The Silver Cobweb Read online

  “Why didn’t the cop grab them?”

  “He didn’t recognize Swenke at the time.”

  “He could have picked up Hozak.”

  “For what? Hozak was out on bail at the time for another robbery. Anyway, now the brass think there’s a tie-in between Swenke and Hozak on the Newburyport bank job. There’s a fourteen-state GA out on Hozak. They think Hozak could have been the one who was wounded by the cop and he may be hiding out in the Ipswich area. If he is, that gives Swenke a good reason for hiring the truck. He was going to transport Hozak in it.”

  “I don’t know if that’s such big news,” I said. “They were working along those lines anyway.”

  “But this is stronger confirmation of it,” Ludwell said.

  “What are they getting out of Swenke?”

  “A lot of injured innocence.”

  I went to the closet for my blue breeches. I was knotting my black silk tie in front of the mirror when Ludwell finished polishing his holster.

  He said, “Have you seen the captain yet?”

  “No,” I said, turning around. “Did he want to see me?”

  “Yes,” Ludwell said. “He’s waiting to talk to you. I thought you saw him on the way in. He was in the dining room.”

  I fastened the silver tie clip with the state shield on it. “You have any idea what it’s about?”

  “No. Must be the Fedder case. You haven’t done anything wrong, have you?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “But in this job you never know.”

  He was waiting for me in the dining room. When I walked in Captain Dondera handed me a letter and said, simply, “Read this, Lindsey.”

  I looked at the envelope. It was postmarked Dorset and addressed to Commanding Officer, Topsfield Barracks, State Police, Topsfield, Mass.

  I opened the flap and took out a single sheet of cheap note-paper. There was no date. The letter was typed. It read:

  Dear Sir:

  I must report some disgraceful conduct on the part of one of your troopers. The other night at midnight I observed this trooper leaving a State Police blue cruiser and entering the Red Wheel in Dorset. When he came out he was leading a drunken teen-age boy to a Cadillac sedan. The boy was so badly under the influence of liquor that he had to be put into the back seat of the car. I think it’s a terrible thing when one of your men, who has probably received a bribe, will cover up the fact that the Red Wheel is serving liquor to minors. I am sure you will take quick and drastic action.

  Patriotic Observer

  I refolded the notepaper, put it carefully back into the envelope and handed it back to Captain Dondera.

  “Sit down, Lindsey,” he said.

  I sat down, facing him across the table.

  Dondera said, “It’s a lousy letter for us to get.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “But it’s not the whole truth, Captain. I wish I knew who’s accusing me of—”

  “We’ve checked with Corporal Kerrigan,” Dondera interrupted. “We know the real story. But that doesn’t mean you used sound judgment that night. If I’d been the trooper I would have brought this boy in and tossed him in a cell.”

  “That was explained to me.”

  “I’m glad it was. On your own responsibility you made the decision. It’s done with, Lindsey. But you’ll have to make similar decisions time and time again. When to make a pinch and when not to make a pinch. I don’t like to see a man arrest-happy. But, on the other hand, I don’t want him to be timid, either.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “An anonymous letter like this harms the prestige we’ve built up through the years. We don’t like to get them. Yet, these kind of tips are very important to us. Without informants the police would get nowhere. Lots of times it’s the only way we have of knowing of any wrongdoing.”

  “I understand, Captain.”

  “Some information is worthless, malicious, or deliberate grudge stuff. What this one is I don’t know. It’s either an honest mistake on somebody’s part, or somebody is out to get you. Do you know?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You’ve been here about a week. Have you had trouble with anybody?”

  “No, sir.”

  “How about traffic violations?”

  “I booked about eight or nine. Ludwell did the rest.”

  “You have any trouble with any of them?”

  “No, Captain.”

  “How about Swenke? Didn’t he threaten you or something?”

  “No, Captain. He said he’d remember my name. I don’t know if it was a threat or not. It might have been only conversation.”

  “And it might not,” Dondera said. “Of course, Swenke himself couldn’t have written the letter. He’s in jail and his mail is censored. Also, it’s too well written. But I’m wondering if he has a friend or two in Dorset. That’s what bothers me. I’d hate to think that any of his pals are running around loose in this area.” He put the letter into his pocket. “That’ll be all, Lindsey. I’ll have the case sergeant look into it before we decide what action to take with you. Meanwhile you’ll write a full report on it. And I wouldn’t mention it to anybody. Not even our own boys.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  I went out on patrol that evening with Keith Ludwell. As we drove down U.S. 1 in Cruiser 29, he asked, “Everything all right?”

  “Fine,” I said, although I knew it wasn’t fine. I had made a mistake in judgment. I would be disciplined for it and it would go on my record.

  “You been seeing Miss Bell?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said, turning to him curiously. “How did you know, Keith?”

  “Dorset’s a small town, Ralph. It’s like living in a goldfish bowl.”

  “I’m beginning to realize that.”

  It had started to rain and I didn’t like it. Rain meant slippery roads, and wet, slippery roads meant accidents. Blobs of big raindrops were hitting the windshield and Ludwell set the windshield wipers moving. Not looking at me, but watching the road, he said, “I never thought you’d end up by making a date with the girl.”

  I grinned. “I’ve got a habit of working fast.”

  He frowned. He was always frowning and pulling his eyebrows down. I don’t remember ever seeing him smile. He said, “Well, that’s your business, Ralph. But I myself wouldn’t get mixed up with that kind of stuff.”

  “Why not? I don’t see anything wrong with it. She’s a nice girl. And why is it that I’ve been picked up on every single thing I do?”

  “Who’s picking on you? Not me.”

  “I’ve been in Topsfield a week and I’ve been constantly wrong. In everything. Even the Westlake kid is sore at me for not killing Swenke. And what anybody misses, you pick up, Keith.”

  “I’m senior man to you, Ralph. It’s my job and responsibility to finish training you and set you off on the right road. It’s for your own good, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, I guess so,” I said, thinking it was no use, you couldn’t penetrate Ludwell’s hard shell. “I’m sorry I blew my stack, Keith.”

  “It’s okay, I know how it is. For a kid who’s been in the troops only four months you came here with a big reputation. Sometimes that’s no good. It gives a man a big head. You have a lot to learn yet. I’d say you’ve been damn lucky. You have an in with the brass. Your father is an ex-trooper and left quite a name with the outfit. Naturally, when a good assignment came up, they gave you a break.”

  That was one thing that was always hinted to me. My father’s influence with GHQ and Detective-Lieutenant Newpole. The truth was I had only worked on two special assignments and it was only the first one that had anything to do with my father.

  “You see what I mean, don’t you?” Ludwell was saying. “You came here with a big jump over the others. The rest of us have to do it the hard way. I’ve got almost three enlistments in and I haven’t made stripes yet.”

  “You’re on only six years,” I said. “You’re young yet.”

  “I’m twen
ty-eight.”

  “You’re due pretty soon. And don’t think I’ve got such a big jump. I’ve been in the doghouse as much as anybody.”

  “One thing about me,” Ludwell said, “I’ve never been in the doghouse. I’ve worked hard and stuck to the job. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t make corporal this year. My monthly activity report is good. I’m senior trooper here. Before you came I was getting more desk work than any of the others. Then they put you on with me. That gave me more patrol work.”

  “I’m sorry if I’m the cause of any—”

  “Oh, no,” he said quickly. “I don t mind at all. If I can make a good trooper out of you it’ll show on my record at GHQ. I weigh everything I do. That’s why, some day, I’m going to be captain and command this troop.”

  “I think you will at that,” I said.

  “If I watch myself and don’t make any mistakes.”

  “You’re not the type who makes mistakes, Keith.”

  “The main idea is not to worry about money. Money worries affect your work. That’s why marriage would be a mistake now. Rank means money, so you don’t saddle yourself with a wife and kids until you have some rank. Simple? And that’s why a trooper has to make the right marriage. The type of wife is important, too. Some girl with a good family and important political background.”

  The windshield wipers were clicking like a metronome. I said, “You mean a wife with political influence.”

  “That’s the general idea. A wife with connections does no harm.”

  “So that wouldn’t include any waitresses,” I said.

  His eyebrows came down and that frown showed on his face. “You mean the girl at the Dorset Diner. Her name’s Marsha Gordioni and I don’t see her for dust.”

  “She doesn’t think so, Keith. I’ve seen the look in her eyes.”

  “Well, that’s her business.”

  “Do you think it’s fair?”

  He looked at me, surprised. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t see you discouraging it.”

  “Listen, Ralph, on this job you have to pay attention to small details. A cop is as good as the information he’s able to get. Marsha gives me a lot of tips in this area. I have others in different sections. That’s why I’m nice to everybody. It pays off. One thing to remember is this. The uniform you’re wearing pulls a lot of weight. You can get a lot of stuff other cops can’t get. That’s because people have respect and confidence in you.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t been getting much of either.”

  “It’s because you look kind of young. That’s a little handicap. But here’s what I want to bring out. Don’t get yourself mixed up with the wrong kind of dames. I’ve seen troopers get the heave-ho on account of it.”

  I think he would have continued to lecture me, but just then we got a Signal 16 that there was a bad car accident on U.S. 1 in Newburyport.

  12

  BECAUSE OF THE DISTANCE WE ARRIVED AT THE SCENE AFTER A cruiser from our Salisbury Beach substation was already there. The accident car, a glossy new Plymouth, had gone off the road and wrapped itself around a tree. The two Salisbury troopers were putting a man in a sailor uniform into a stretcher, getting ready to transport him to the Anna Jaques Hospital in Newburyport.

  “You handle the witnesses,” Ludwell said to me. “It’s good experience for you.”

  I put on my pale blue raincoat while Ludwell went up the road, set a flare in the ground and got the traffic unsnarled. We had frequent accidents of this type. Servicemen who had short leaves would try to make Philadelphia or Washington or Ohio, spend two days there and return, all in three days. Many times they were so tired from the hypnosis of constant high-speed driving that they would fall asleep at the wheel.

  The Salisbury cruiser, siren growling, sped away from the scene. In it was the stretcher installed lengthwise across the back and front seats, with one of the troopers sitting in back at the victim’s head.

  I went to work, talking to witnesses, writing pages in my book, resigned to the fact that I would have many hours of reports later. I was just about finished when I saw a newspaper car stop up the road where Ludwell stood, wearing his white cross straps and holding his flashlight. He walked toward the wreck with a news photographer, explaining the accident to him in his sincere, polite, public-relations manner. Then, as the photographer began flashing pictures, he took two of Ludwell, who stood there, his face serious and stern, the rain slanting against him and glistening on the silver buttons of his raincoat.

  After the tow truck came for the wreck, we cleared the area and went back on patrol. We would contact the Salisbury troopers later to complete the investigation.

  “Don’t ride me about the pictures,” Ludwell said. “You know how those news photographers are. They grab the first cop they see and take his picture. It doesn’t mean a thing.”

  That was what he said to me. I don’t think he meant anything of the kind. I had an idea that pictures, any news pictures, were important to Ludwell. They would be seen by the brass at GHQ and remembered. When the promotion list came up with Ludwell on it, the brass would be more familiar with him. Publicity would never do Ludwell any harm.

  At midnight we drove into Dorset and parked in front of the diner. The sky was heavy with clouds but the storm had passed. I saw the polishing cloth come out of Ludwell’s pocket. He wiped his boots and belts, brushed his uniform carefully, set his cap exactly right and went inside. The waitress, Marsha Gordioni, ran over to him as he made for his booth. There was a lot of animated conversation after she brought him his food. The counterman came over and talked, too. One truck driver, a toothpick sticking from the corner of his mouth, joined the group, leaning into the booth and offering an occasional comment.

  I sat in the cruiser, looking over at The Red Wheel and wondering what Amy Bell was doing. Fifteen minutes later, Ludwell came out of the diner and it was my turn to go in.

  I stood just inside the door, sniffing the aroma of fresh coffee. The waitress came up, smiled and pointed to the booth Ludwell had vacated. I studied her as she set down a glass of water and handed me a plastic-covered menu. She was a tall, well-rounded girl with coiled hair too blonde to be natural. She had a curved, red, wet mouth and damp, doglike brown eyes. She said, “You’re the new trooper Keith is training. Ralph Lindsey?”

  “That’s me.” I smiled up at her. “I’m what they call a boot.”

  “What do you think of Keith?” she asked. “Don’t you think he’s just wonderful?”

  “I sure do,” I said. “I’ll have a ham sandwich on rye, coffee and apple pie.”

  She wrote the order impatiently on a slip. “You’re lucky to have Keith training you. I think he’s the most terrific trooper I’ve ever seen.”

  She went away. I smoked a cigarette and waited. When she came back with my order, she sat down opposite me. Her eyebrows arched as I began to eat. I started to feel uncomfortable. Anyone does when somebody stares at them while they are eating.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Am I using the wrong fork?”

  “Oh, no,” she said. “I was thinking you’re awfully young.”

  “I’m twenty-three.”

  “Are you? You don’t look twenty-three. I wouldn’t take you for more than nineteen or twenty.”

  “I’ve been voting for two years. Doesn’t that make me an adult citizen?”

  “I don’t think you’re going to be all grown up until Keith finishes with you. He’ll teach you a lot. Keith has broken a lot of cases around here. It surprises me he isn’t a sergeant, or even a lieutenant. Do you think politics or jealousy has anything to do with it?”

  “It all takes time,” I said. “He’s young yet. But don’t worry, he’ll get there.”

  “Oh, I know that,” she said. “How do you like the Topsfield Barracks?”

  “Fine.”

  “You just do everything Keith tells you and you won’t go wrong.” She examined her silver-lacquered fingernails.
Then, “Does Keith ever say anything about me?”

  “Oh, yes,” I said, my mouth full of the sandwich. “He’s spoken of you.”

  “He has? What did he say?”

  “All nice things,” I said, chewing and swallowing.

  “Exactly what?”

  I swallowed again. “I don’t recall the exact words, but they were all nice things.”

  She looked around, then lowered her voice. “I go out with Keith. Keep it confidential because he doesn’t like it to be known around here. He said it wouldn’t look right because he eats here and people would think he gets a handout. But he doesn’t. He pays for every single thing. Out of his own pocket.”

  I nodded and took another bite out of the sandwich. Her last sentence wasn’t exactly true. Keith didn’t pay for the food out of his own pocket. Every trooper got a dollar from the barracks for his midnight snack.

  “I’ve been married,” she said, “and I have a little daughter. My husband and I were divorced and I live with my mother in Rowley. Keith and I, when we go out, go to some quiet place and have a few beers. I don’t go out with any other men.” Her hands were moving nervously on the table and I was beginning to feel sorry for her. She said, almost wistfully, “Do you know if Keith goes out with other girls?”

  I couldn’t talk at the moment because I was chewing another mouthful of food. But she didn’t wait for an answer. A laugh came out of her, a little, unsure laugh. She said, “I don’t want Keith to think I’m pressing him. You know what I mean. A man doesn’t like to be pressed.”

  “Sure,” I said, swallowing. “I don’t know if he sees any other girls. He never discussed his private life with me, Marsha.”

  Her mouth made an O. “How did you know my name?”

  “Keith told me.”

  Her eyes glistened. “If he told you my name, I think it means something, don’t you? Otherwise he wouldn’t mention my name to you.”

  I sipped my coffee and cut into the apple pie, hurrying it so that I could get away from the cloying atmosphere as quickly as I could. I was becoming a little bitter at Ludwell.