The Oxford Book of American Det (40 page)

“Was it an amphibian?”

“Yeah. Land and water. We broke the pontoons and let the crate sink. Then we came down the river in the speedboat. I had left the Brain’s Lincoln by the Fifty-seventh Street pier. We tied up the boat and got in the car. We took the Gordon doll up to the Brain’s place. I came back here to make things look right.”

“Thanks,” I said, “for the interesting lecture.”

FIVE

I took out his rod and cracked him on the skull with it. He went out like a light and sagged to the alley floor. I figured him cold for at least an hour. I ran down the street to a cigar store, stuck a nickel in a telephone and called Dinah Mason.

“Hello?” she said.

“It’s Daffy,” I said.

“Darling,” she said, “what’s happened to you? The Old Man got word that you were being held in connection—“

“Listen, my little rattlesnake,” I said. “I just put the bite on Rigo. You know Rigo—the Brain’s right or left hand. I forget which. Anyway, he opened up and squealed beautifully. Now get this, because I’m on my way. Clare Gordon is being held captive at Mike Cantrey’s penthouse apartment at the Ritz Towers. In case they should bury me before you see me again, tell some one else that pertinent information and write the story along with my obit.”

“Check,” she said. “Be careful, you lunatic. Don’t get killed just when I’ve got you that way about me.”

“I’m not going to try,” I said, “but you never can tell.” I hung up and hooked a cab for uptown. We made the Ritz Towers in nothing flat. I paid off the driver—four bits it was—and I went in. I found out how the Brain got Clare up there without suspicion. He had a private elevator to his place. I said I wanted to see him. They made a call upstairs.

“The answer,” said the desk clerk, “is no. Mr. Cantrey is seeing no one tonight.”

“Tell him,” I said, “it’s about some gambling articles a fellow once wrote.”

“He’ll see you,” the desk clerk said after relaying the kind words. “Take that elevator.” I took it. It was a non-stop at that time of night and we went up so fast I felt as though I’d left my stomach on the first floor. I got out. I didn’t have any plan. I was just planning on inspiration. There were only two of them. I knew that. The Brain didn’t go in for mobs.

I rang the bell. Luke Terk opened the door.

“Hello, rat,” he said.

I went in. He had a gun in his right hand. With the other, as I passed him, he frisked me. He found my Colt and made me take it out. “Drop it on the floor.” I dropped it. I felt sort of empty. I had counted on that gun for a jam. “O.K.,” Luke Terk said then.

“Go on in. One funny move and I give it to you.”

His voice was cold and low. He meant it.

The Brain was sitting in the living room. It was a swanky spot, all furnished modernistic, the way the furniture looks when you wake up with the jitters and a bad hangover. He smiled at me in a self-satisfied way. I had a feeling I was in for it.

“Come to the point,” he said. “Never mind the gambling stories stall.”

“All right,” I said. “You snatched Clare Gordon. The gel’s here. I want her.”

“You want the moon,” said the Brain softly.

“Maybe so,” I said. “But I want her.”

“She ain’t here.”

I laughed nervously. “You’re stalling now, Cantrey. I hopped Rigo in an alley. He squealed.”

“I know,” the Brain said. “You cut him with your knife. Sorta nasty trick, wasn’t it, Daffy?”

I felt icy. “So he came to and called you?”

“Yeah. He’s got a tough skull. Sorta nasty, wasn’t it?”

“Not for a rat like Rigo,” I said. “He had it coming. I don’t like snatchers, Brain.”

“My, my!” Luke Terk exclaimed. “He don’t like snatchers.” His voice went taut.

“Well, I don’t like guys with knives, Dill!”

“He had it coming.”

“And so have you,” said the Brain. “Ever had your teeth burned with matches? Ever had needles stuck through your skin? We do that with welchers, Daffy. I think we’ll stretch a point. Maybe you ain’t a welcher. But you was pretty rough on Rigo. And Rigo is a pal of mine, see?”

“You’re running a sandy,” I said. “You can’t scare me now. Go ahead, torture me.

Then bump me off. The Feds are still after Clare Gordon. They don’t miss out on their cases, Brain.”

“She ain’t here.”

“Sure,” I said, “she’s flew away with a little birdie. Don’t kid me. She’s in the Ritz Towers somewhere. Rigo squealed once. He’ll squeal again.”

“The Feds don’t carve guys’ throats,” snapped Luke Terk.

“Rigo’s O.K.,” said the Brain. “But you’re not, Daffy. You’re washed out. You’ve poked that big nose of yours into trouble this time.”

“Into news,” I said. “A nose for news.”

“You stuck it into a coffin,” said Luke Terk. “Only this time the lid’s on it and you can’t pull out.”

I waited for a second and didn’t say anything. They had the drop on me coming and going and there wasn’t a thing I could do except bluff and stall a little.

“I want Clare Gordon,” I said.

“Nuts,” Luke Terk growled. “O.K., chief?”

The Brain nodded. “O.K., Luke. Give it to him. And make it hurt.” Luke Terk jabbed his gun in my ribs. “Get over to that sofa,” he said. “And lie down.” I started for the sofa. Simultaneously, there was a hell of a racket in the streets below.

We were up some sixteen floors, but we could hear the police sirens as plain as day.

They were screaming and I could hear the cars grinding up to the curb.

The gun in my ribs loosened. Luke Terk tensed and turned.

“Chief,” he snapped. “Bulls! This lug must’ve tipped them off!”

“Take it easy,” the Brain said. “Maybe they’re not for us.”

“They’re for you,” I said. “I tipped them.”

Luke Terk cried: “Chief—what’ll we do with him?”

“Take him along!” the Brain said. “You take him down where the doll is. I’ll stay here and parley with the cops. You—“

Now was the time for all good men to come to the aid of their party. I spun around, swinging with my right. It was a good swing, but I hit without a target, since Luke Terk and his rod were behind me. I heard the Brain yell. I missed Terk’s chin and hit him on the left shoulder.

SIX

The punch hurt my fist. It hit solidly. Luke Terk went down, but I had fired the arm so hard I fell right on top of him. I hit him again as we sprawled. This time I caught him on the beak. It spouted blood. He tried to bring his gun hand up.

The Brain yelled again. Then there was a shot. The bullet went over my back with an angry whine. If you don’t think slugs make noise, you want to get that close to one of them. I shot out my foot and smashed it down on Luke Terk’s hand. Terk yelled with pain and his fingers shot open. The gun dropped to the rug.

Another shot from the Brain. The rug in front of Terk’s head jumped as the slug dug into the floor.

“For God’s sake, chief!” Terk screamed. “Go easy!”

I dove for the gun Terk had dropped, keeping low and not giving a damn whether the Brain hit me or not. I got into the spirit of the thing. I reached the gun, picked it up. I wheeled on my belly, firing twice. The slugs never went near the Brain, but they scared him. He let go another wild shot at me that missed by feet and then tore out of the room into the hall. I could hear the front door slam.

Luke Terk was struggling to his feet. On my knees, I covered him with the gun. He was reaching into his coat pocket.

“Cut it!” I snapped.

He must have figured that I was bluffing. He kept right on into his pocket. I saw his hand come out. He had the .32 pistol in it, the rod he had taken from me in the entrance hall when he frisked me.

“Cut it,” I snapped again.

He raised it for a shot. I yanked the trigger of his own gun. It jumped in my hand. It made an awful racket. He fell over backwards as though I had hit him with a sledge-hammer. The .32 flew up into the air and smacked a picture on the wall, knocking the glass pane to bits.

I got to my feet and looked at him. There was a hole in his right lung. His chest was bleeding. He was conscious, his eyes were open and his lips kept moving as though he were trying to say something. Nothing came out. He’d live. Sawbones can fix up wounds like that one.

I stepped over him and started for the entrance hall. At the same time the front door burst open. I turned around and ran for the bedroom, the gun still in my hand. The window there was open. I shut the window after me and started down the fire escape.

I knew if the police caught me there with Luke Terk wounded and no Clare Gordon to show for it I would be in a worse jam than ever. I had to get the Brain and the gel.

I went down two floors on the fire escape when I heard the window of the Brain’s bedroom open. I hugged the wall of the building and stopped moving. Then I heard him say: “No one down there,” and he closed the window again. It was Captain Shane.

I took a breather and wondered what in hell to do. I was marooned on the fire escape.

The only chance I had of getting off it and trailing the Brain was by going through a window, into an apartment, and then out into the hall and down, dodging cops all the way. It was a small chance, but the only one. And it wouldn’t do to have Luke’s gun on me.

Glancing down into the street, I saw it was pretty deserted. This was the side of the hotel, not the front where the cops were. I heaved the gun out and away. I could hear it hit, just dully.

I tried the window in front of me. It was locked. Swearing softly, I went down another flight of the fire escape and tried the next one. It was unlocked. I opened it softly. The shade was down. It was dark green. I pushed it aside and stepped into the room. The lights were out. It was dark as hell. I stood there for a few seconds, trying to adjust my eyes. There wasn’t a sound in the room. But in the one adjoining I could hear some one walking around. I started across the room. A floor board creaked. I stopped, stiffened.

Suddenly I gasped. The bed in the room was squealing loudly as some one moved on the springs.

“Take it easy,” I whispered. “I’m a friend. I won’t hurt you.” I felt like a fool, but what else was there to say under circumstances like that?

The bed squeaked more and more. Some one was bouncing up and down on it. I had a hunch. I walked over to it and struck a match.

Just like I thought. There lay Clare Gordon...

She was bound with thick adhesive tape both on her ankles and her arms. Her hands were spread out flat against each other and taped. There was a wad of tape across her mouth. Two ropes stretched across her body and under the bed prevented her from rolling off.

She looked at me pleadingly. The match went out. I lighted another and went to work on the tape over her mouth, motioning her to keep quiet when she could speak. I pulled off the tape. They had stuck a lemon in her mouth. I took it out. The first thing she said was: “Judas Priest! I’m nearly dead!”

“Shh,” I said.

I took off the rest of the tape and she sat up. She had to rub her legs to bring back the circulation. I said: “Well, you sure did it.”

“Thank you, my fran,” she said, grinning. She had what it takes. You couldn’t keep her down. “They jumped me. They must have overheard me at the Hot Spot yesterday.

Just when I was taking off they jumped me and flew off with me in the plane. Landed the plane in some river. Then a speedboat. Finally a car. Then here.”

“Were you upstairs first?” I asked.

“Uh-huh. But somebody named Rigo telephoned and that oyster, Luke Terk, took me down here for safety. Thanks for saving me. It was good fun while it lasted, but I was getting stiff. How’s your job? Get it back yet?”

“Listen, hare-brain,” I said, “you’re not saved yet. In the next room there’s a mug with a gun and he’s just aching to kill me.”

“What are you going to do then?” she asked.

I shrugged ruefully. “I don’t know. I haven’t a rod. Damn it!” I sat down on the bed a second. “Guess we’d better go up by the fire escape. The cops are up there.”

“That’s safe and sound,” she said. “Only you sound disappointed.”

“I am. I’d like to get the Brain myself. It’d make a better news story for the Chronicle.”

“Then get him. Pick up a chair or something. Get behind the door. I’ll yell help or something. He’ll come in.”

“Wahoo,” I said, “that’s an idea.” Picking up a brass candlestick from the mantel, I went over behind the door. “Let go in your best soprano,” I said, “but make it muffled, like your gag has worked off.”

“Help! Help! Save me!” she half moaned.

Next door there was a strident curse. Heavy footsteps pounded across the floor. The door flew open.

“Shut your mouth, damn you,” the Brain greeted, “or I’ll cook you right now!” Clare had nerve. She repeated, “Help! Help!”

He came in. There was a gun in his hand. The light from the other room fell square on his head. It was all I needed. I brought the candlestick down with a swish. He half turned, firing his gun just once. Then he flopped over cold and pieces of plaster from the ceiling caromed onto my hat. I snapped on the lights.

“My hero,” Clare grinned.

“My God!” I sighed, sitting down. “What a night...” I paused, a brilliant thought pervading my struggling mind. “Listen, heiress,” I said, “your old man had me arrested.

Now I saved your brother five grand, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“Do you think, then, your old man would have any objections to a five grand pay-off out of court?”

“Out of court?”

“Sure, instead of defending himself against my suit for false arrest.”

“Daffy Dill!” she exclaimed, laughing, “it’s a lulu. It’ll do my heart good to see him sign your check!”

The door was being knocked down. I let them knock it. I was too tired, and cops have nervous trigger fingers anyway. In a few seconds Captain Shane, the two Feds, and half the police force came in.

“There’s your package,” I said. “And here’s the wrapper-upper.” Captain Shane grinned. “That cleans you, Daffy. Thanks. Your better-half called me up after your tip-off.”

“Did you hear the shot in here?”

“Yeah. That’s what brought us in.”

I sighed. “Where’s a telephone?”

“Wait a second,” said Shane. “What in hell happened? Spill it.”