By the time Ernie and I got to the headquarters interrogation room, the black-haired chick was alive and kicking again. There was one chair in the room and they told her over and over to sit in it. But she was everywhere, all over that room, when we got there. Two detectives, a uniformed cop and a matron were making efforts to control her. The matron was present so there could never be any kick-back on what happened to Jackie Palmer during the questioning. She seemed more interested than effective. Neal Burgess had been summoned from his home and leaned against a wall, looking ill.
The girl was raging around the room, snarling and cursing, when Ernie and I came in.
“Stupid bastards,” she screamed. “All of you. I want to get out of here! Do you hear me? I want to get out of here right now. You can’t keep me here. I’m afraid of this place.”
She thrust her splayed fingers into her wildly disheveled hair, yanking at it.
“What kind of deal is this, Ballard? Ernie?” Neal stared at us.
“She’s hopped up,” Ernie said. “She’s on the needle.”
“You lie!” the girl screamed. “That’s another rotten filthy lie. You wait till my people get through with you dirty rotten liars.”
“Sure,” I said. “Just wait.”
At the sound of my voice, the girl stopped, tense. Her hands were knotted in her hair. Her shoulders were straight and she poised a moment on her toes.
She turned slowly, looking up at me.
“You know me, Ballard,” she said.
“I know you.”
“You better tell that to these flunkeys, these overpaid garbage men.”
“What do you want me to tell them?”
She breathed rapidly, her lips parted. “You better tell them who I am. You better tell them what my friends are going to do to them.”
“Maybe you’d better tell them, Jackie”
“What’s the matter with you?” she screamed. “You know they can’t keep me here in this dirty place. You know I’m a friend of Morgan Carmichael’s. I’m a friend of his father’s, too. And my own father will fix all of you. And if he can’t do it, he’ll get Fred Carmichael to do it. You can’t keep me in this vile place. I’m afraid in this place.”
This chick didn’t look afraid. She looked more vicious than frightened. Her hands were clenched into tense claws. Her mouth was twisted and rouge was streaked across her cheek where she had dragged her hand. The pupils of her eyes were pinpoints and even when she glared at me her eyes did not really focus.
“You better help me, Ballard.” Her voice rose into a keening wail. “They killed Jerry. And now they’re trying to keep me in this place. Mr. Fred Carmichael and Mayor Bibb—they’re going to break all these dirty men— and they’ll get you, too, if you don’t help me.”
“Sure.” I took a step toward her. “The Mayor and Fred Carmichael. They’re going to fix the Greek, too, huh?”
She shook her head wildly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about”
I took another step. She turned her head, looking around as if trying to find a place to run. “Sit down, Jackie,” I said.
She shook her head, but took a backward step, sat down hard on the straight chair.
“Damn you. They’ll fix you, too, Ballard.”
“You let me worry about that, Jackie. Right now I’m worried about a little Greek. Never did a soul a bad thing in his life. He may be bleeding to death. Maybe he’s dead already.”
“I didn’t do it.”
“You were there, baby. You would have done it if you could have. And for what? For kicks?”
“I don’t know anything about it. I want to get out of here. I’m no tramp you people can push around. I know people and I know what they can do to you.”
“Sure, you know everybody, Jackie. Only they aren’t going to help you. When this needle wears off, you won’t care about the people you know. The only soul you’ll really give a damn about is the one who can give you a fix—and I’ll tell you now when you’re going to get that next fix, baby. You want to know when?”
She was glaring up at me with those off-focus eyes, her chest moving with her rapid breathing.
“You’ll get your next fix, baby, when you decide to tell us the name of the man you work for.”
She screamed, clawing at her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I want to get out of here.”
Her voice rattled against the walls, shook up everybody in the room except the matron and me. Neal went to the door, hurried out
The matron came over to Jackie. Jackie stared at her, pushing out her lip like a child in a tantrum. The matron lifted her hand as if to backhand her across the mouth.
“You want it, chick?” the matron said. “Or you want to shut your mouth?”
Jackie said no more. She sat trembling, breathing wildly, staring up at us.
Ernie and I were at his desk waiting for a call from the hospital. Doc Yerrgsted had promised to let us know as soon as there was anything on the Greek.
When the phone rang, Ernie lunged for it.
“Detective bureau. Lieutenant Gault.” He looked up at me, shook his head. It was not Doc Yerrgsted.
He sat a moment, listening. “No,” he said.
After a long time, he said, “All right, Commissioner. All right.”
Neal Burgess came out of his cubbyhole at the end of the long room. Chief Waylin was with him.
“Was that Commissioner Mitchell?” Waylin said.
Ernie stared at them. “Didn’t you know it was going to be?”
Waylin and Burgess had reached Ernie’s desk by now. Waylin looked white around the mouth.
“What kind of talk is that, Gault?” He moved close to Ernie’s desk, stared down at the little man. “I might expect something like that from Ballard, but not from you.”
“Maybe you’d better expect it from me, too,” Ernie said.
Waylin tensed, but Neal Burgess caught his arm. “Take it easy, Clyde. Ernie’s upset. This has been a hell of a time.”
“It’s been a hell of a time for all of us,” Waylin said. “He doesn’t have to take it out on me.”
“What did the commissioner want?” Burgess said.
“He didn’t want anything. He called in to tell me that Mr. Judson Palmer will be down here with his attorneys in about ten minutes, and that Palmer’s daughter is to be released into the custody of her father.”
“All right,” Waylin said. “That’s what we’ll do. We obey orders around here, Gault. All of us.”
“And what about our material witness in a murder and attempted extortion case?” Ernie stood up. He was not as tall as Burgess and much thinner than Waylin. He didn’t look like a match for either of them. But what he had they couldn’t touch, a record of service and honesty that made him ten feet tall.
“Nobody’s letting her get away.” Waylin gestured with his clenched fist. “Her family is one of the finest in this town. She’ll be where we can get her. When we want her.”
“When that dame walks out of here, you’ll never see her again.” Ernie’s voice shook. “She was the moll along when Climonte was killed. She was there today when two hoods were killed, and Spyrous Papolous was shot—and Papolous may be dead by now. I don’t give a damn who this dame is, or who her family is. She’s on dope, she’s mixed up in this racket—a big thrill for her. But it’s murder.”
“We follow orders, Ernie,” Waylin said again.
“I’m damned if I do. I’ve followed orders. From you and from Neal. I’ve followed them, by God, until I’m so dirty rotten filthy I can’t live in my skin. I won’t do it. Not any more. You let that dirty-mouthed little bitch walk out of here, and I’m going to resign. But I’ll be damned if I’ll resign quietly. Everybody in this town will know why I quit. I’ve given my whole life to this damned police department. I’ve gone into debt trying to give my wife and kids the few basic things they ought to have, but I’ve never taken a cent above my salary. And I’ve worked twenty hours a day when I had to.”
“You’re all upset, Ernie,” Waylin said.
“You’re damned right I’m upset. I’m telling you again—you let that thrill-crazy slut out of here, and you get my resignation. And I’ll see that the story makes every paper in town.”
I caught Ernie’s arm. “Take it easy.”
“Leave me alone, Mike. God knows I’m a hell of a lot smarter than I was four years ago when I thought you were a crooked cop—I don’t think that now. But I’ve had a bellyful, Mike. I know what I’ve got to do and you can’t stop me.”
“You’ve got three kids to feed, too,” I said. I kept my voice flat.
Ernie stopped. He seemed to shrink into himself. Then he shook his head. “I can’t help it. I can get some clean job. I can scrub sewers. But I can’t stomach this dirty dishonesty—not any more.”
Waylin had calmed down now. He seemed to grow calmer the more agitated Ernie Gault became.
“We’re only following orders, Ernie. You know what discipline means in the department. Both Neal and I would do anything for you. But we’ve got to do as we’re told.”
“Not like this, Clyde.” Ernie heeled around, pleading with Burgess. “Neal? For God’s sake. Tell him. This is too rotten. We can’t go on taking orders like this.”
Neal wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m afraid we’ve got to, Ernie. I’m sorry.”
Waylin actually forced himself to laugh. “Mike Ballard knows the score, Ernie. My God, if you don’t know it, what can I say to you? You mean a lot to all of us, Ernie. To the whole department. But one thing doesn’t change. We just work here, Ernie. Go on home and sleep this off. You’ll see it all differently tomorrow.”
Waylin’s voice was soft, almost gentle. But his words were like fists hitting Ernie Gault in the face. Ernie retreated, braced himself against his desk. He would not look at any of us. He did not move.