The Soft Centre

Terrell reached for the telephone.?‘Get me the Spainish Bay hotel. I want to talk to Mrs. Val Burnett,’ he said to the police operator.

A few minutes later, the operator told him Mrs. Burnett was out.

Replacing the receiver, Terrell shrugged.?‘I’ll leave this to you, Joe.’ he said. ‘I want to talk to her as soon as she gets back to the hotel, but let’s handle it carefully. Don’t let’s make a thing of it.’

‘What can Hare have on her… a woman like that?’ Beigler said, scowling. ‘Twenty thousand! What’s she been up to that he’s managed to throw that size hook into her?’

‘That’s what I want to find out,’ Terrell said.

He looked at the papers on his desk.?‘We seem to be getting nowhere fast with the Parnell killing. What are you doing about it. Joe?’

Exasperated, Beigler began to explain when the telephone bell rang.

Terrell listened to the excited voice coming over the line and Beigler saw his face harden. ‘We’ll be right over,’ he said. ‘Don’t touch anything,’ and he hung up. He stared at Beigler.

‘Spike Calder’s been found in a cellar room in his Club. Been dead some time.’

Beigler groaned.?‘What’s the matter with this town? Okay, I’m on my way.’?‘Could be Lincoln again,’ Terrell said. ‘He and Calder knew each other. Calder was stabbed. Could be where Jacko and Lincoln have been hiding out.’

Beigler nodded and ran from the office.?*****

Joan Parnell sprawled in the big shabby armchair, a black cat on her lap, a glass of gin and water in her hand. She stared glassily at Val who sat on the edge of her chair, a newly bought notebook in her lap, a fountain pen in her hand.

She had been careful to put on a simple grey dress. She wore no stockings and she had removed the varnish from her nails. As an after thought she had slightly disarranged her usually immaculate hair, but even with these touches, she felt she didn’t really look much like a reporter from the Miami Sun.

She realised with relief that Joan Parnell was so drunk, she need not have taken any care. The sight of this handsome woman, her face white, her eyes peering as if to focus her properly, her hand unsteady as she held her glass upset Val.

‘The Miami Sun?’ Joan said thickly. ‘That’s just a rag. What do you want?’?‘It’s about your sister,’ Val said, speaking slowly and quietly. ‘My Editor thinks you aren’t getting much help from the police. He has taken an interest in the case. The police don’t seem to be getting anywhere and he thought if you could give me some information, we might spotlight the case and get the police to take more interest.’

‘Do you imagine I need the help of a rag like the Miami Sun?’ Joan said. ‘I’ll tell you something: I knew the police wouldn’t do a thing. I’ll tell you why: my sister was a whore. The police couldn’t care less about whores. I’ll tell you what I’ve done. I’ve gone to the best detective agency in this rotten town and I have paid them good money to find out who killed my sister. Tell that to your Editor!’

‘Would that be Hare’s Investigating Agency?’?‘Who else? I said the best, didn’t I? And when they find the man who killed my sister, that fool Terrell is going to look damned small!’

Val’s mind moved swiftly. It became obvious to her that Hare was now double-crossing this woman so he could blackmail Val herself. He had found out something that the police knew nothing about and instead of telling this woman, he had come to her with this blackmail proposition.

‘Have you heard from the Agency yet?’ Val asked.?‘Not yet. I’m giving them a little time. I’ll hear… they’re smart.’?‘I see.’ Vat pretended to write something in her notebook. ‘But perhaps you have your own idea who killed your sister, Miss Parnell? This, of course, would be off the record.’

‘There is one bastard who could have done it,’ Joan said, brushing the cat off her lap and sitting upright. ‘That’s Lee Hardy. He threw her out and is shacked up with a pug faced bitch who calls herself Gina Lang. I’ll tell you something: Sue wouldn’t stand for any man throwing her out. It’s my bet she made trouble for that heel and he’s fixed her. I told that fool Terrell, but he wouldn’t listen. You go and talk to Hardy. You can tell him from me, I think he did it! Now get out of here!’

‘Where do I find him?’ Val asked, writing the name in her book.?‘Oh, in the phone book,’ Joan said impatiently and got unsteadily to her feet. ‘You tell your Editor I’m going to find the man who killed my sister! I can do without the help of his rotten rag!’

As Val got into the waking taxi and told the driver to take her to the nearest drug store, Lee Hardy sat in his office counting the money he had finally raised for Jacko and Moe’s get away stake. He had had considerable difficulty in raising five thousand dollars. His bank account was overdrawn and the manager had flatly refused him further credit. He had had to go around to several of his bookmaker pals and talk them into advancing sums until the sums totalled five thousand dollars.