Point of Contact Page 7

  All were asked to furnish details of killings with a similar modus operandi, or records of criminals who regularly used soft-point bullets from any kind of weapon, especially a .30 Luger. More than one crime had been solved because its perpetrator had used the same M.O. on other occasions.

  The New York Police Department were requested to send all the information they possessed about Austin Hagmeyer. In Rockabye County, the Firearms Registry received instructions to supply the names and addresses of any local citizens who owned .30 Lugers. No car had been found in the garage of 28 East Shore Drive, so Alice called the G.C.P.’s Airport Detail and asked them to check if Hagmeyer had arrived on a flight. Learning how he reached Gusher City might prove informative.

  Despite all the official bodies working for them, the deputies did not rest. They had other, less formal yet on occasion equally effective, sources of information. Every peace officer engaged in detection work gathered stool-pigeons, those eyes and ears in the underworld willing to collect and pass on news of crimes or criminals. The moral considerations of using paid informers were often debated by people unconcerned with actual law enforcement, but most officers would admit that their work frequently depended for its success on information obtained in that manner.

  Before leaving the Office to grab a meal at the Badge Diner, a favorite haunt for peace officers working out of the D.P.S. Building, Alice and Brad told McCall of their intention to make the rounds of their informers. Despite receiving the Watch Commander’s approval, that could not be done in an official vehicle for obvious reasons. So they used Alice’s Mustang and took along a small, powerful, but easily-concealed General Electric ‘Voice Commander’ two-way radio to maintain contact with Central Control.

  By planning their route carefully, they hoped to visit the majority of their informers as quickly as possible. If the murders were tied in with a moonshine-combine war, or committed by a professional killer on a contract, the news of it might have leaked through the underworld. Due to the similarities of the M.O.’s, yet apparently unrelated backgrounds of the victims, the deputies considered the latter a possibility. They hoped that one or another of their informers could supply the answer.

  Luck appeared to favor them, for they hit pay-dirt on their third call. Alice’s stool-pigeons generally tended to concentrate on the affairs of female criminals. However, like members of the Bureau of Women Officers, they very often possessed knowledge of the male side of their profession’s activities.

  Contacting a stool-pigeon could not be done in an open, straightforward manner. Being able to talk unobserved was an important factor and precautions must be taken if the peace officer wished to avoid investigating the sudden death of the informer. Aware of that, Alice and Brad had expected their task would be a lengthy process and that they might not be able to speak with some of the stool-pigeons.

  One of Brad’s informers had been unavailable for discussion. Although the second knew nothing, he had promised to go on the ear and notify the big blond of his findings. The deputies’ next call had been to the first of Alice’s coterie. Watching his partner leave the Turkish baths she had been visiting, Brad sensed from her attitude that she had had better luck. She did not go there for the beneficial pleasures offered by the baths, but to contact a stool-pigeon. Being a masseuse in a place attended by most of the city’s better-class hookers, seeking to remove the lesser ravages of their trade, the woman picked up scraps of information and passed them on to Alice.

  ‘We’ve got a hot one, Brad,’ Alice announced, slipping into the passenger seat at his side. ‘There’s nothing like the woman’s touch.’

  ‘So gloat and have your moment of triumph, boss lady,’ he answered. ‘What is it?’

  ‘There’s a hired gun in town, rooming at the Baxter,’ Alice replied. ‘He could be our man. A hooker who knew him in New York saw him going in there at around eight yesterday morning.’

  ‘Is she sure he’s rooming there?’

  ‘Anna says so. The hooker was talking in the steam-room about him. It seems she knew him when he was enforcing for the Syndicate in New York and recognized him as he was getting his room key at the desk. She’d been at the Baxter for an all-night stand.’

  ‘The Baxter doesn’t cater for that kind of trade,’ Brad objected. ‘Not knowingly, at any rate.’

  ‘She’d been there with a feller, posing as his wife,’ Alice explained, having raised the same point with the masseuse. ‘The hooker thought Vellan—that’s his name—was only just coming in. It didn’t surprise her, he figures himself to be the answer to every maiden’s prayer.’

  ‘He can’t be,’ drawled Brad. ‘He’s not a Counter.’

  ‘Yah!’ Alice ejaculated rudely, then became serious. ‘He could have washed Tap Morgan out and been back in town by that time.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Brad. ‘Maybe he came to town to hit Hagmeyer and took the Morgan contract to cover his expenses when he found Hagmeyer hadn’t arrived.’

  ‘It’d be a smart play, too. We’d waste time looking for connections between them,’ Alice replied. ‘Let’s go pick him up.’

  ‘Can we do it without it being traced back to Anna?’ Brad wanted to know, aware of the consequences for the masseuse if it became suspected—or confirmed—that she was a stool-pigeon.

  ‘Sure. The hooker was talking to two of her friends and didn’t know Anna was around. And the hooker’s safe. Vellan didn’t see her. She remembered how he makes his bread and kept out of his way.’

  ‘If he washed Hagmeyer, that’ll be his contract and he’s likely pulled out by now,’ Brad warned as he started the car moving.

  It’s possible,’ Alice admitted. ‘We’ll check it, anyways. I’ll call Cen Con and have R. and I. run a make on him.’

  ‘One thing bugs me,’ Brad said, driving as fast as he could manage in a private vehicle. ‘Why would Tap Morgan or Hagmeyer open up to him that early in the morning?’

  ‘There could be plenty of reasons,’ Alice answered. ‘If he’s our man, we’ll ask him about it.’

  The Baxter Hotel was a respectable establishment catering for clientele in the higher middle-income bracket. Visits from peace officers were something of a novelty there. At the sight of the deputies’ id. wallets, the desk clerk scuttled away to return accompanied by the manager. He proved to be a tall, slim, well-dressed man with an air of concern on his face.

  ‘We’d like to check the register, please,’ Alice requested.

  ‘Of course,’ the manager replied. ‘Have you any particular guest in mind?’

  ‘Yes,’ Alice told him. ‘But we don’t know what name he’s using. He may have given New York as his home address.’

  ‘There’s only one who has,’ announced the clerk, a slim and reasonably good-looking young woman. ‘Mr. Vicente, in Room 27.’

  ‘Is he still there?’ Brad asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How long has he been here?’ Alice said, instinctively fingering the top of her bag and noticing that Brad pressed his left arm against where the jacket covered the big automatic.

  ‘Six days,’ the clerk supplied.

  The deputies exchanged glances. That would have brought ‘Vicente’ in from New York on the day after Hagmeyer was supposed to have arrived. Yet it could be no more than coincidence.

  ‘What kind of guest is he?’ Alice asked. ‘Has he been here before?’

  ‘This is his first time,’ the manager answered in a tone which implied it would also be the last. ‘He’s quiet enough—’

  ‘When he’s in,’ the clerk interjected. ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Paul, but they’re deputies—’

  ‘Of course. We must give them every co-operation. Go ahead, Miss Mann.’

  ‘The first four nights he was here, he didn’t come in until late,’ the clerk went on. ‘Midnight at least. And for the last two nights, he hasn’t come in at all. Not until early in the morning and his bed’s not been slept in—so the maid says.’

  ‘Is he in some kind of trouble?�
� the manager asked. ‘I’ve the hotel’s reputation to consider.’

  ‘We just want to ask him some questions,’ Alice assured him. ‘Quietly if it can be managed that way.’

  ‘Of course. I’d prefer it to be handled discreetly,’ Mr. Paul breathed. ‘Is there any way I can help?’

  ‘There just might be at that,’ Alice replied.

  Galling the bad guy out for a showdown on the street might have been fine in Mark Counter’s day, but a modern peace officer did not work that way. Alice and Brad knew the dangers and took steps to avoid them. If ‘Vicente’ should be their man, he had already killed at least twice and would probably still be armed. So they wanted to take him without gun-play if possible.

  With that in mind, Alice wore a hotel-maid’s uniform and carried two folded sheets across her arms as she knocked at the door of Room 27. Along the passage, Brad stood as if waiting for the elevator and without looking in her direction.

  ‘Can I come in and turn down the bed?’ Alice asked as the door opened.

  ‘Feel free,’ the occupant of the room offered, standing aside for her to enter. Tm just a tool in the hands of a beautiful dame.’

  Going in, Alice studied the man. Unless she missed her guess, he added to his height with the aid of built-in heels. Swarthily handsome, with black, curly hair, he had a reasonable physique which would be enhanced by the padding of the jacket hanging over the back of a chair. He wore a white shirt, club tie of some kind and trousers to go with the jacket. There was no sign of a gun on him. With its smallest, four-inch, barrel giving the Luger a length of eight-and-three-quarter inches and its general shape, she doubted if he was carrying it on him at that moment. He might, however, have a snub-nosed revolver in a trousers-pocket holster of the Gaylord 8-Ball pattern.

  Conscious of the man’s eyes on her, Alice pushed the door until it held but the lock did not close. Then she crossed to the bed and he followed. The maid’s uniform fitted smugly and she had been unable to retain her outer garments beneath its thin material. It was also short enough to hold his attention as she bent over the bed and placed the sheets on the covers.

  ‘I haven’t seen you around here, honey-pie,’ the man said, laying his hands lightly on Alice’s buttocks.

  Hearing the door open, he sprang clear of the girl and turned. Instantly Alice’s right hand passed between the two sheets and emerged holding her Commander. The precaution proved unnecessary. Slowly the man raised his hands from his sides, staring at the big Colt in Brad’s fist. Stepping into the room, the big blond kicked the door closed behind him.

  ‘What’s the—?’ the man gasped, sounding very worried.

  ‘Law here, Vellan,’ Brad answered. ‘Keep the hands lifting.’

  ‘Do it!’ Alice ordered. ‘I’m a badge too.’

  Much of the man’s concern left him at the words. In fact, he seemed relieved to hear that his armed visitors were peace officers.

  ‘What is this?’ he asked. ‘The name’s Vicente, not—’

  ‘Don’t snow us, Vellan,’ Brad warned. ‘We know who you are. Lean on the end of the bed.’

  Giving a shrug, the man obeyed. Holstering his automatic, Brad moved forward. With Alice stood to one side and still covering their suspect, the big blond gave him a thorough search. When satisfied that he had no weapons on his person, Brad ordered him to go and sit on a chair by the wall.

  ‘Aren’t you supposed to have a warrant before you start searching?’ the man asked as he obeyed.

  ‘Not when we’re arresting you for committing a felony,’ Alice replied.

  ‘How’s that?’ demanded the man.

  ‘Article 1162, Texas Penal Code,’ Alice explained. ‘Assault with intent to rape. My partner caught you trying to do it to me when he came in just now.’

  ‘You can’t make that stick!’ Vicente, or Vellan, objected. ‘Won’t we though?’ Alice purred. ‘There’re only three of us here to say what happened. Brad’ll agree with me—and you won’t be in any shape to talk.’

  ‘Folks in Texas don’t cotton to a feller mishandling a girl, hombre? Brad continued. ‘So there’ll not be too many questions asked about how I bring you in.’

  ‘I’ll have a few bruises to show, time anybody comes to look,’ Alice went on and, recalling his actions on her arrival, finished, ‘I’ll bet some of the hotel’s maids’ll be willing to say you’ve pawed them.’

  Which would, the man concluded to himself, be quite likely. He studied the two deputies, trying to decide if they would carry out the threat. Sure one heard how Rockabye County had straight law that played by the book, but his criminal’s mentality could not believe it. Being a consistent television viewer, he had become conditioned to believe that every peace officer in the South, unless a Negro, was an incompetent, dishonest sadist. So he did not doubt that the deputies would use any means to gain his obedience.

  ‘So search,’ he offered. ‘There’ll be no beef from me. What’s this about anyhow?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’ Alice asked, watching him while Brad accepted the offer.

  ‘No—Oh, yeah. Those two guys who were washed out.’

  ‘How did you know about them?’

  ‘Cool it, sister! I read the papers and listen to the newscasts.’

  ‘I’m not your sister, thank the Lord!’ Alice snapped. ‘Why would we tie you in with them, Mr. Vicente?’

  ‘All right, already!’ the man growled. ‘Your partner got it right when he said “Vellan”. Are you fuzz?’

  ‘Deputy sheriff’s,’ Alice corrected. ‘Do you want to see the tin?’

  ‘Naw. You’ve got honest faces. What do you want to know?’

  ‘Where you spent last night and the night before.’

  Once again relief flickered across Vellan’s features. ‘With a chick I met.’

  ‘Does she have a name?’ Alice asked.

  ‘Look, she’s a nice kid—and married!’ Vellan protested. ‘I don’t want to get her in bad with her husband.’

  ‘That’s real noble of him, Alice,’ Brad remarked, continuing with his very thorough search of the man’s property. ‘I admire him for it.’

  ‘So do I,’ Alice drawled. ‘Only doing it leaves him in bad with us.’

  ‘Why should it?’ Vellan asked sullenly.

  ‘Look, hombre,’ Brad said, going to the bed and setting about stripping it. ‘The sheriff’s going to get rode hard over two killings in two days happening in the county. So he’s going to ride us harder. We don’t like that and want to wrap this case up fast. And you, well you’ll do us fine for it.’

  ‘You’re an enforcer for the Syndicate, come from New York,’ Alice went on. ‘There’s a tie-in with Hagmeyer. Maybe somebody’ll come out and say they saw you around one of the killings. One way or another, we could nail your hide to the wall innocent or guilty.’

  ‘Her name’s Louise Quitty.’

  ‘Address?’

  ‘I don’t know, sis—lady. We met up in a bar just off The Street, the Diamondback. The bartender knows her and put me on to her. So we had a few drinks and shacked up in the La Paloma Hotel on Emsdern.’

  ‘We know it.’

  ‘That’s how it was,’ Vellan insisted.

  ‘Why’re you here, in Gusher City?’ Alice asked. ‘And don’t snow us with the vacation bit.’

  ‘So help me, it’s the truth!’ Vellan insisted.

  ‘There’s no piece in the room, Alice,’ Brad said.

  ‘Why would I need one on vacation?’ Vellan asked.

  ‘Get your coat and pack your belongings,’ Alice ordered. ‘You’re coming with us.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Not Disneyland, that’s for sure!’ Brad growled. ‘Move it. You’ve just volunteered to help us with our inquiries, as they say in England.’

  ‘Do I get to call a lawyer?’ Vellan growled.

  ‘If we book you,’ Alice answered.

  ‘I’d like to meet you in my town some time,’ the man muttered as he started to obey. Then he c
ame to a halt, staring at Brad with frightened eyes.

  Working in smooth conjunction, the big blond’s left hand rose to draw open the side of his jacket and the right flashed across to swivel the automatic from its holster. Just point-six of a second after the first movement, Vellan stared into the barrel of the pistol. Brad’s thumb rested on the safety catch, his forefinger ready to slip into the trigger guard.

  ‘I don’t like hired guns, Vellan!’ Brad warned coldly. ‘If we don’t nail you for those two wash-jobs, make tracks out of Texas pronto. The next time I see you, I’ll burn you down even if it means putting an alibi-gun in your hand when I’ve done it.’

  Staring at the big Colt, Vellan gulped. He thought himself to be good with a gun, but knew that he could not approach the deputy’s speed. Such dexterity on a peace officer’s part would be accompanied by an equal ability in sending the lead accurately. Suddenly Vellan remembered Sleath and Jordan, members of his own organization who had come to Rockabye County and died before Deputy Sheriff Bradford Counter’s gun. The red-haired dame had called that big blond ‘Brad’. By the lousiest of luck, Vellan had fallen into Counter’s hands. Nor did he need to have the reference to alibi-guns explained. They were weapons placed by unscrupulous officers on unarmed men after a shooting incident, ‘justifying’ the officer’s later insistence that he had shot in ‘self defense’.

  Taking everything into consideration, Vellan decided against standing on his Constitutional rights. Satisfied that he could clear himself of the charges, he packed his bags and accompanied the deputies to the Sheriff’s Office. Which was what Brad and Alice wanted and the reason for their threats; although the big blond had been serious about his hatred for professional killers.

  Eight

  During the ride to the D.P.S. Building Vellan talked about the killings. Clearly he felt the need to ingratiate himself with the deputies, for he was remarkably frank. He said that, to the best of his knowledge, the Syndicate had not received contracts to wash out Morgan and Hagmeyer, From the way he spoke, he appeared certain that he would have learned if his organization was involved. According to him, there had been no mention making the rounds in Gusher City about a combine war brewing. Again he felt that some of his associates would have commented on the matter when they met. Alice and Brad figured that Vellan was either innocent of the killings or had such a well-organized alibi that he was satisfied they could not break it.