The Mike Hammer Collection - Mickey Spillane [112]
After he ordered milk and cake I said, “What’s the bit?”
“Look, you had me chasing down Sally Devon’s old friends. Well, I’m up in the office when Pauline Coulter comes in to tell me what she forgot. About a week ago she ran into Annette Lee, who was with Sally when she died.”
“Man, she was old then.”
“She’s older now, but still kicking. Annette Lee used to be a wardrobe mistress in a show Sally worked in and afterwards worked for Sally as sort of personal maid. Now how about that? You think I’ll make a cop yet?”
“Not if you keep flashing that police badge.” I grinned.
“Come on!”
“Okay, it was a joke.” I laughed. “No kidding though . . . this Lee gal might clean up a few things. It’s nice to have friends in important places.”
“Anytime, Mike.” He pulled out a card and scribbled down an address. “Here’s where she is. It’s a rooming house across town. She never goes anywhere so you can always find her home.”
I stuck the card in my pocket. “How about now? You free?”
“Like a bird, man.”
Annette Lee had a front room downstairs in one of the countless brownstones along the street. Her pension money kept her adequately, her cat kept her company, and whatever went on outside her window was enough to keep her busy. She was a small woman, shrunken with age, but in the straight-back rocker, with tiny feet pushing against the floor with tireless rhythm to keep her in motion, she had a funny pixyish quality that was reflected in her faded gray eyes.
There was no telling her accurate age, but it had crept up on her so that her talk wandered into peculiar directions and it was difficult to keep her on one track. But she remembered Sally Devon well. They had been good friends and it was Sally who had taken her in when she was sick and needed an operation, and Sally who cared for her and paid her expenses, so that when Sally needed her, she was glad to go.
She eyed us sharply when I questioned her about Sally’s background, but until she was aware that I knew about her past, was reluctant to talk about it. It was Sally’s earnings in the seamier side of life that paid her expenses and she was grateful. Little by little she gave it to us. Sally had left show business to take up with men, had gotten involved with the wrong ones and found herself in trouble.
Yes, she knew Sim Torrence, and although she didn’t like him, thought he had done well by Sally. He had taken her in when she needed help, and if it hadn’t been for Sally’s drinking the marriage might have been successful. What she thought was that Sally’s guilt complex for bringing a tarnished background into Sim Torrence’s life drove her to alcoholism.
She remembered the night Sally died, too. Outside in the cold. Drunk. It was a shame. She couldn’t revive her. I asked her directly if she thought Sim Torrence had anything to do with Sally’s death.
Annette Lee gave me a shriveling glance. “Don’t be silly,” she said.
“Just clearing up a point,” I told her.
“Then what’s this all about, young man?”
“Sue thinks so.”
“Sally’s little baby?”
“That’s right.”
“Rubbish. She was only a mite.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But she’s pretty insistent about it. One minute she has the idea Torrence was responsible, the next she says it was a snake.”
Annette’s face pulled into a tight expression and for a moment her eyes were less faded-looking. “Snake? Sally used to talk about that. When she was drunk. She kept mentioning the snake. Funny you should bring it up. Never thought it would make an impression on a child. Yes, she used to talk about the snake all right. But no snake killed her. She died right there in the front yard, right in my arms. Like to froze, the poor thing did, all drunk up and sick. Maybe it was for the best though.”
She sat back in the rocker and closed her eyes. Too much talking was wearing her down. I motioned to Joey and we got up. “Well,” I said, “thanks for the talk. Maybe I’ll come back again sometime.”
“Please do.”
We walked to the door as the rhythm of her rocking slowed down. Just as I was about to leave it