The Mammoth Book Of Roaring Twenties Whodunnits Part 7

O'Farrell was impressed. The girl had no illusions about herself or, apparently, her situation.

"And Vincent doesn't love me," she said. She wiggled the fingers of one hand at him, the light playing off the sparks. "He owns me, like one of these diamonds. It sounds odd. He just wants to have me on his arm to show me off, but then he never takes me out. I can't explain it. All I know is he's not here tonight and I really want it. Whataya say?"

"Look, Georgie-"

She did something with the top of her dress and it fell to her waist. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were beautiful round orbs with tight pink nipples. She would not have made a good Ziegfeld girl, after all. Too big. She stared at him with those big violet eyes and poured the rest of her bourbon over her bare chest. One ice cube fell to the floor while another disappeared into her dress.

Why not? he thought, coming to his feet. When would he ever get a chance like this again? He had to find out where that second ice cube had gone.

4.

They spent the next morning getting acquainted over breakfast because they really didn't do much talking during the night. When O'Farrell asked her about the doorman she told him not to worry. The doorman liked her and wouldn't say a word to Balducci about O'Farrell staying the entire night.

"So who would want to hurt you?" he asked her over steak and eggs at a diner around the corner. He was wearing his linen suit again, but had left the silk tie off this morning, preferring to stow it in his jacket pocket. Georgie was wearing an angora sweater with a pin in the shape of the letter "G", and a skirt with a fas.h.i.+onable six inch hem. The sweater molded itself to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her golden hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She wasn't wearing as much make up as the night before and looked much younger. But those eyes . . . made up or not, they popped.

"That's another one of Vincent's fantasies," she said. "n.o.body wants to hurt me. I don't need a bodyguard although I certainly needed you last night, didn't I?" She ran her toe up his leg.

"Just answer the question and stop playing footsie under the table, young lady."

"Ooh, Daddy," she purred, "scold me some more."

Somehow, after spending the night with her, her voice didn't seem quite as whiney or annoying. She sure had more than enough other qualities to make up for it although some of those qualities certainly would not be seen by the judges.

"Georgie," O'Farrell said, moving his leg, "be serious."

"I am serious," she said. "n.o.body wants to hurt me. Vincent thinks everyone wants what he's got. Well, if no one knows he's got me, what's the problem?"

"Someone must know," O'Farrell said, "somebody who works for him but knows when to make excuses for him."

"Sure, they know he's got someone," she said, "but not who it is."

"Look," O'Farrell said, "Balducci is paying me to protect you, and that's what I'm going to do."

"And more, I think," she said.

After breakfast O'Farrell walked Georgie back to her building and said he had to go home to change.

"Aren't you afraid someone's gonna attack me?"

"I think what Vincent wants is for me to escort you to the beauty pageant, and protect you," O'Farrell said, "starting with the party at the Yacht Club. So I'll pick you up here what time is the party?"

"The festivities start at three," she said. "I'm supposed to be there at noon, though."

"Noon?"

"I'm part of the show, after all," she said, archly.

"How many contestants are there?"

"There were supposed to be a lot, but we ended up with just twelve. Some folks sponsors are really upset about it."

"Twelve beautiful girls, huh?" O'Farrell said. "All right, then I guess I'll pick you up here at ten. I a.s.sume Balducci will supply transportation?"

"He'll have an automobile here to take us over to New Jersey. Probably a Rolls."

O'Farrell made a face. He still preferred horses, but it was a long way to Atlantic City.

"Okay," he said. "I'll see you then."

"What about tomorrow?" she asked. "Don't you want to see me tomorrow?"

"I don't think-"

She came closer to him.

"After everything we did to each other last night you can wait two days to see me?"

"Hey, Georgie," O'Farrell said, "you're the one who said that what we did last night was just s.e.x."

"Well, yes," she said, touching his lapel, "but it was good s.e.x, wasn't it?"

"It was great," he said, "fabulous. You're a wonderful gal, but you belong to my client."

"That didn't seem to bother you last night?"

"Last night I gave in to bourbon and a pair of gorgeous . . . eyes."

She smiled. "You think my . . . eyes are gorgeous?" she asked, pausing suggestively exactly where he did.

"You know they are." Behind Georgie, O'Farrell could see the doorman watching him. A different one today than last night, but another young man, this one eyeing Georgie appreciatively not that O'Farrell could blame him.

"You sure this doorman is not on Balducci's payroll?"

"I'm this sure," she said. She slid her hands around his neck and gave him a kiss that could have melted the soles of his shoes. Her tongue fluttered in his mouth and she bit his bottom lip lightly before stepping back and smiling at him.

"Okay," she said, wiggling her fingers at him, "see you the day after tomorrow, Lover."

5.

But Friday, when he went to pick her up, there was no answer at the door. He went down to ask the doorman if he'd seen Georgie Taylor that morning. This was the same doorman who had watched her kiss him goodbye the other day.

"No, sir," the man said. "I haven't seen her today, at all."

O'Farrell studied the man for a moment, then took a ten out of his wallet.

"What's your name?"

"Henry, sir." Henry was a young man in his late twenties. He was eyeing the ten in O'Farrell's hand hungrily.

"Tell me, Henry, has Miss Taylor had any visitors since I was here?"

"No, sir."

"Not Mr Balducci?"

"Well, yes sir," Henry said. "He came by last night. I didn't know you meant him."

"Did he stay the night?"

"No, sir," Henry said, "He left after a few hours."

"Okay . . . anyone else?"

"No, sir," the doorman said. "She hasn't had anyone else upstairs since you left the other morning uh, except for Mr Balducci."

"Did she go out at all since then?"

"Oh, yes sir," Henry said. "I saw her go out yesterday. She did some shopping and came home with a few bags. She stayed in after that at least, as long as I was on duty."

"How many doormen are there, Henry?"

"Three, sir," Henry said, "but only one other Leslie " he said the name with a wry grin " has been on duty since you were here. He worked yesterday afternoon and evening as well as the, uh, evening you arrived."

"I'd like to find out what he knows, Henry," O'Farrell said.

"I could ask him when I see him."

"No," O'Farrell said, "I'd like to find out as soon as possible. Could you call him? There'd be ten in it for him, and a second ten for you."

The promise of twenty bucks sent Henry to the phone to call Leslie. He asked the second doorman the same questions O'Farrell had asked him, and hung up shaking his head.

"Leslie says he never saw anyone go up to Miss Taylor's apartment, and he never saw her leave."

O'Farrell went over it in his head. So she'd only been out once all day Thursday, didn't go out at all anymore on Wednesday when he left her, or any time Friday morning until now. Balducci was the only person seen going up.

"Is there a back door, Henry?"

"Yes, sir," the doorman said. "It's kept locked. Tenants don't use it, and don't have a key. It's access to an alley where we throw out the trash, sometimes take deliveries."

"So you have a key, in case of deliveries."

"Yes, sir."

"Any deliveries since I left here Wednesday morning?"

O'Farrell asked.

"No, sir."

O'Farrell gave Henry the twenty dollars and then took out another twenty.

"Henry, have you got a key to Miss Taylor's apartment?"

"Yes, sir," the doorman said. "Do you think something's happened to her?"

"Let's just say I have a bad feeling."

Henry waved away the second twenty and got the key . . .

"We found her like this," he told McKeever.

"Well, you've got each other to vouch for that," the detective said. "Is there anything you haven't told me?"

There was. He'd left out the part about having s.e.x with his client's girl, and spending the night. He only hoped Henry had left that part out, too.

"No, that's it."

"That pretty much jibes with what the doorman told us. Well, you better scram, Val. The Lieutenant's gonna show up soon and he ain't gonna like it if-"

"Too late," the police officer on the door said.

O'Farrell and McKeever both turned in to see Lieutenant Mike Turico enter the room.

"Well, well," Turico said when he saw O'Farrell. "Guess you musta forgot you ain't a cop no more, O'Farrell."

"h.e.l.lo, Mike."

Turico approached O'Farrell and felt the texture of wide lapel of the private detective's blue pinstriped suit . . .

"Turnin' private musta really paid off for you, Val," he said. He looked down at the matching Fedora O'Farrell was holding.

"I'm doin' okay, Mike," O'Farrell said, "Thanks for askin'."

"Bet the swells really like you in this outfit." He touched O'Farrell's red silk tie, straightening it. Without looking at McKeever he asked, "Who let him in here?"

"He just walked in, boss," the detective said. "You know how Val is."