Rockabye County 4 Read online

  For an instant something flickered and wiped the mocking sneer from Rosenthal’s face. Brad saw it. Alice, watching Marla, also caught a fleeting glimpse of a change. The air of mocking condescension went, was replaced by another expression and returned slightly diminished.

  Had fear caused the change? Apprehension at what answer might be given? The lipstick stain on Rosenthal’s mouth and the two obviously used glasses might supply a reason for the change in Marla, hinting as they did at a far closer relationship than that of employer’s wife and chauffeur.

  ‘Who wants to know?’ Rosenthal snarled in his hard-case’s voice.

  ‘Here or at the sheriff’s office?’ Brad countered.

  ‘Huh?’ grunted the chauffeur.

  ‘Do you answer here, or at the office? We want to know where you were last night at nine-fifty.’

  ‘Tell them the truth, Ben,’ Marla put in quietly.

  Rosenthal’s eyes swung towards her. For a moment he showed surprise, his mouth hanging open and the cigarette dropping to the expensive wall-to-wall carpet. Clearly he had not expected Marla to make such a suggestion.

  ‘What would be the truth, Rosenthal?’ Brad asked.

  ‘I’m afraid Ben has been a naughty boy,’ Marla purred before the chauffeur could reply. ‘It was his weekend off and he took my Lotus—and before you start making a Federal case out of it, both my husband and I allow Ben the use of our cars … Well, Ben took my Lotus …’

  ‘Suppose we let him tell it, Mrs. Blumfeld,’ Alice cut in.

  ‘Whatever you say, dear. And you can call me “Marla”. I’m still the same girl even though I have—well, you know what I mean.’

  A slight tinge of red crept into Alice’s cheeks and she looked at Rosenthal.

  ‘Sure, I took the Lotus,’ the chauffeur said.

  ‘Where’d you go?’

  ‘Up to Brazoria.’

  ‘That’s a fair piece from here. When’d you go?’

  ‘Left Friday at noon,’ Rosenthal replied, throwing glances at Marla.

  ‘Why'd you go?’

  ‘See a gal I know there.’

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Knock it off, Rosenthal,’ Brad snapped. ‘You know the routine …’

  ‘I think I’d better call my husband’s lawyer,’ Marla put in. ‘You seem to be exceeding your authority.’

  ‘He can answer here or at the office, ma’am,’ Brad answered.

  ‘Her name was Dodo, well that’s what we called her. She worked at the Rancho Grande, only she’d left.’

  ‘Where’d you stay in Brazoria?’ asked Alice.

  ‘Buckley’s Motel.’

  ‘And when did you get back here?’ Brad continued.

  ‘This morning, man, early. Your roadblocks stopped me on the State Auto Road. You can—’

  ‘I heard Ben come back and I believe Weems may have,’ Marla put in. ‘Shall I call him?’

  ‘We’ll take your word,’ Alice told the blonde.

  ‘What’s the beef, fuzz?’ Rosenthal asked.

  ‘Should there be a beef?’ Brad inquired.

  ‘Don’t feed me that! Nine-fifty last night. That’s when the badge was washed at the depot, I heard it over the newscast and read the papers.’

  ‘Sure!’ grunted Brad.

  ‘And you’re trying to make me for the kill?’

  ‘We’re making a routine—’ Alice began.

  ‘The hell you are! That badge was the one who put the arm on my old man and sent him down.’

  ‘It was,’ Brad agreed.

  ‘And you think I’d wash a badge just for that?’ Rosenthal scoffed. ‘Man, you’ve flipped. My old man was a drunken bum who got tagged and didn’t have the bread to grease a grafting fuzz.’

  Sudden anger glinted in Brad’s eyes. Tom Cord had been his friend and an honest peace officer who never took a dime from any man. Yet that cheap gutter-bum was accusing the old deputy of taking in a crook who could not buy his way clear.

  ‘Knock that talk off right now!’ Brad growled.

  ‘Yeah?’ sneered Rosenthal.

  Then he made a mistake.

  Figuring that Marla would throw her influence his way, and supply expert legal assistance to his protection, Rosenthal clenched his fist and threw a punch. It was a beautiful blow, driving out with his weight behind it. He dropped his shoulder slightly and drove his knuckles into the side of Brad’s jaw, knocking the big deputy back across the room.

  Gliding forward, Rosenthal walked into a backhand slap that slammed his head to one side. He had never expected any man to take a punch from him and come back for more. Staggering a couple of paces to the rear, he caught his balance and lashed up his foot as Brad came towards him. More than one street or barroom brawl went Rosenthal’s way when he delivered such a kick. Only this time he aimed it at a trained cop, the descendant of a fighting breed, and a man who knew how to handle his end in any kind of company.

  Brad’s left hand stabbed down, fingers clamping on Rosenthal’s kicking leg at the foot. Then the big blond swung the leg up and around, twisting on the foot. It left Rosenthal with no choice. The chauffeur’s other foot shot from the floor and he flipped over to land with a crash on his back.

  Bending, Brad clamped hold of Rosenthal’s jacket and hauled the chauffeur erect as easy as a nurse lifting a baby. Releasing the dazed man, Brad smashed a left into his belly. Rosenthal gave a croaking moan and folded over; right on to Brad’s other hand as it ripped up. Jerked erect, Rosenthal pitched back, struck the wall by the door and slid down in a limp heap.

  Then Brad became aware of a scuffling sound behind him.

  ‘Let go of me!’

  The words, spoken with more concentrated fury and hatred than Brad could ever remember hearing in a human voice, brought the big deputy around to look at the speaker.

  Alice stood holding Marla’s right arm twisted in a hammerlock with one hand, the other gripping the blonde’s left ankle and holding it bent backwards and from the floor. At their feet lay the whiskey decanter.

  Releasing Marla’s leg, Alice thrust the blonde away from her. Marla turned, spitting out a mouthful of curses more usual from a Bad-Bit hooker than an Upton Heights socialite. She stood facing Alice, breathing hard, fingers crooked and silver-painted nails like a cat’s claws when it strikes at a mouse.

  For a moment Brad thought Marla would throw herself bodily at Alice with raking nails and snapping teeth. So did Alice. She stood balancing herself lightly, hands balled into hard little fists. Neither girl spoke, but hate showed on their faces; more hatred than could have sprung merely from Brad’s handling of Rosenthal.

  Brad knew Marla would come off much the worse if she attacked Alice, for the redhead had experience in defending herself against other women. However, he also knew that nothing but trouble would come Alice’s way should she be forced to rough-handle Marla. This was not the Bad-Bit, but the upper crust Upton Heights Division. For all her language and actions, Marla was a woman of social position and not some drunken, arrest-resisting female crook.

  Yet the way the two women stood glaring at each other rendered Brad speechless. There was something awesome about two really angry women, especially beautiful women like Alice and Marla, that made a man uncertain of what to do for the best.

  Seconds ticked by. At any moment Marla would throw herself at Alice—

  ‘You rang, madam?’

  Never had a voice sounded so welcome to Brad’s ears. The words, the very manner in which they were spoken, broke the tension. Weems stood at the door, his face and voice showing no surprise at the scene before him. For all that showed, it might have been the normal thing in the house to walk into a room and find the chauffeur lying unconscious on the floor and Weems’ mistress looking as if she meant to attack another woman with tooth and claw.

  Marla let out a long breath and slowly her fingers straightened out. Letting her hands unclench, Alice flashed a glance at Brad. For a full ten seconds neither woman sp
oke. Then Marla’s arm stabbed out, pointing at Brad.

  ‘This man attacked Rosenthal without provocation.’

  ‘Really, madam?’ Weems answered, as calmly as if Marla commented upon the condition of the weather. ‘I didn’t see it.’

  Fury and amazement warred on Marla’s face. ‘You didn’t ’

  ‘Don’t try that, Marla!’ Alice snapped.

  ‘Mrs. Blumfeld to you—cop!’ Marla spat back.

  ‘All right, Mrs. Blumfeld. Your—chauffeur,’ Alice’s pause between the two words was full of implication and offence, ‘attacked Deputy Counter, and I prevented you striking my partner with a whiskey decanter.’

  Weems coughed to draw attention to himself. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t see that either, miss.’

  There Marla and Alice had it. Neither could use the butler as an independent witness to verify her story.

  ‘Did you see Rosenthal last night, Weems?’ Brad put in, throwing a warning look at Alice and wanting to get her out of the house before something happened which might bring her before the County Commissioners’ Disciplinary Board.

  ‘No, sir,’ the butler replied. ‘He came back in the early hours of the morning, around three or four I would say, having been away since Friday noon.’

  ‘If that satisfies you!’ Marla hissed. ‘I want you out of my house.’

  ‘That’s all, ma’am,’ Brad answered.

  ‘Then get out so I can call a doctor to see to Benny.’

  ‘You want to have him wash off the lipstick,’ Alice put in. ‘The doctor might not understand.’

  For a moment Brad thought Marla would attack Alice. The blonde’s face lost all its sensual attraction and looked old, vicious, hate-filled. He decided to make an effort to avert trouble and spoke without thinking.

  ‘Tell Rosenthal something for me, ma’am. I aim to get the men who killed Tom Cord. First thing in the morning I’m seeing every contact I have and passing word through the underworld that I’ll give ten thousand dollars to the man who brings me evidence that nails the man who killed him. My name’s Counter, one of the oil Counters, and I can afford to do it.’

  Marla’s eyes swung towards the big blond deputy, studying his expensive clothes and remembering an article she read in the Mirror mentioning Brad’s family background. With an almost visible effort she regained control of herself and her hand lifted. It shook slightly as she pointed to the door.

  ‘Get out!’

  ‘Do you intend reporting this incident to the I.A.B.?’ Brad asked. ‘The Internal Affairs Bureau. They handle complaints against county peace officers for the Commissioners.’

  ‘No. All I want is for you to get out of my house.’

  ‘Let’s go, Alice,’ Brad ordered.

  Alice’s eyes told him to mind his own business, but he ignored her glare. Then, with as much of an effort as Marla showed, Alice returned to normal. Swinging on her heel, she walked from the room and Brad followed.

  ‘Where’s Mr. Blumfeld, Weems?’ Brad asked as the butler opened the main doors for the deputies.

  ‘In the East on business, sir, but expected home momentarily. I hope this matter goes no further, sir. The master’s previous interests make him susceptible to unfavorable publicity.’

  ‘It’s over as far as I’m concerned,’ Brad said, and followed Alice from the house.

  Neither spoke and Brad took the lead as they drove from the Blumfeld place. However, on the way back to the office, while passing a restaurant, Brad signaled a turn and for Alice to follow him into the parking lot. Leaving her car, Alice walked to where Brad sat in the Oldsmobile calling in a ‘Code Seven’ to tell the dispatcher they were off watch to eat.

  ‘I don’t feel like eating,’ Alice said.

  ‘Nor do I,’ Brad answered. ‘But here’s as good a place as any for us to sit down while you tell me what’s between you and Mrs. Blumfeld.’

  ‘It’s personal.’

  ‘And I’m your partner. If I’m going to wind up before the Disciplinary Board, I want to know why. Come on inside.’

  Taking Alice’s arm, Brad escorted her firmly but gently into the restaurant and to an alcove clear of the other customers. After ordering a meal, Brad looked at Alice, waiting for her to begin.

  ‘Lord, Brad,’ she said. ‘I thought it all ended years ago. I’d never have believed I could hold a hate for this long.’

  ‘I figured you knew her from someplace.’

  ‘Here in town, when I was sixteen and at Lasher High. There were a bunch of us clubbed together, about a dozen boys and girls. We necked, never went beyond kissing. Then Marla made the scene. Her mother was a widow with a little money and Marla was spoiled rotten.’

  ‘It sounds like you didn’t like her,’ Brad remarked.

  ‘We never liked each other,’ Alice corrected. ‘You know how it is, Brad, there are some people you hate on sight. I think it may have stemmed from us being so different. The real hatred didn’t come until a few months later. Marla threw a party and only invited two of the gang, both girls. One of them got out when she saw the way things were going. The other—well Viv never had much sense. There were a bunch of the intellectual set from Cornwall University at the party and you know what they’re like. Viv found out she was going to have a baby—she took an overdose of sleeping pills.’

  ‘What happened then?’ asked Brad as Alice’s words trailed off.

  ‘I didn’t see Marla for a few weeks after Viv’s death. Then one day we were down on the Rockabye River, the gang, and one of the boys started showing some photographs of girl wrestlers. Then they got us girls wrestling, just for laughs. Marla showed up, one thing led to another and she and I started struggling. The other tussles hadn’t been much, we’d roll around, push and shove until one of us sat on the other and held her down. Not with Marla and I. The gang started to encourage us, until they saw how serious it was getting. It took all the boys to pull us apart. The girls helped us clean up and I told Mum some story about how I came to have a cut lip. I suppose Marla did the same about her eye, I put a mouse on it. Marla and I never spoke to each other after that. Three months later she entered a beauty contest, lying about her age, and won it. The prize included a screen-test in Hollywood and her mother took her out there.’

  ‘Did she make it as a movie star?’

  ‘No. Her mother died in a car crash shortly after they reached the Coast. I lost track of Marla after that.’

  ‘Why’d you reckon Rosenthal looked so worried when I asked him about his whereabouts last night?’ asked Brad.

  ‘So did Marla,’ Alice answered. ‘Judging by the way she’d been entertaining him, she must be cheating on her husband. But if Rosenthal’s story about his being out of town is true, that wouldn’t account for it.’

  ‘Maybe he’s blackmailing her, threatening to tell Blumfeld. Only a guy like Blumfeld would play rough. So neither of them wanted him to know about Rosenthal borrowing the Lotus for a run to Rosario. Her because of her indiscretion coming out and him for fear of what Blumfeld might have done to him.’

  Alice nodded in agreement. ‘That’s possible. A gambling biggie would know how to handle a punk like Rosenthal. Brad, thanks for getting me out of there.’

  ‘Forget it, that’s what a partner’s for. Here’s the food.’

  After a good meal, Alice walked back to her car with a lighter step than when she entered. For the first time since leaving the Blumfeld house she felt relaxed. It was good to have a partner in whom one could confide. Yet Alice hoped she would not meet Marla again. Next time Brad might not be there to keep her in check.

  Twelve

  On their return to the office, Alice and Brad reported to the watch commander. McCall listened to their report, which left out the trouble at the Blumfeld place, suggested they checked on Rosenthal’s story and told them the latest developments. Records and Identification had sent up a few more cards of Tom’s older cases, but nothing that looked even vaguely worth following up. So far the F.B.I. had not replied o
n the subject of the fingerprints found at the Bestwick. After much time and effort the police artists had produced sketches of ‘Sloane’ and ‘Jackson’, and copies had been circulated around the county.

  At ten o’clock the train’s crew arrived at the office. Although Alice and Brad questioned the railroad workers, they learned nothing. So, at shortly after eleven, McCall told them to log off watch.

  Taking her car from the municipal parking lot, after leaving Brad in the office, Alice drove home. She left her car at the Chadwick Building’s parking lot and entered the deserted-looking building. Entering the automatic elevator, she rode up to the first floor. The elevator’s light was not working and when it stopped at her floor, Alice found that the passage also lay in darkness.

  Just as she stepped from the elevator, a hand grabbed her bag. Normally she would have been holding the bag firmly, but did not expect trouble so close to home. So the bag’s strap slid from her shoulder and her grabbing fingers missed it as a medium-sized, plump female shape jerked it away and tossed it aside. Fingers gripped Alice’s shoulder, turning her. Through the light which filtered in from the windows at either end of the passage, Alice caught sight of another woman ahead of her, not the person who caught her shoulder. She had a vague recollection of a form clad in slacks and an anorak which effectively prevented too much of the figure showing, the raised hood covering the hair and, from the black, shapeless blur instead of white features, a veil of something covered the face. All this Alice saw as she was swung around.

  A tall girl wearing a shining mock-leather coat had caught Alice’s shoulder and, as the deputy came around, launched a blow with her other hand. By that time Alice had recovered from her surprise and reacted fast. Throwing up her left hand, she deflected the big girl’s punch and drove her right hard into the other’s belly. The girl gasped and rocked back a couple of steps, doubling over. Before Alice had a chance to follow up her right, two hands dug into her hair, tearing at it as she was swung around and sent sprawling across the passage into the other wall.