind Sue Parnell’s death. The idea that had flashed into her mind sent her blood racing excitedly through her body.

‘Let’s go over there and have a coffee,’ she said. She led the way across the street and into a cafeteria that was almost empty. She ordered two coffees while Mary Sherrek sat clutching her shabby bag, staring at Val with wide, expectant eyes.

‘You really mean you will give me an interview, Mrs. Burnett?’ she said. ‘It would save my life. Honest. They are ready to throw me out. If I…’

‘How long have you been working for this newspaper?’ Val asked.

Mary Sherrek looked startled.?‘About six months. I got a diploma through a Correspondence College. But I don’t think I’m really much good. I just haven’t…’

‘But have you a press card?’?‘Oh yes. I couldn’t go around without a press card, but it doesn’t mean much. It just gets you into places.’

‘Could I see it, please?’?‘Of course.’

The girl took the Press card from her bag and offered it to Val who studied it for a brief moment. It merely stated that Mary Sherrek represented the Miami Sun, and she should be granted facilities to assist her in her work. There was a depressing photograph of the girl stuck on the card which was signed by Chief of Police Terrell.

Val put the card on the table.?‘Do you want to go home, Mary?’

The girl’s eyes opened wide.?‘I can’t go home. My folk live in New York. I just haven’t the money to get there. No, I can’t go home,’