One Bright Summer Morning
- Автор: Чейз Джеймс Хэдли
- Год: 1963
- Язык: английский
- Год: Robert Hale
- Жанр: Криминальные детективы
Электронная книга - «One Bright Summer Morning». Краткое содержание книги:
With lucid detail, Van Wylie stated the facts while Dennison listened. Finally, Van Wylie came to Vic Dermott’s part in the kidnapping.
“It’s obvious this fella has nothing to do with the kidnappers,” Van Wylie said. “He’s in as bad a fix as I am. Andrews here thinks he has seen him before.”
Dennison looked sharply at Andrews.
“I’m trying to remember just where, but I can’t place him,” Andrews said in his slow drawl. “I’m sure he’s something to do with the theatre... maybe an actor. I’m quite sure he isn’t a movie actor... he’s to do with the theatre.”
“Well, that’s something to go on,” Dennison said and reached for the telephone. He got through to the Field Office at Paradise City and spoke to Abe Mason. “I’m sending along a Mr. Merrill Andrews. He’ll be with you within an hour. He’ll explain. I want you to call up Simons and Ley, the theatrical agents. Get them to let you have photographs of every actor around thirty-eight years of age, around six foot tall, dark, they have on their books. This is a rush job.” He hung up and looked at Andrews. “Mr. Andrews? There’s a chance you’ll spot the guy from the photographs my man will show you.”
Andrews looked inquiringly at Van Wylie. At his nod, he hurried from the office.
“The kidnappers are dangerous,” Van Wylie said. “I don’t want Zelda to run any risk. You understand?”
“Of course,” Dennison said quietly. “We know how to handle this. Let’s have some more facts about her routine. You say she always went to the hairdresser’s at the same time and on the same day?”
An hour later, Van Wylie got to his feet.
“That’s about it,” he said. “I’ll leave it to you, but you don’t make any moves without first consulting me.”
“That’s understood,” Dennison returned, getting to his feet and shaking hands.
Van Wylie stared at him for a long moment.
“I’d rather lose four million dollars than Zelda,” he said, “She’s all I’ve got to live for now.”
When he had gone, Dennison reached for the telephone.
At the Field Office, Merrill Andrews tossed the last photograph on Abe Mason’s desk with an exclamation of disgust.
“No... he’s not among this lot,” he said.
“Maybe he’s a movie actor,” Mason said. “I can get...”
“He’s not a movie actor,” Andrews broke in. “I’m as sure as I sit here, he’s to do with the theatre and well known at that.”
“Okay,” Mason said, getting to his feet. “We’ll go over to the Herald’s office and look through their photographs. They have a library of famous people. Maybe we’ll spot him there.”
As they were leaving the building, they ran into Dennison who had driven fast from the airport.
“Any luck?” Dennison asked, pausing.
Mason explained where they were going, and Dennison nodded. He went up to his office and put through a call to the San Bernadino police. He asked if any patrol officer on the highway leading from the Van Wylie estate to San Bernadino had seen Miss Van Wylie around nine o’clock the previous day. The sergeant in charge said he would call back.
Dennison then asked the sergeant to alert every patrol officer to look out for a Jaguar E-type car and gave Zelda’s licence number.
That done, he got Harper to check on the licence number of the Cadillac that Andrews had given him.
“No such number,” Harper said as he hung up the telephone receiver.
Dennison grunted. He pulled a tape recorder towards him and wound on the reel of tape that Van Wylie had given him.
The two men listened to the voice. After playing the tape back three times, Dennison turned the machine off. He reached for a cigar, lit it and relaxed back in his chair.
“Know anyone who binds his fist with a bicycle chain as a weapon?” he asked suddenly.
“About a couple of hundred by name,” Harper said cynically. “There are probably twenty or thirty thousand who I don’t know. It’s the latest fad with these beats.”
“Yeah, but this isn’t small-time, Tom. Four million dollars! That was an old man’s voice.” Dennison blew smoke up to the ceiling. “It takes my mind back to the old days when gangsters really asked big money for a ransom. You know, it’s the kind of job that Jim Kramer might pull if he was crazy enough to come out of retirement. Knowing Kramer the way I do, I can’t believe he would try a kidnapping. Send a Telex to every bank in the state, telling them to report when someone cashes a bearer cheque, signed by John Van Wylie for four hundred thousand dollars. We may be a little late, but we might just possibly catch up with this guy, cashing the cheques.”
Harper nodded and left the room.
Dennison smoked on, his eyes blank, his face expressionless. Kramer! Could just possibly be. He had vanished. Moe Zegetti who always worked with him had also vanished. Dennison’s face suddenly twisted in to a grim smile. If it was Kramer and they caught him, he would have the satisfaction of seeing Kramer go to the gas chamber. No Federal Officer could wish for a nicer retiring present than that!
Chapter Eight
It was Junior’s nagging cry that made Carrie get unsteadily to her feet. Her face felt hot and puffy where Riff had hit her. Silence brooded over the house, except for Junior’s crying. She picked the baby up and held him close to her. Satisfied that he was getting the attention he needed, Junior stopped crying and began to make chortling noises.
Carrie carried him out into the lobby and stood, listening. She heard nothing. She went to the front door, opened it and looked out into the patio.
Chita was looking in her direction as she sat in the sunlight.
Huskily, Carrie said, “You’d better come... please.”
Chita looked indifferently at her.
“Keep out of it,” she said. “You’ll only get hurt.”
“But you can’t let him...”
“Go back to your room.”
Carrie went back to her room. She put Junior into his cot, and with an unsteady hand she gave him one of his favourite toys, then with a rapidly beating heart, she walked to Zelda’s room. This was probably the bravest thing she had ever done in her life. The thought of having to face Riff again terrified her, but she couldn’t leave Zelda defenceless to cope with him alone. She turned the door handle, but the door was locked.
She hesitated, then she began hammering on the door with her clenched fists.
“Open this door!” she shouted, her voice unsteady with terror.
The silence from the room horrified her. Maybe this awful savage had killed the girl!
She hammered on the door again.
“Zelda! Are you all right! Open this door!”
There was a long pause of silence, then Carrie heard whispering. Then she heard Zelda giggle. The sound came as such a shock to her that she felt the blood leave her face.
“It’s all right,” Zelda called. “Do go away!”
As Carrie remained motionless, aware of her thudding heartbeats, she heard a sound behind her and she looked around.
Chita had come silently into the house. She stood glaring at Carrie. Her expression was something that Carrie hoped never to see on a woman’s face again. There was pain, anger, frustration and bitter jealousy that had turned Chita’s face into a mask of despair.
“What are you worrying about, you poor fool?” Chita demanded, her voice shaking with pent-up fury. “My brother has a way with women! Get away! Go back to your room!”
Sickened, Carrie walked past her and entered her room. She closed the door, her hand against her aching face. With a shiver of disgust, she locked herself in.
Patrol Officer Murphy walked into Jay Dennison’s office. He saluted as he said, “Murphy, ‘D’ Division. Sergeant O’Harridon told me to report, sir.”