Lucky Stiff by Craig Rice (best large ebook reader txt) 📕
This was their wedding anniversary. He couldn't even remember which one. It didn't really matter. All that mattered was the waking up every morning and seeing her long, silky hair spread out on the pillow, and her face, childlike in sleep, nestled in her arm. Coffee in the sunroom in the morning, Helene in her violet chiffon negligee, or her fluffy white robe, or her bandanna sunsuit, or, on special occasions, the blue satin house pajamas she'd been wearing the first time they met.
"Helene," he said, "every time I look at you I feel as if someone had just given my heart a hot-foot."
Her eyes warmed. "Darling," she whispered, "I didn't know you were a poet!" This time her hand reached out for his, and it wasn't icy cold.
Jake Justus, ex-reporter, ex-press agent, and, as he occasionally reminded himself, definitely ex-amateur detective, sighed again. Happily, this time. That unpleasant knot of anxiety in h
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“Yes, yes, yes, I know,” Malone said quickly. “Helene, and the Casino, and all the rest of it. You don’t need to go on. You don’t even need to tell me that if you hadn’t believed, right up to the last, that Anna Marie St. Clair would be saved, you’d have told your story, warnings or no warnings.”
Jake looked at the floor and said, “Well you see—well, yes, that’s it. But then at the last—when it began to look as though the girl was really headed for the chair—I couldn’t stand it, Casino or no Casino. Something had to be done.”
“You could have gone to the police,” Malone said quietly.
“Would you mind letting me tell this in my own way?” Jake said. “I went to The Happy Days saloon and sat there in a booth nursing a beer and hoping someone would come and contact me. Eventually, Ambersley showed up. Maybe he just dropped by, or maybe someone there sent for him to come and talk to me. Anyway, he told me two things. One, that Anna Marie St. Clair was scheduled for a reprieve and a new trial. Two, that if I didn’t keep my mouth shut in the meantime I was just as likely as not to be a widower.”
“They threatened Helene,” Malone said, chewing on his cigar, “and you fell for it.”
“They did, and I did,” Jake said grimly. “Those guys don’t play.”
Malone said, “Neither does Helene. God help them if they ever mix up with her.”
“Yesterday,” Jake said in a low voice, “I went to the D.A.‘s office. They laughed at me. They called me a liar. And when they asked me how I happened to be on the scene and why I hadn’t come forward before, I couldn’t tell them. Because”—he paused, gulped—“if anything ever happened to Helene—”
Malone said, “Never mind. And you’re still paying off.”
“At this rate,” Jake said, “I’ll be broke in six months. But that isn’t the reason. After last night—” he paused, gulped. “That girl was murdered. I’d like to lay hands on her murderer. I’d like to know who’s running this racket. I thought it was Big Joe Childers, but he’s dead, and I’m still paying.”
“Are you suggesting,” Malone said, “that you’d like to engage my services?”
“Look, Malone—” Jake began.
“I hate to bust up a good racket,” Malone said, “because for all I know, I may be getting income from it, through one source or another. But since it’s you,” he added coyly, “my services can be had, for a small sum, of course.”
“Helene mustn’t know about it,” Jake said. “She’s got to be kept out of it.”
“Naturally,” Malone said. “Or else she’ll do the job herself and I’ll lose a fee. Now tell me about this guy Ambersley—”
The door opened. Maggie said helplessly, “Mr. Malone—” A small woman in black, with a green-feathered hat, marched imperiously into the room. She nodded to Maggie, said, “Thank you, my dear.” Then, to Malone, “I’m sure you don’t mind my coming right in. It’s really quite urgent that I see you, immediately.” She gave Jake a glance indicating that he was as welcome as a stepchild with scarlet fever.
Malone rose. “Glad to see you, Mrs. Childers. You know Mr. Justus?”
She raked him over with a glance and said, “Delighted.”
“Delighted to meet you,” Jake said. “Have a drink?” He absent-mindedly held out his own glass.
“Thank you,” she said. “I don’t drink.”
“Suit yourself,” Jake said. “Do you smoke, swear, spit, or what do you do?”
Eva Childers looked away and said, “Mr. Malone—” The little lawyer cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, Jake—”
There was a slight commotion behind the door, and it opened again. Maggie said in a despairing voice, “Mr. Malone, I simply couldn’t—”
Malone said wearily, “You’re fired,” as Helene walked leisurely into the room, peeling off her gloves.
She stood there, a tall, lovely, slender figure. For a moment Malone forgot all his problems and gazed at her. He observed that there was a faint pink in her cheeks and that she was slightly out of breath. He braced himself for trouble.
Helene said, “Jake darling, I’m so sorry I was late. I waited in that bar for an hour. It’s my fault, my watch had stopped.”
Jake opened his mouth to say, “Huh,” caught a signaling wink from her, and shut it again.
“Mrs. Childers!” Helene beamed. “How nice to see you again! We met at Mrs. McClane’s garden party, remember?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, of course,” Eva Childers said. She certainly did remember that garden party. It had taken a lot of doing to wangle an invitation to it. Her dark eyes narrowed. Maybe she’d been mistaken in her suspicions of Helene. After all, she’d been Helene Brand, heiress, only daughter of one of the families. Eva Childers concentrated on looking friendly, charming, and, of course, ladylike.
“I’ve wanted so many times to call you,” Helene gushed on, “but I’d lost your phone number. Wasn’t that silly of me? I’d simply adore to have lunch with you someday soon.”
“That would be—”
Before Eva Childers could think of a synonym for “wonderful” Helene had gone on. “How about tomorrow noon? One o’clock? Pierre’s? Oh, grand. I’m so glad I ran into you here. Is Mr. Malone your lawyer, too?”
“Well—” Eva Childers began.
“Aren’t you lucky! He’s simply marvelous! Oh Mrs. Childers, I’m insane about your hat! You must have had it made specially for you. It’s the most becoming thing—”
Malone said, “If you please—”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Helene gasped. “I’m keeping you from talking business. Jake, angel, did Mr. Malone settle that point about Uncle Arthur’s will?”
Jake swallowed hard and said grimly, “Yes, dear. We can’t break it. The Associated Dog and Cat Clinic get every penny of it.”
“What a shame,” Eva Childers said sympathetically.
“Mrs. Justus,” Malone said. He was fighting off a conviction that in thirty more seconds he was going to lose his mind.
“I do wish we could all dash out for a drink or something,” Helene said, oblivious of interruptions, “but Jake and I are simply hours and hours late—remember, darling, Lady Leiber’s tea—”
“Oh, yes,” Jake said. He drank the last drop of gin in his glass. “Mustn’t disappoint Lady Leiber.”
“By all means, don’t,” Malone said. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t have been more helpful about Uncle Arthur’s will.”
“Don’t forget, Mrs. Childers,” Helene cooed, at the door. “One o’clock, at Pierre’s.”
Jake resisted an impulse to bang the door shut. He grabbed Helene’s arm. “What’s the idea, or do you know?”
“Sssh! I want to hear what she has to say to Malone, and so do you.” Helene punched the elevator button. “That’s just so she’ll think we did go downstairs. In case she’s listening, and she will be, she’ll hear the elevator come up and go down.” She led the way down the hall. “Malone can’t afford a dictograph, so the office next to him is vacant, in case he wants Maggie to take down a conversation unobserved.” She opened the door.
“How did you know it was unlocked, Jake whispered, “and how did you know you could hear—”
“Because,” she whispered back, “I caught the tag end of your conversation with Malone. Just what is it I’ve got to be kept out of? Whatever it is, I’m in it already. And,” she added sternly, “I think you were very, very rude to poor Mrs. Childers.”
Eva Childers sat straight up in the big chair. Her tiny feet just touched the floor. She accepted a cigarette from Malone like a little girl accepting a lollipop from a stranger, and held it delicately between her fingers as though, Malone thought, she was about to pick up a hammer and drive it into the wall. She glanced toward the door Helene had closed behind her and said, “Lovely girl, isn’t she?”
“Very lovely,” Malone said, striking a match for her. His sharp ears had caught the faint sound of a door closing, and he had a good idea who was in the “listening office.” He cleared his throat and said loudly, “Lovely, but quite crazy, unfortunately. Too bad. Beautiful girl, if you like that washed-out blond type. Should have been committed years ago. But you know how it is. Influence. Sad, sad affair. Just between us, and I know you won’t tell a soul, she’s a pyromaniac.”
“What a shame!” Mrs. Childers clucked sympathetically. “She has such pretty white teeth, too. I suppose she’ll have to have them all pulled. And her husband?”
“Oh, he’s just a petty crook,” Malone said, raising his voice a little. “Nice guy, in his way, but just a good-for-nothing drunk, gambler, and woman chaser. Runs a high-class saloon for a living. Believe me, if his wife knew one-half of what I know about him!”
That ought to hold Jake and Helene for a while, he told himself. He concentrated his attention on Mrs. Childers. If she was consulting him as client, there might be a fat fee. And he’d seen a bracelet Anna Marie would love to have.
“Now, my dear Mrs. Childers. What’s troubling you?” Even if there wasn’t a fee, he was interested in what Eva Childers had to say.
“My conscience,” Eva Childers said. “I feel as if I’d murdered that girl.”
Malone let that hang in the air for a moment. Then he looked sympathetic and said, “Come, come.”
“I told the truth,” she said simply. “I thought it was right at the time. And it was so kind of the lawyers not to ask me to testify. I just had to testify at the inquest, and, of course, he had been—what’s the word—keeping her.” She reached for a lace-edged handkerchief.
“There, there,” Malone said, in what his friends, enemies, and grateful clients described as his best cell-side manner.
“It was a great mistake,” she murmured, “my marrying Mr. Childers. I was too young to realize what he was like. He had what seemed a great deal of money, and his attention flattered me, and—oh, you know how it is—”
“Indeed I do,” Malone said. “Your poor, poor little girl.”
Eva Childers managed a faint, tremulous smile. “He was always very kind to me. He gave me everything I wanted. He left me a—a—well, a fortune, Mr. Malone. But—oh, the ways he made his money—and—these other women—”
She bowed her head in the lacy handkerchief.
Malone sighed, rose, walked around his desk and patted her thin, delicate shoulder. “You’ve had a bad, bad time, my dear, brave little woman. But you must put it all out of your mind. You must remember, you have a long, happy life ahead of you.”
“Oh, Mr. Malone,” she breathed, “you’re so understanding!”
He patted her on the other shoulder and said, “Now, what can I do to help you?”
“That girl,” she said. “I do feel so guilty. I want to do something. Not that I could bring her back. But—she must have a family somewhere. A father and mother, maybe, brothers and sisters. I’d like to find them. I’d like to provide for them. Not that I even dream mere money will make it up to them. But—that’s the only thing I can do. Oh, Mr. Malone—
She clasped her hands and gazed up at him with tragic eyes. “If you’d only just drop everything you’re doing and devote yourself to finding her family! I’d pay you anything— anything!”
The little lawyer pulled a fresh cigar from his pocket, lit it, and began pacing up and down the room. He wondered how large a
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