all. There was no doubt that she was scared of something. But we found nothing to tie her in with any of the gangs.’
‘I see,’ I said. I didn’t, for at the moment, there were too many loose ends lying around waiting to be tied up. Too many unknowns, one body too many, and six slugs which couldn’t be explained.
‘We want you in on this case because of—well, your background. You know the Underworld, Johnny. You know how it operates, you know its methods, probably better than any other man outside of the Organisation. I’m convinced myself this isn’t just another slaying like the thousands of others we come across. There’s something here that doesn’t fit, and by God, I intend to find out what it is.’
‘O.K. Harry,’ I said. ‘Count me in. But if it doesn’t turn out that way, don’t blame me.’
‘I won’t, Johnny.’ He was looking straight at me, trying to see my face in the light of the street lamp. ‘How do you figure on beginning?’
‘At the moment, I’ve no idea,’ I said honestly. The whole affair was still a little crazy, mixed-up. A woman died with six slugs in her body in a backstreet of downtown Los Angeles—so what? It had happened before, a countless number of times, and it would happen again. But if a man like Harry Grenville believed that there was something more than an ordinary slaying here, then who was I to doubt him? Far too often, in the past, he had been right with these hunches of his. It wouldn’t hurt, anyway, if I strung along with him, at least for the time being.
Besides, I knew exactly how the Underworld worked, how it was nurtured. It was a vast, spider-like thing squatting in the heart of the city, its tentacles spread throughout the whole of the surrounding territory. There wasn’t a single spot where a man would be able to hide if the Organisation wanted him dead. This tremendous octopus was fed and swollen by the fears and intimidation of little men. The fast cars without lights that struck without warning, leaving a huddled body in the middle of the street. The pathetic corpses which were brought to the surface from the river. The broken, spiritless creatures who existed in the twilight world of the backstreets, kidneys ruptured by carefully wielded hoses which left no mark outside. Or the bullets fired from close range on the sidewalk with no witnesses but the slayer and the victim.
This could be the same. There was nothing to prove it either way at the moment, apart from Grenville’s hunch. I threw another look down at the body on the sidewalk. A pretty figure and a face which had once been pleasant and full of life; but not now. Now, something had been wiped out of it, and the face had that look of surprise and shock and fear which told only too plainly that in the second before she had died, she had known who her killer was, had known that death was there, inevitable and frightening.
I walked back into the ring of cops. I could feel their eyes on me, wondering—who the hell is this guy Johnny Merak, ex-crook turned private detective? But if there was any suspicion in their eyes, it didn’t register. I stood looking at Dawn for a long moment and I knew that the same thought was in her mind as was in mine. It had all started again. The lonely fight against the Underworld, the big boys, the ruthless men who posed on the outside as decent, law-abiding citizens of the community. But on the inside, away from the publicity, they dabbled in the dirtiest work there was. Blackmail and murder came high on their list. Graft and corruption a close second. Only they didn’t do this dirty work themselves. They had the hired gunmen, the grafters, the fixer to do it for them. They merely gave the orders, and sat back in the middle of the web and watched the drama played out to their liking.
If the order went out that someone had to die; then they died. Very few were as lucky as I had been, to get out of that web of vice and treachery and death, and still remain alive and in one piece. Most who tried it ended up as drunks and physical wrecks after the hoodlums had worked them over for laughs.
No—it was easy to see how Caroline Lomer could have died. But proving it would be a difficult matter—and discovering who did it, whose hand was at the back of the killing, more difficult still.
‘You’re going to try to find out who did it, Johnny.’ Dawn’s voice was soft and husky. It wasn’t a question.
I nodded. ‘I said I was through with all of the dirty stuff a long time ago. I promised myself then, that if there was ever anything I could do to get back at them, to break them, I’d do it. Maybe this is another chance.’
‘You might not be so lucky this time, Johnny.’ Still no question of trying to get me to back out.
‘I know, Dawn. But now that I feel clean again, I want to keep it that way. I wouldn’t if I backed out of this deal.’
‘All right, Johnny. I’d rather see you die trying than quit. But there’s nowhere for you to start.’
I climbed back into the Mercury while she slipped in behind the wheel. The light still shone on the crumpled body lying near the gutter and I couldn’t get the look in that kid’s eyes out of my mind. The little thoughts were having another scamper around my brain as I sat there, while Dawn slipped in behind the wheel. The more I thought about it, the more odd this whole set-up seemed. There wasn’t such a thing as a motive-less murder; and if the Underworld did have any part in it, even if they had only sanctioned the murder, as seemed possible, the motive was there somewhere if it could only be found. Maybe it was buried under a mountain of useless facts. Maybe it was there, staring me in the face, in the middle of that cluster of cops, if I could only see it.
Harry Grenville came over and peered into the window. His granite-like face was in shadow.
‘What do you think, Johnny?’
‘It could be what you think,’ I said after a pause. ‘Whoever killed her picked a quiet spot for the murder. That means they did know her movements, and I’m pretty sure she knew who shot her. If this was a mob killing, it oughtn’t to be too difficult to find out.’
‘That going to be your first move, Johnny?’ Quiet concern in the other’s voice, but I guessed it was more than that. He wanted to know my movements just to keep a check on me, to know where I’d be if he wanted to get in touch with me fast.
‘There’s nothing I can do tonight,’ I said. ‘Whoever did it will be miles away by now. You could question the folk in the neighbourhood, but I reckon you’ll get very little out of them. Once they get it into their heads that this is a mob slaying, they’ll close up like clams. You won’t be able to prise any information out of them with a whip.’
‘I guess you’re right. I’ll have the body taken to the mortuary once the rest of the boys are finished. Where can I get in touch with you tomorrow if anything turns up?’
‘Difficult to say. If I have to go after information, I could be anywhere. Maybe I’d better call you. Noon.’
‘O.K., Johnny. But watch yourself. I’ve a hunch you’re right in this hunch.’
‘Then play it smart. And if you need any help, I’ll do everything I can. You know that.’
‘Sure. I’ll be seeing you.’
He stepped back onto the sidewalk as the car moved away from the kerb. Dawn drove silently through the flowing traffic. The fog was lowering and I couldn’t see the moon. It was difficult to see the lights along the fronts of the bars and the all-night cinemas.
Caroline Lomer. I tried to make guesses at what could have happened. Haunted by fear, scared stiff of something she couldn’t fight, something she couldn’t live with any longer, she had gone to the police, asking for protection, demanding security, searching
