May 15, 2025 • 21 mins
In the grimy underbelly of the city, a girls lifeless body is discovered in a desolate lot, horrifyingly beaten and with an eye brutally gouged out. Across town, another young woman is found dead under similar circumstances. Lieutenant Mendoza is convinced theres a chilling connection. As he delves into this twisting mystery in this first riveting installment of the Lt. Mendoza series, he navigates a colorful landscape of intriguing characters, veiled secrets, and stark realism that resonates with the modern reader. (Summary by Ben Tucker)
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter ten of case pending by Del Shannon. This livervox
recording is in the public domain. Chapter ten. I have
the feeling, said Mendoza discreetly in Spanish, for the waiter
who had seated them was still with an ear shot.
They'd better apologies for the mill were about to have.
(00:21):
But why everything looks horribly impressive, including the prices. In fact,
after that automatic glance at the right hand column, said Alison,
putting down the immense menu card. I have the feeling.
I've been in the wrong business all my life. I
never can quite remember how it goes about fooling some
of the people, et cetera. Mendoza glanced thoughtfully around the
(00:42):
main dining room of the Maison Deuchamp, which was mostly
magenta underlighted and decorated with would be funny murals of
lascivious felines. It's curious how many people are ready to
believe that the highest prices guarantee the best value. The
waiter came back and insinuated under their nose liquorless only
slightly smaller than the menus. What would you like to drink? Sherry,
(01:07):
said Alison faintly, her eyes wandering down the right column
and a straight rye, he said to the waiter, who
looked shaken and took back the cards with the disappointed murmur.
Not in character. I'd expected to find you something of
a gourmet. My god, I'd thought i'd make a better impression.
Less one thinks about one's stomach, the less trouble it's
(01:28):
apt to costs. I know just enough about wine to
call your attention to those anonymous offerings. You just looked
at port musquatel, to O K and so on at
three dollars the half bottle, and there'll be the domestic
product available at the near supermarket for what about one
eighty nine the gallon. They're not losing money on the
imported ones either, about a one hundred percent mark up.
(01:51):
He looked around again, casually, focused on something past her shoulder,
and began to smile slowly to himself. Now, isn't that interesting?
I couldn't agree more, I said, I've always found the
subject fascinating. You are pleased about something, and it can't
be the prices. I just noticed an old friend, and
what's more, he noticed me he isn't nearly so pleased
(02:13):
about it. The waiter, doing his best with pseudo gallic
murmurs and deft gestures with paper mats to invest these
plebeian potions with glamor served them. Mendoza picked up his
rye and sniffed it, cautiously saluted pissettas. And if this
cost them more'n a dollar a fifth wholesale, they're being cheated,
which I doubt. Why did we come here, I gather
(02:33):
it's new to you too. We came because I'm interested
in this place, not as a restaurant professionally. Of course,
I also want to impress you. You have and I'm
grateful to find you. See through these spurious trappings of
the merely expensive. Next time i'll take you to a
hamburger stand. You will not. I like an excuse to
(02:54):
get really dressed up occasionally. She had, after all, compromised
with his dictation. Pearls and a very mum de quellete.
But for the rest an oyster silk sheath. I complimented
you once. Don't fish for more, so, early, said Mendoza placidly.
And what I expected to get by coming, besides roked
out of a little money, I don't know. Mister Torres
(03:15):
Domingo is an unexpected bonus. You see, the uncle of
your late pupil went out of his way to visit
this place last night, which seemed a little odd. Oh,
I should think.
Speaker 2 (03:25):
So.
Speaker 1 (03:26):
Who is the other gentleman you mentioned? Oh, I wouldn't
say gentlemen. He just barely avoided an indictment for homicide
about eighteen months ago. He was then the proprietor of
a bar on Third Avenue. Another gentleman, who later turned
out to have been a small time wholesaler of heroin,
got himself shot full of holes by a third gentleman,
who subsequently said that mister the first gentleman had offered
(03:47):
him a substantial sum of money to do the job.
We didn't doubt his word after what showed up, but
unfortunately there just wasn't enough evidence. The first gentleman retired
modestly across the Mexican border, though he is an American citizen,
and it's interesting to know he's back home. I don't
want him for anything myself, but Lieutenant Patrick Callahan will
(04:07):
be very interested to hear that he's now the head
waiter at a fashionable restaurant. I deduce that the lieutenant
is on the narcotics team or whatever you call it.
And as you and I are not the only people
in the world who speak Spanish, we will now cease
to talk shop. What are we offered? All the standard
Parisian concoctions. Women living alone subsist mostly on casseroles. Anyway,
(04:30):
no treat to you. I suggest the one concession to
Americanism a stick medium. Well, she agreed meekly, And when
the waiter had gone, may I ask just one question.
People make a lot of money in that business you mentioned, wholesaling,
you know what, Why should they go to all the
trouble of holding down regular jobs too? I always thought
(04:51):
of them as as coming out at night slinking furtively
down alleys, you know, like that, not punching time clocks.
Oh god, he said, Now you've taken my appetite away. Well,
there's a den of crafty, blood sucking robbers in Washington.
You'll have heard of them. Which ones it says, Bureau
of Internal Revenue on the door. Now, the l a
(05:13):
p D. Couldn't get one useful piece of evidence against
the gentleman, I mentioned, as we can't always against a
lot of others, and a lot of businesses, and I
do mean big businesses. On the wrong side of the law.
But we can't poke our noses into some things. Those
fellows can a hundred thousand dollar apartment house, a new Cadillac,
a mink coat for the girl friend. You are doing well,
mister Smith. How come you never told your uncle about it?
(05:35):
And if mister Smith can't explain just where it all
came from, he's got a lot more grief than a
mere city cop could ever hand him. Oh, I see,
I do indeed cover and then added Mendoza, not altogether humorously.
One uncle has stowed mister Smith away in jail for
tax evation. The indignant public points an accusing finger at
(05:56):
us and says, corrupt cups. They must have known something
about him, stupid cops. If they didn't find out, why
wasn't he arrested for his real crimes? You try to
tell them, just try that it's because we have to
operate within laws about evidence designed to protect the public.
I wonder whether I ought to call in and tell
Pat's office about this. Mister Torres Domingo, who had made
(06:18):
a precipitate exit on first catching sight of him, reappeared
round the screen at the service doors, polishing his bald
head with a handkerchief. He shot one furtive glance in
Mendoza's direction, pasted on a professional happy smile, and began
to circulate among the tables, pausing for a bow, a
word here and there with a favored patron. Oh, well,
there's no hurry. You want to run away, and for
(06:39):
all I know he's reformed and hasn't any reason to.
Any Way, the stakes could have been less tough, the
service might, with advantage, have been less ostentatious. Mendoza asked
her presently whether she had got anything useful from any
of the girls. I wondered, when you'd ask nothing at all.
I'm sorry to say she hadn't said anything to any
of them about that, but she didn't know any of
(07:02):
them well after all, No, I didn't expect much of that.
I've got a queer sort of can I call it
a lead from another angle, but I don't know that
that means much either. What do you think of the murals?
I've never asked you what kind of thing you paint?
Allison said the murals constituted a libel on the feline race,
and that she was herself unfashionably pre impressionistic. This and
(07:26):
that I'm not wedded to any one particular type of
subject now and then I actually sell something. They talked
about painting, They talked about cats. But when you're away
all day, you can't keep pets. It's not fair. Nobody
keeps a cat. They condescend to live with you as all.
And as for the rest of it, I moved it
(07:46):
smiles farther for me to drive, and the rents higher.
But it's on the ground floor, and they let me
put in one of those little swinging doors in the
back door. Why out to the yard. You've seen the ads.
Let your pet come and go freely. Yes, a finite,
but she won't use it. She knows how it works,
but she doesn't like the way it slaps her behind
and she got her tail pinched once. Fortunately, all the
(08:07):
other seven apartments are inhabited by cat people. Four of
them have keys to mine and run in and out
all day waiting on her, which of course is what
she schemes for. I believe missus Carter and missus Bryson,
he added, looking around for the waiter alternate their shopping
tours and visits to the beauty salon coffee please, and
perhaps some of our special brandies, sir, that I need,
(08:29):
said Allison, after listening to this bare faced confession, battening
on the charity of your neighbors, like that one of
the reasons I picked the apartment. The elgins keep her
supplied with catnip mice. They buy them in wholesale lots,
having three sigames of their own. Of course, there is
a man two doors down who has a spaniel. But
one must expect some undesirables in these unrestricted neighborhoods. The
(08:54):
waiter came back with the coffee, the brandy, and the
bill on a salver, contriving to slide that in front
of him Mendoza by kind of Ledgermaine, suggesting that it
appeared out of thin air, not through any offices of
this obsequacious and excellent servant. Mendoza looked at it, laid
two tins on the salver, and said now he needed
the brandy too. I have no sympathy for you, said Alison.
(09:15):
When they came out into the foyer, Mendoza hesitated, glancing
at the discreet row of phone boots in the alcove.
I wonder if I had there. It appeared, no bowing,
smiling headwaiter as they left the dining room to make
the last honors to new patrons, urge a return. Oh well,
and he put a hand automatically to his pocket for
more largesse. As one of the several liveried lackeys approached
(09:37):
with Allison's coat, so abitu ave ad uizzas sour and
Madame oop, you enjoy your dinner. You must come back soon,
Holy Mother of God, what the hell was that between them?
They dropped the coat. The lackey took one look over
Allison's shoulder, said Jesus, let me out of here, and
dived blindly for the door, staggering Mendoza aside. The second
(10:00):
volley of shots was a medley of several calibers, including
what sounded like a couple of regulation Thirty eighths from
the dark end of the corridor off the foyer plunged
a large, shapeless man waving a revolver, and close after
him the tuxedo clad rotundity of mister Torres Domingo, similarly equipped.
The check room attendant prudently dropped flat behind his counter
(10:20):
as the large man paused to fire twice more behind
him and charged into the foyer wait for me, Nattie.
Mister Torres Domingo sent one wild shot behind him and
another inadvertently into the nearest foam booth as he continued flight.
The first man swept the gun in an arc round
the foyer. Do nobody move, I'm coming through. Mendoza recovered
(10:41):
his balance, shoved Alison hard a sprawl full length on
the floor, and in one leap, covered the ten feet
to the gun as it swung back in his direction.
He got a good left handed grip on the gun
hand as they collided, his momentum lending force to the
considerable impact, and as they went down, landed one right
that connected satisfactorily. Nettie went over backward and Mendoza went
with him. The gun emptied itself into the ceiling. As
(11:02):
they hit the floor, with Mendoza's knee in the paunch
under him. Neddie uttered a strange whoof and lost all
interest in the proceedings. Mister Torres Domingo yelped, fired once
more and hit the plate glass door, turned and ran
into the embrace of an enormous red haired man and
the vanguard of the pursuit, which had just erupted down
the corridor. The red haired man adjusted him to a
convenient position and hid him once in the jaw, and
(11:24):
he flew backward six feet and collapsed on top of Mendoza,
who was just setting up One of the three men behind.
The red haired man dropped his gun and sank on
to the divan beside the checkroom, clutching his shoulder. There
was a very short silence before several women in the
crowd collecting at the dining room door went off like
air raid sirens. Mendoza heaved off, mister Torres Domingo, sat
(11:45):
up and began to swear in Spanish. The red haired
man bellowed the crowd a quiet and turned to the
man nearest him, find the following and call the wagon
in an ambulance, and flinging round to the man on
the divan, just one of the name of Jesus, Mary
and Joseph. Did you think you were doing? You all? Might? He? Bastard?
You here de better take your hands off that man
you serve a dublin whore. Mendoza shoved him away and
(12:06):
bent over Higgins, who was fumbling a handkerchief under his coat.
Easy boy, it's not bad, Lieutenant. I just before God
Louis Mendoza, does this belong to you? Just what the
holy hell are you doing in this? You're telling me
you put this blundering bostard out back there to bitch
up two months work, when the first chance I've had
to lay my hands on or bust your right in
(12:27):
the oil. Mendoza twitched the handkerchief from the red haired
man's breast pocket, wanted it up with his own, shoved
Higgins flat on the divan, and pulled aside the coat
to slap on the temporary bandage. Temper, Patrick, Temper. We're
in public, you'll be giving people the idea there's no loyalty,
no unity in the police force. And listen, you're red bustard.
(12:47):
Next time you have to knock a man out to
arrest him, for the love of God, don't aim him
at me. You've dominir fretchured my spine. There's a squad car,
for God's sake, that's clear. This crowd back, who's this?
The little round man who had popped out like a
cork from the dining room crowd was sounding off in
a falsetto.
Speaker 2 (13:02):
I am the manager, I am the owner. What do
you do here in my police shooting and yelling. I
call the police. What is this about shootings gangsters? I
will not have gangsters in my nice, quiet place. Then
you shouldn't hire one as a head waiter, said Mendoza.
And you should also change your butcher. Your stakes are tough.
Speaker 1 (13:21):
He pushed past him and went over to Allison, who
was just somewhat shakily regaining her feet. I don't usually
knock them down the first date, Mivita. Apologies, are you
all right here? Sit down? I'm all right, said Allison,
but you owe me a pair of stockings. Morgan had
read somewhere that marijuana did this to you, played tricks
(13:42):
with time, So first it seemed to slow down, almost
grind to a full stop, and then sent everything past
you at the speed of light. His watch told him
he had been standing here on this corner just an
hour and twelve minutes, no more and no less. For
a while it had felt like half eternity. And then
a while after that, time began to go too fast.
(14:02):
Where he had been tense with impatience, wound up tight
for action. God, God, make him come suddenly. Now. He
could have prayed for time to stop. Not now, he said,
to Smith frantically in his mind, you can't come now
until I've thought about this, figured it out, got hold
of another plan. Oh Christ, damn Lewis Mendoza in his
little slum streak mugging. What the hell did that matter?
(14:24):
Some damn fool chippy knocked off. Probably she had asked
for it, and that crazy idea about those Lindstroms, who
couldn't buy any fantastic stretch of the imagination, have had
anything to do. Because yes, this upright citizen Morgan had
a good, innocent reason to visit that apartment house. He
wouldn't care if the whole LA police force stood by
and squats to watch him go in. But after he
(14:45):
was clocked in by men watching, he couldn't lie in,
wait maybe an hour, and do what he had come
to do and then say just as I got to
the top of the stairs. Nor could he call at
the Lindstroms first, thinking to say just as I was leaving.
That woman might not be very smart, but she could
tell time, and supposed he had left her half an
hour before, as might well happen. Also, of course, there
(15:06):
was no telling about the cops where and how and
how many It might be a desultory thing, one man
outside up to midnight, something like that. It might be
a couple of men round a clock. It could be
a couple men inside somewhere. So he hadn't dared go
near Graham Court at all. Had had to be the
street corner and on his way here, and up to
a while ago, he had been telling himself that, after all,
(15:27):
the street was safer once you were off Maine, off
second along. Here the streets were under lighted, and there
weren't many people in all this. While he had stood
and strolled up and down outside the corner drug store here,
only four people had come by at long intervals. Safer
and also more plausible that Smith would try hold up
on a darkish side street instead of in the very
building where he lived. Morgan had been feeling pretty good then,
(15:50):
ready for it. Coldly wound up the way it had
been before action, when you knew action was coming, but
in control, he had known just how it would go.
Smith coming along. He'd been wary before, sent the boy
to check that Morgan had come alone, but this time
he wouldn't bother. He thought he had Morgan and the
ransom tied up, and Morgan pretending nervousness, saying he had
(16:11):
the money locked in the glove compartment. His car was
just around the corner. Round the corner and even narrower,
darker street. Sure to God, Smith would walk a dozen
steps with him, safe and easy. Sure Before a while ago,
when the scraggly bald old fellow had peered out the
drug store door at him, Morgan knew this window by heart.
(16:32):
Now everything and a little dusty, a little second hand,
looking out of date ad placards, the platinum blond with
a toothy smile, instant protection, the giant tube of shaving cream,
the giant bottle of antiseptic, the cigarette ad Get satisfaction,
the face cream ad you can look younger. In a
vague way, he had known the drug store was open,
(16:52):
but the door was shut. On this coolish evening. He
hadn't glanced inside. When people came by, he had strolled
away the opposite direction. Seemed to take much notice of him.
Why should they? And then that old fellow came to
the door peered out. Morgan met his glance through the
dirty glass panel. By chance, and that was when time
began to race. Ah, don't let Smith come now, not
(17:13):
until I've had time to think. The druggist alone there,
pottering around his store in the hopeful expectation of a
few customers before nine o'clock, or maybe just because he
hadn't anything to go home to, time on his hands,
looking out the window the door every so often for
customers at first, and then to see only out of
idle curiosity. If that fellow was still there on the corner,
(17:35):
waiting all that clutter in the window, Morgan hadn't noticed him.
Not much light, no, but enough and without thought. When
he was standing still, he had hugged the building for
shelter from the chill wind. Most of the time he'd
have been in the perimeter of light from the window,
from the door. God alone knew how often the old
man had looked out spotted him. The expression in the
(17:57):
roomy eyes meaning his briefly through the dirty pane, focused, curious,
a little defensive, told Morgan the man had marked him individually,
and hell, hell, it didn't matter whether the druggist thought
he had been stood up by a date or was
planning to hold up the drug store, or was just
lonely or worried or crazy hanging around this corner an
(18:17):
hour and twelve minutes, the druggist would remember him. That
was a basic principle and only common sense and planning
anything under hand in secret, from robbing Junior's piggybank to murder.
Keep it simple, don't have too many lies to remember.
Don't dream up the complicated routine, the fancy alibi. The
way he had designed it was like that, short, straight
(18:40):
and sweet. Now if he went on with it that way,
there'd be the plausible lie to figure out and remember
and stick to. Just why the hell had Morgan been
hanging around here? Obviously a man waiting for some one
half formed ideas, wild ridiculous scattered along the top of
his mind. You know how it is, Officer, I met
this blonde. Didn't mean any harm, but a fellow likes
(19:01):
a night out once in a while. Sure I felt guilty,
Sure I loved my wife. But while the blonde said
she'd meet me, I tell you how it was. I
lit this guy at five spot. Felt sorry for him.
You know, I guess I was a sucker. Anyway, he
said he'd meet me and pay Well, I met this fellow.
He'd said he'd give me an inside tip on a
horse only he wouldn't know for sure until tonight, and
(19:22):
if I'd meet him. All right, he thought, furiously, All right,
of all the damn fool ideas, so produce the blonde,
the debtor, the tipster. It couldn't be done that way.
He stood now, right at the building corner, close out
of the druggist's view. Think, if when Smith comes, what
(19:42):
are you gonna do? Now? What can you do? The
little panic passed and he saw the only possible answer.
It wasn't a very good one. It put more complication
into this than was really safe. But that couldn't be helped. Obviously,
Get Smith away from this place. The farther away the better.
In the car, Stall him and get him into the car,
and christ the possibilities, the dangers that opened up. Couldn't
(20:07):
drive far, maybe not at all without getting him suspicious. Sure,
knock him out with a wrench or something as soon
as they got in. Fine, and have it show up
at the autopsy later on. Great, shoot him in the
car under the cover of the revving motor and get
blood all over the seat covers. All right, think, yes,
(20:29):
it could be managed. It had to be the only way.
In the car, then right away and in the body
so the clothes wouldn't get the blood. Have to take
a chance, then quick around a Humboldt or Foster. Only
a few blocks, both dark streets too, Thank god. Park
the car, get him out to the sidewalk, get his
(20:50):
prints on the gun, make a little disturbance, Fire another shot,
and yell for the cops. I was on my way
to visit this case. I'm on when and the drug
no danger then no reason to connect a hold up
there with his corner. Not as safe, but it could work.
Maybe with luck it would work fine. Now let Smith come.
(21:11):
Morgan was ready for him, as ready as he'd ever be.
He looked at his watch. It was seventeen minutes past eight,
and suddenly he began to get in a sweat about
something else. Smith had made him wait on Saturday night,
deliberately to soften him up. But why the hell should
Smith delay coming to collect the ransom? He thought was
waiting cops, thought Morgan, cold, resentful, sullen, helpless cops may
(21:39):
be so obvious there outside inside that Smith spotted them
and thought, of course Morgan had roped them in God,
the whole thing blown open. End of chapter ten
Chapter ten of case pending by Del Shannon. This livervox
recording is in the public domain. Chapter ten. I have
the feeling, said Mendoza discreetly in Spanish, for the waiter
who had seated them was still with an ear shot.
They'd better apologies for the mill were about to have.
(00:21):
But why everything looks horribly impressive, including the prices. In fact,
after that automatic glance at the right hand column, said Alison,
putting down the immense menu card. I have the feeling.
I've been in the wrong business all my life. I
never can quite remember how it goes about fooling some
of the people, et cetera. Mendoza glanced thoughtfully around the
(00:42):
main dining room of the Maison Deuchamp, which was mostly
magenta underlighted and decorated with would be funny murals of
lascivious felines. It's curious how many people are ready to
believe that the highest prices guarantee the best value. The
waiter came back and insinuated under their nose liquorless only
slightly smaller than the menus. What would you like to drink? Sherry,
(01:07):
said Alison faintly, her eyes wandering down the right column
and a straight rye, he said to the waiter, who
looked shaken and took back the cards with the disappointed murmur.
Not in character. I'd expected to find you something of
a gourmet. My god, I'd thought i'd make a better impression.
Less one thinks about one's stomach, the less trouble it's
(01:28):
apt to costs. I know just enough about wine to
call your attention to those anonymous offerings. You just looked
at port musquatel, to O K and so on at
three dollars the half bottle, and there'll be the domestic
product available at the near supermarket for what about one
eighty nine the gallon. They're not losing money on the
imported ones either, about a one hundred percent mark up.
(01:51):
He looked around again, casually, focused on something past her shoulder,
and began to smile slowly to himself. Now, isn't that interesting?
I couldn't agree more, I said, I've always found the
subject fascinating. You are pleased about something, and it can't
be the prices. I just noticed an old friend, and
what's more, he noticed me he isn't nearly so pleased
(02:13):
about it. The waiter, doing his best with pseudo gallic
murmurs and deft gestures with paper mats to invest these
plebeian potions with glamor served them. Mendoza picked up his
rye and sniffed it, cautiously saluted pissettas. And if this
cost them more'n a dollar a fifth wholesale, they're being cheated,
which I doubt. Why did we come here, I gather
(02:33):
it's new to you too. We came because I'm interested
in this place, not as a restaurant professionally. Of course,
I also want to impress you. You have and I'm
grateful to find you. See through these spurious trappings of
the merely expensive. Next time i'll take you to a
hamburger stand. You will not. I like an excuse to
(02:54):
get really dressed up occasionally. She had, after all, compromised
with his dictation. Pearls and a very mum de quellete.
But for the rest an oyster silk sheath. I complimented
you once. Don't fish for more, so, early, said Mendoza placidly.
And what I expected to get by coming, besides roked
out of a little money, I don't know. Mister Torres
(03:15):
Domingo is an unexpected bonus. You see, the uncle of
your late pupil went out of his way to visit
this place last night, which seemed a little odd. Oh,
I should think.
Speaker 2 (03:25):
So.
Speaker 1 (03:26):
Who is the other gentleman you mentioned? Oh, I wouldn't
say gentlemen. He just barely avoided an indictment for homicide
about eighteen months ago. He was then the proprietor of
a bar on Third Avenue. Another gentleman, who later turned
out to have been a small time wholesaler of heroin,
got himself shot full of holes by a third gentleman,
who subsequently said that mister the first gentleman had offered
(03:47):
him a substantial sum of money to do the job.
We didn't doubt his word after what showed up, but
unfortunately there just wasn't enough evidence. The first gentleman retired
modestly across the Mexican border, though he is an American citizen,
and it's interesting to know he's back home. I don't
want him for anything myself, but Lieutenant Patrick Callahan will
(04:07):
be very interested to hear that he's now the head
waiter at a fashionable restaurant. I deduce that the lieutenant
is on the narcotics team or whatever you call it.
And as you and I are not the only people
in the world who speak Spanish, we will now cease
to talk shop. What are we offered? All the standard
Parisian concoctions. Women living alone subsist mostly on casseroles. Anyway,
(04:30):
no treat to you. I suggest the one concession to
Americanism a stick medium. Well, she agreed meekly, And when
the waiter had gone, may I ask just one question.
People make a lot of money in that business you mentioned, wholesaling,
you know what, Why should they go to all the
trouble of holding down regular jobs too? I always thought
(04:51):
of them as as coming out at night slinking furtively
down alleys, you know, like that, not punching time clocks.
Oh god, he said, Now you've taken my appetite away. Well,
there's a den of crafty, blood sucking robbers in Washington.
You'll have heard of them. Which ones it says, Bureau
of Internal Revenue on the door. Now, the l a
(05:13):
p D. Couldn't get one useful piece of evidence against
the gentleman, I mentioned, as we can't always against a
lot of others, and a lot of businesses, and I
do mean big businesses. On the wrong side of the law.
But we can't poke our noses into some things. Those
fellows can a hundred thousand dollar apartment house, a new Cadillac,
a mink coat for the girl friend. You are doing well,
mister Smith. How come you never told your uncle about it?
(05:35):
And if mister Smith can't explain just where it all
came from, he's got a lot more grief than a
mere city cop could ever hand him. Oh, I see,
I do indeed cover and then added Mendoza, not altogether humorously.
One uncle has stowed mister Smith away in jail for
tax evation. The indignant public points an accusing finger at
(05:56):
us and says, corrupt cups. They must have known something
about him, stupid cops. If they didn't find out, why
wasn't he arrested for his real crimes? You try to
tell them, just try that it's because we have to
operate within laws about evidence designed to protect the public.
I wonder whether I ought to call in and tell
Pat's office about this. Mister Torres Domingo, who had made
(06:18):
a precipitate exit on first catching sight of him, reappeared
round the screen at the service doors, polishing his bald
head with a handkerchief. He shot one furtive glance in
Mendoza's direction, pasted on a professional happy smile, and began
to circulate among the tables, pausing for a bow, a
word here and there with a favored patron. Oh, well,
there's no hurry. You want to run away, and for
(06:39):
all I know he's reformed and hasn't any reason to.
Any Way, the stakes could have been less tough, the
service might, with advantage, have been less ostentatious. Mendoza asked
her presently whether she had got anything useful from any
of the girls. I wondered, when you'd ask nothing at all.
I'm sorry to say she hadn't said anything to any
of them about that, but she didn't know any of
(07:02):
them well after all, No, I didn't expect much of that.
I've got a queer sort of can I call it
a lead from another angle, but I don't know that
that means much either. What do you think of the murals?
I've never asked you what kind of thing you paint?
Allison said the murals constituted a libel on the feline race,
and that she was herself unfashionably pre impressionistic. This and
(07:26):
that I'm not wedded to any one particular type of
subject now and then I actually sell something. They talked
about painting, They talked about cats. But when you're away
all day, you can't keep pets. It's not fair. Nobody
keeps a cat. They condescend to live with you as all.
And as for the rest of it, I moved it
(07:46):
smiles farther for me to drive, and the rents higher.
But it's on the ground floor, and they let me
put in one of those little swinging doors in the
back door. Why out to the yard. You've seen the ads.
Let your pet come and go freely. Yes, a finite,
but she won't use it. She knows how it works,
but she doesn't like the way it slaps her behind
and she got her tail pinched once. Fortunately, all the
(08:07):
other seven apartments are inhabited by cat people. Four of
them have keys to mine and run in and out
all day waiting on her, which of course is what
she schemes for. I believe missus Carter and missus Bryson,
he added, looking around for the waiter alternate their shopping
tours and visits to the beauty salon coffee please, and
perhaps some of our special brandies, sir, that I need,
(08:29):
said Allison, after listening to this bare faced confession, battening
on the charity of your neighbors, like that one of
the reasons I picked the apartment. The elgins keep her
supplied with catnip mice. They buy them in wholesale lots,
having three sigames of their own. Of course, there is
a man two doors down who has a spaniel. But
one must expect some undesirables in these unrestricted neighborhoods. The
(08:54):
waiter came back with the coffee, the brandy, and the
bill on a salver, contriving to slide that in front
of him Mendoza by kind of Ledgermaine, suggesting that it
appeared out of thin air, not through any offices of
this obsequacious and excellent servant. Mendoza looked at it, laid
two tins on the salver, and said now he needed
the brandy too. I have no sympathy for you, said Alison.
(09:15):
When they came out into the foyer, Mendoza hesitated, glancing
at the discreet row of phone boots in the alcove.
I wonder if I had there. It appeared, no bowing,
smiling headwaiter as they left the dining room to make
the last honors to new patrons, urge a return. Oh well,
and he put a hand automatically to his pocket for
more largesse. As one of the several liveried lackeys approached
(09:37):
with Allison's coat, so abitu ave ad uizzas sour and
Madame oop, you enjoy your dinner. You must come back soon,
Holy Mother of God, what the hell was that between them?
They dropped the coat. The lackey took one look over
Allison's shoulder, said Jesus, let me out of here, and
dived blindly for the door, staggering Mendoza aside. The second
(10:00):
volley of shots was a medley of several calibers, including
what sounded like a couple of regulation Thirty eighths from
the dark end of the corridor off the foyer plunged
a large, shapeless man waving a revolver, and close after
him the tuxedo clad rotundity of mister Torres Domingo, similarly equipped.
The check room attendant prudently dropped flat behind his counter
(10:20):
as the large man paused to fire twice more behind
him and charged into the foyer wait for me, Nattie.
Mister Torres Domingo sent one wild shot behind him and
another inadvertently into the nearest foam booth as he continued flight.
The first man swept the gun in an arc round
the foyer. Do nobody move, I'm coming through. Mendoza recovered
(10:41):
his balance, shoved Alison hard a sprawl full length on
the floor, and in one leap, covered the ten feet
to the gun as it swung back in his direction.
He got a good left handed grip on the gun
hand as they collided, his momentum lending force to the
considerable impact, and as they went down, landed one right
that connected satisfactorily. Nettie went over backward and Mendoza went
with him. The gun emptied itself into the ceiling. As
(11:02):
they hit the floor, with Mendoza's knee in the paunch
under him. Neddie uttered a strange whoof and lost all
interest in the proceedings. Mister Torres Domingo yelped, fired once
more and hit the plate glass door, turned and ran
into the embrace of an enormous red haired man and
the vanguard of the pursuit, which had just erupted down
the corridor. The red haired man adjusted him to a
convenient position and hid him once in the jaw, and
(11:24):
he flew backward six feet and collapsed on top of Mendoza,
who was just setting up One of the three men behind.
The red haired man dropped his gun and sank on
to the divan beside the checkroom, clutching his shoulder. There
was a very short silence before several women in the
crowd collecting at the dining room door went off like
air raid sirens. Mendoza heaved off, mister Torres Domingo, sat
(11:45):
up and began to swear in Spanish. The red haired
man bellowed the crowd a quiet and turned to the
man nearest him, find the following and call the wagon
in an ambulance, and flinging round to the man on
the divan, just one of the name of Jesus, Mary
and Joseph. Did you think you were doing? You all? Might? He? Bastard?
You here de better take your hands off that man
you serve a dublin whore. Mendoza shoved him away and
(12:06):
bent over Higgins, who was fumbling a handkerchief under his coat.
Easy boy, it's not bad, Lieutenant. I just before God
Louis Mendoza, does this belong to you? Just what the
holy hell are you doing in this? You're telling me
you put this blundering bostard out back there to bitch
up two months work, when the first chance I've had
to lay my hands on or bust your right in
(12:27):
the oil. Mendoza twitched the handkerchief from the red haired
man's breast pocket, wanted it up with his own, shoved
Higgins flat on the divan, and pulled aside the coat
to slap on the temporary bandage. Temper, Patrick, Temper. We're
in public, you'll be giving people the idea there's no loyalty,
no unity in the police force. And listen, you're red bustard.
(12:47):
Next time you have to knock a man out to
arrest him, for the love of God, don't aim him
at me. You've dominir fretchured my spine. There's a squad car,
for God's sake, that's clear. This crowd back, who's this?
The little round man who had popped out like a
cork from the dining room crowd was sounding off in
a falsetto.
Speaker 2 (13:02):
I am the manager, I am the owner. What do
you do here in my police shooting and yelling. I
call the police. What is this about shootings gangsters? I
will not have gangsters in my nice, quiet place. Then
you shouldn't hire one as a head waiter, said Mendoza.
And you should also change your butcher. Your stakes are tough.
Speaker 1 (13:21):
He pushed past him and went over to Allison, who
was just somewhat shakily regaining her feet. I don't usually
knock them down the first date, Mivita. Apologies, are you
all right here? Sit down? I'm all right, said Allison,
but you owe me a pair of stockings. Morgan had
read somewhere that marijuana did this to you, played tricks
(13:42):
with time, So first it seemed to slow down, almost
grind to a full stop, and then sent everything past
you at the speed of light. His watch told him
he had been standing here on this corner just an
hour and twelve minutes, no more and no less. For
a while it had felt like half eternity. And then
a while after that, time began to go too fast.
(14:02):
Where he had been tense with impatience, wound up tight
for action. God, God, make him come suddenly. Now. He
could have prayed for time to stop. Not now, he said,
to Smith frantically in his mind, you can't come now
until I've thought about this, figured it out, got hold
of another plan. Oh Christ, damn Lewis Mendoza in his
little slum streak mugging. What the hell did that matter?
(14:24):
Some damn fool chippy knocked off. Probably she had asked
for it, and that crazy idea about those Lindstroms, who
couldn't buy any fantastic stretch of the imagination, have had
anything to do. Because yes, this upright citizen Morgan had
a good, innocent reason to visit that apartment house. He
wouldn't care if the whole LA police force stood by
and squats to watch him go in. But after he
(14:45):
was clocked in by men watching, he couldn't lie in,
wait maybe an hour, and do what he had come
to do and then say just as I got to
the top of the stairs. Nor could he call at
the Lindstroms first, thinking to say just as I was leaving.
That woman might not be very smart, but she could
tell time, and supposed he had left her half an
hour before, as might well happen. Also, of course, there
(15:06):
was no telling about the cops where and how and
how many It might be a desultory thing, one man
outside up to midnight, something like that. It might be
a couple of men round a clock. It could be
a couple men inside somewhere. So he hadn't dared go
near Graham Court at all. Had had to be the
street corner and on his way here, and up to
a while ago, he had been telling himself that, after all,
(15:27):
the street was safer once you were off Maine, off
second along. Here the streets were under lighted, and there
weren't many people in all this. While he had stood
and strolled up and down outside the corner drug store here,
only four people had come by at long intervals. Safer
and also more plausible that Smith would try hold up
on a darkish side street instead of in the very
building where he lived. Morgan had been feeling pretty good then,
(15:50):
ready for it. Coldly wound up the way it had
been before action, when you knew action was coming, but
in control, he had known just how it would go.
Smith coming along. He'd been wary before, sent the boy
to check that Morgan had come alone, but this time
he wouldn't bother. He thought he had Morgan and the
ransom tied up, and Morgan pretending nervousness, saying he had
(16:11):
the money locked in the glove compartment. His car was
just around the corner. Round the corner and even narrower,
darker street. Sure to God, Smith would walk a dozen
steps with him, safe and easy. Sure Before a while ago,
when the scraggly bald old fellow had peered out the
drug store door at him, Morgan knew this window by heart.
(16:32):
Now everything and a little dusty, a little second hand,
looking out of date ad placards, the platinum blond with
a toothy smile, instant protection, the giant tube of shaving cream,
the giant bottle of antiseptic, the cigarette ad Get satisfaction,
the face cream ad you can look younger. In a
vague way, he had known the drug store was open,
(16:52):
but the door was shut. On this coolish evening. He
hadn't glanced inside. When people came by, he had strolled
away the opposite direction. Seemed to take much notice of him.
Why should they? And then that old fellow came to
the door peered out. Morgan met his glance through the
dirty glass panel. By chance, and that was when time
began to race. Ah, don't let Smith come now, not
(17:13):
until I've had time to think. The druggist alone there,
pottering around his store in the hopeful expectation of a
few customers before nine o'clock, or maybe just because he
hadn't anything to go home to, time on his hands,
looking out the window the door every so often for
customers at first, and then to see only out of
idle curiosity. If that fellow was still there on the corner,
(17:35):
waiting all that clutter in the window, Morgan hadn't noticed him.
Not much light, no, but enough and without thought. When
he was standing still, he had hugged the building for
shelter from the chill wind. Most of the time he'd
have been in the perimeter of light from the window,
from the door. God alone knew how often the old
man had looked out spotted him. The expression in the
(17:57):
roomy eyes meaning his briefly through the dirty pane, focused, curious,
a little defensive, told Morgan the man had marked him individually,
and hell, hell, it didn't matter whether the druggist thought
he had been stood up by a date or was
planning to hold up the drug store, or was just
lonely or worried or crazy hanging around this corner an
(18:17):
hour and twelve minutes, the druggist would remember him. That
was a basic principle and only common sense and planning
anything under hand in secret, from robbing Junior's piggybank to murder.
Keep it simple, don't have too many lies to remember.
Don't dream up the complicated routine, the fancy alibi. The
way he had designed it was like that, short, straight
(18:40):
and sweet. Now if he went on with it that way,
there'd be the plausible lie to figure out and remember
and stick to. Just why the hell had Morgan been
hanging around here? Obviously a man waiting for some one
half formed ideas, wild ridiculous scattered along the top of
his mind. You know how it is, Officer, I met
this blonde. Didn't mean any harm, but a fellow likes
(19:01):
a night out once in a while. Sure I felt guilty,
Sure I loved my wife. But while the blonde said
she'd meet me, I tell you how it was. I
lit this guy at five spot. Felt sorry for him.
You know, I guess I was a sucker. Anyway, he
said he'd meet me and pay Well, I met this fellow.
He'd said he'd give me an inside tip on a
horse only he wouldn't know for sure until tonight, and
(19:22):
if I'd meet him. All right, he thought, furiously, All right,
of all the damn fool ideas, so produce the blonde,
the debtor, the tipster. It couldn't be done that way.
He stood now, right at the building corner, close out
of the druggist's view. Think, if when Smith comes, what
(19:42):
are you gonna do? Now? What can you do? The
little panic passed and he saw the only possible answer.
It wasn't a very good one. It put more complication
into this than was really safe. But that couldn't be helped. Obviously,
Get Smith away from this place. The farther away the better.
In the car, Stall him and get him into the car,
and christ the possibilities, the dangers that opened up. Couldn't
(20:07):
drive far, maybe not at all without getting him suspicious. Sure,
knock him out with a wrench or something as soon
as they got in. Fine, and have it show up
at the autopsy later on. Great, shoot him in the
car under the cover of the revving motor and get
blood all over the seat covers. All right, think, yes,
(20:29):
it could be managed. It had to be the only way.
In the car, then right away and in the body
so the clothes wouldn't get the blood. Have to take
a chance, then quick around a Humboldt or Foster. Only
a few blocks, both dark streets too, Thank god. Park
the car, get him out to the sidewalk, get his
(20:50):
prints on the gun, make a little disturbance, Fire another shot,
and yell for the cops. I was on my way
to visit this case. I'm on when and the drug
no danger then no reason to connect a hold up
there with his corner. Not as safe, but it could work.
Maybe with luck it would work fine. Now let Smith come.
(21:11):
Morgan was ready for him, as ready as he'd ever be.
He looked at his watch. It was seventeen minutes past eight,
and suddenly he began to get in a sweat about
something else. Smith had made him wait on Saturday night,
deliberately to soften him up. But why the hell should
Smith delay coming to collect the ransom? He thought was
waiting cops, thought Morgan, cold, resentful, sullen, helpless cops may
(21:39):
be so obvious there outside inside that Smith spotted them
and thought, of course Morgan had roped them in God,
the whole thing blown open. End of chapter ten
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