RGL e-Book Cover©
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
Go to Home Page
This work is out of copyright in countries with a copyright
period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
Original content added by RGL (e.g., introductions, notes,
RGL covers) is proprietary and protected by copyright.
RGL e-Book Cover©
"G-Man at the Yard,"
Poynings Press Limited, London, 1946
AN' I was nearly asleep.
I am snoozin' off in the corner seat of the dinin'-saloon somewhere this side of Southampton. I am plenty tired from the night before, because I'm tellin' you that end-of-the-voyage parties can be tough. I have been listenin' to the two guys at the table on the other side of the saloon talkin' about English history, an' one of these palookas is sayin' that George the Fourth was the first gentleman in Europe. I remember thinkin' that this crack makes Alfred the Great and William the Conqueror just a coupla bums, an' as I am thinking this I start to drop off.
Just then the train decides to pull up with a bump, an' I jerk back against the side of the saloon an' sit up. Just as I get my lamps open he goes past, walkin' down the gangway between the tables, grinnin' all over his lousy mug. I hadta take a pull at myself an' wake up to the fact that I am in a train somewhere near Southampton, England, an' that I am not back in Chicago with the Luger in my hand down the bottom of Marpella Alley, waitin' to blast this punk down when he came outa the warehouse opposite, which was what happened the last time I saw this guy. Only he didn't come out.
I get up an' go after him. He gets outa the dinin' saloon and starts walkin' down the corridor. I can hear him hummin' to himself.
He eases into a first-class carriage, an' parks himself in the corner. There ain't nobody else in the carriage. I pull open the door an' step in.
"Hey, Squilla," I say, nice an' quiet.
He looks up. "Say, what the hell!" he says. "Who are you, an' what's your trouble?"
He sits there grinnin' like a mangy cat. It's like his gall, makin' out he don't know me.
"Oh, just nothin' Squilla," I say. "You wouldn't know me, wouldya? You never heard of me, didya? My name's Caution—Lemmy Caution—an' you never heard of a G-man with that monniker, didya? You cheap, lousy, double-crossin', two-timin' heel. I suppose you got outa New York because of that McConnigle bump-off, hey? An' who sent you? Who gave you the dough to break outa there with? Come on, spill it, before I get sorta annoyed, an' bust you in the pan."
I sit down an' light a cigarette. I look at the punk through the flame of the lighter. The boy has got his nerve back. He is rememberin' that this is England.
"Hey.... hey...." he says. "Well, now, if it ain't the littly fly-cop, Lemmy Caution."
He takes off his fedora, an' makes a big bow.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he says, "allow me to present to you the big ace G-man, Mr. Lemmy Caution, the guy with the big Federal badge an' a face like the rear end of a milk delivery truck. An', ladies an' gentlemen," he goes on, "you ain't meeting any ordinary guy either. You're meeting the biggest flatfoot that ever got so clever that he double-crossed himself."
He turns off the act an' his face goes serious. I reckon this Squilla has got the lousiest mug I have ever seen in a long experience.
"Listen, punk copper," he says. "Why the hell don't you sneeze an' get your brains clear? Get me? Ain't they told you that this is England? Ain't they told you that you got as much chance to come bustin' in here an' pullin' your big acts as a rabbit has of gettin' inta Ma Jelks' faro game in Oklahoma City?"
He spits outa the window, "You scram, Caution," he says. "Otherwise I'm gonna ring for the steward to chuck you right outa here. You make me sick. In the States maybe you're the big noise; maybe your mother thinks you're good, but over here you're just a big backfire an' a cheap flivver. An' you can get to hell outa here good an' quick an' close the door nice an' quiet behind you. Fade out, flatfoot."
I grin at him. "You got it nice an' pat, ain't you, Squilla." I tell him. "Well, O.K. Maybe this is England, and maybe, a Federal badge don't mean anything around here, but I reckon you know me well enough for me to tell you that when I wantya to talk you're going to talk—an' like it.
"But maybe I'll stick around an' wait for a bit. In the meanwhiles just because you think you can pull that fast stuff on me, I'm going to bust you in the puss just once; an' you won't even ring for the steward—an' I'll tell why you won't.
"You're Squilla. You been carryin' a gun for the mob that's been workin' for Bugs Francelli for the last eight months. You was the guy who bumped McConnigle, but we hadn't got enough on you to make you fry for it. O.K. Well, I reckon the passport you come over here on ain't in your name. I reckon you got somebody to fix you one.
"Do you get me? I bust you in the puss, an' if you start any funny business with stewards then I say that you are a crook, an' make you ante up your passport. Then I tell 'em it's a phoney one, an' then you haveta do a lot of explaining, see?"
I walk over to him an' get my hands on his coat collar, an' I jerk him up an' bust him one on the kisser that makes his head wobble. Then I chuck him down on the seat an' scram.
Me—I never did like that Squilla.
I go back to the dinin'-saloon an' park myself an' con over this business. This is a funny break—me seein' Squilla, I mean. I wonder what the hell this punk is doin' over here, an' I wonder if it is just one of them coincidences that he is on the same train as me. Life can be durn funny. You're tellin' me!
I call the steward, an' ask him when the train stops. He says Basingstoke. He says it stops there for five minutes. I say O.K. an' I get up an' walk down along the train until I find the guard's van. The guard is a nice guy, an' he ain't even surprised when I ask him to send a wire for me over the railway telegraph at Basingstoke an' to keep nice an' quiet about it. I write it down for him:
TO CHIEF DETECTIVE-INSPECTOR HERRICK, CRIMINAL INVESTIGATION DEPARTMENT, NEW SCOTLAND YARD, LONDON.
URGENT.
RAILWAY GUARD DESPATCHING THIS TO YOU FROM BASINGSTOKE STOP THIS TRAIN DUE ARRIVE WATERLOO SIX-FIFTEEN STOP ENRICO SQUILLA, TOP GUNMAN FOR ONE OF THE BUGS FRANCELLI MOBS IS ABOARD STOP DESCRIPTION SHORT WIRY WEIGHT ABOUT ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-FOUR POUNDS BLUE EYES CLOSE TOGETHER CURLY BLACK HAIR BULLET SCAR ACROSS RIGHT FOREARM STOP WEARING FLASH LIGHT-GREY SUIT BROWN LEATHER AND BUCKSKIN SHOES GREY SOCKS STRIPED BLUE AND RED SILK SHIRT BLUE AND WHITE TIE DIAMOND AND RUBY PIN STOP SUGGEST YOU PUT A TAIL ON THIS GUY WHEN HE ARRIVES POSSIBLE CONNECTION BETWEEN SQUILLA AND MY ENQUIRIES ON THIS SIDE STOP SHALL MOVE ON ARRIVAL STOP CAN YOU CHECK RIGHT NOW THROUGH U.S. EMBASSY PASSPORT OFFICE PRESENT LOCATION OF RICKY VANDELLIN, ESMERALDA VANDELLIN AND MERALINE CRANE AND HAVE OPERATIVE MEET ME AT WATERLOO WITH THIS INFORMATION STOP SUGGEST YOU PERSONALLY CONTACT ME MY ROOMS DE VERE APARTMENTS KNIGHTSBRIDGE TEN O'CLOCK TONIGHT DISCUSS CO-OPERATION STOP THANKS A LOT
LEMUEL H. CAUTION.
After which I scram back to the saloon an' go to sleep, which is a thing that I am very fond of.
I wake up when the train is runnin' into Waterloo Station. I grab my suitcase off the rack an' ease along to the compartment door, where I can look out. I stay there after the train has stopped, lampin' along the platform lookin' for Squilla.
After a bit I see him. He is walkin' towards the barrier carryin' a flashy fawn kid travellin' bag. I watch him go through the gate, and then I get outa the train an' ease along the platform myself.
Outside the barrier a guy comes up to me an' asks if I am Lemmy Caution. I tell him yes, an' he gives me a letter. I tear it open. It is from Herrick. I read it:
Dear Lemmy,
You don't waste much time, do you? Well, here's your information. I got through to the U.S. Embassy immediately I received your wire. Esmeralda Vandellin is staying with Meraline Crane—who is a distant cousin—at the Carlton. Ricky Vandellin has got a flat—an apartment to you—at the Blenheim Arms, No. 765, Park Street.
I have put an intelligent man on the trail of Enrico Squilla, and I shall be at your flat at the De Vere apartments in Knightsbridge at ten to ten-thirty to-night.
What is all the excitement about? The Commissioner here had a request through the Home Office from the U.S. Embassy for us to co-operate with you on some 'enquiries' you are making on this side. As I had worked with you on the Poison Ivy case he handed the job to me—and I'm damned curious to know what it's all about.
Till tonight,
Yours ever,
John Herrick,
Chief Detective-Inspector, C.I.D.
I stick the letter in my pocket, an' after fixin' for my bags to be sent on after me I grab a cab an' make for the dump in Knightsbridge, where I am goin' to stay. I reckon I ain't goin' to waste any time over gettin' busy on this Vandellin bezusus because I reckon that seein' Squilla on the train has sorta gipped me up.
I am also durn glad that John Herrick has got a tail on this guy, an' pretty soon you'll see I am right to be pleased.
In twenty minutes I am at the De Vere apartments. I check in, give myself a shower, an' when my bags come I change into a tuxedo. Then I go down to the restaurant and give myself dinner.
While I'm eatin' it I get to wonderin' about this job. I get to wonderin' what Ricky an' Esmeralda Vandellin wanted to bust outa New York for the way they did an' come over here. But I reckon I know the answer. I reckon the dame was frightened. An' wouldn't you be? I reckon this jane Esmeralda was a lucky one to get away from the mob that snatched her. There ain't many girls would have had the nerve to do it, an' I reckon when she did get away the reaction sorta set in. Maybe the old man thought it would be a swell idea for her to come over here.
While I am smokin' my cigarette I get around to thinkin' about this dame. Esmeralda Vandellin is one swell name, but I have found out in my experience that when a dame has a pretty name she is just as likely to be as ugly as a polecat. I am also thinkin' that I am liable to get tough with her anyway, just for scrammin' outa New York right at the time I was supposed to get a statement from her on the snatch. Then I reckon thinkin' never got any guy any place, so I scram.
I pay off the cab outside the Pall Mall entrance to the Carlton Hotel, an' I go in. Just when I get into the doorway some dame comes outa the lift with a guy. Boy, is she a looker, or is she? I reckon that I've seen plenty dames in my time who was easy to lamp, but this one is the answer to the travellin' salesman's prayer.
She is tall, an' she has the sorta curves that would make a tired business man start askin' his lawyer friend how much a divorce suit costs. She is an ash-blonde, an' when I say she is an ash-blonde I mean to say she is a natural one. That dame never got near no peroxide bottle. I reckon that hair was just a gift from the fairies, an' she has sorta turquoise-blue eyes that would even hit a woman-hater for a home run.
Trailin' behind her is a big guy in evenin' clothes. He is a broad-shouldered, regular-lookin' feller, an' he has an air of sorta knowin' all the answers. He trails along behind the dame with a confident look on his pan that makes me wanta stick a four-inch nail inta him.
I am just walkin' over to the reception when the dame speaks to the clerk. She asks him if there is any mail for her, an' he says: "No, there ain't any, Miss Vandellin."
So this is the dame. This is Esmeralda!
I breathe a big sigh because I'm tellin' you that when you've come about four an' a half thousand miles just to ask a dame some questions—well, I reckon she might as well be easy to look at as otherwise.
I walk right across and take off my fedora. "Hey, Miss Vandellin," I say, "I'm sorry to crash in just when it looks like you're goin' out, but there's one or two little things I wanta talk to you about." I slip my badge out in its case, open the case an' show it to her so's nobody else can see it. "My name's Caution," I tell her, "Lemmy Caution, Special Agent Federal Bureau of Investigation, U.S. Department of Justice."
She looks at the guy, an' she gives a little shrug— sorta bored. He grins back at her.
"Well, Mr. Caution," she says, "I can't even say Tin glad to see you, and we certainly didn't think that the Federal Authorities would go to the trouble of sending an agent all the way over here to ask silly questions, especially now that I'm safe. Isn't that what the English call 'locking the stable door after I he horse has gone'? And I hate answering questions, Mr. Caution. I've come a long way to avoid them. Also, as much as I would like to help you, there isn't anything I can tell you. You couldn't expect me to see much when the gang who kidnapped me was careful to put a bag over my head first, could you?"
I grin, "That's as maybe, lady," I say, "but I'd still like to ask you some questions, an' I reckon that I'd like to ask 'em as soon as possible. I ain't got any time to waste. I'm due back in New York as soon as I'm through with this job."
The big guy cuts in. "Mr. Caution," he says, "Miss Vandellin has said that she doesn't want to answer any questions, and I'm afraid that even your Federal badge doesn't amount to much in England, you know. Don't you think you'd better leave this matter? Right now Miss Vandellin is going out, and I don't think that I admire your taste in stopping her here in the vestibule of the hotel. I—"
"Nuts," I tell him. "I wasn't talkin' to you, was I? Another thing," I go on, "even if my Federal badge ain't very much good around here I reckon that I still got a very sweet short arm jab for guys who try to get fresh.
"Also, although you may be in England now, you've got to go back to the United States some time. O.K. Well, there'll be lots of time then for bringin' a charge of obstructin' a United States Officer, so take it easy, feller, an' don't get fresh."
She puts her hand on his arm. "Don't bother, Havley." She turns around to me. "Listen, Mr. Caution," she says, "I expect that you're right and I'm wrong. But I do want to go out now and there's very little I can tell you. But if you'll go along upstairs to my suite you'll find Miss Meraline Crane, and she'll be able to tell you lots. She knows much more about it than I do. Also you'll find my brother Ricky up there, and maybe he can help too. Good-night, Mr. Caution."
She turns an' walks off, an' the big guy goes with her. I stand there lookin' after 'em. She is dressed in a tight-fittin' black gown covered with black spangles, an' I reckon that I have never seen such an eyeful in my life. This Esmeralda is sure some dame. An' she has got me so annoyed that I could smack her.
I get in the lift an' I go up. A bell-boy shows me along to a suite, an' knocks at the door. After a minute he opens it an' I go in. I am in the sittin'-room of a helluva big suite, an' standin' in front of the fireplace, lookin' at me, is another dame that makes me catch my breath. I told you that Esmeralda was a honey, an' I am also tellin' you that this Meraline Crane is another one. She has got everything, an' that's sayin' something.
Parked in a chair on the other side of the fireplace, that is filled up with flowers, is a guy in a tuxedo. I reckon this is Ricky Vandellin. He is twiddlin' a glass of Martini in his fingers an' he looks as if he has been on the liquor for days. His eyes are sunk in, with big shadows underneath 'em. His face is thin, an' the lingers that are holdin' the glass are tremblin'. If ever I saw a dope this palooka is one. He is a guy of about twenty-six tryin' to look as if he was fifty—an' succeedin' very well.
Meraline speaks to the bell-boy. "Miss Vandellin has left her bag behind," she says. "Has she gone?"
The bell-boy tells her yes, an' she says it don't matter. Then he scrams an' she turns towards me with a sorta enquirin' look in her eyes.
I say my piece once more. I tell her who I am an' what I want, an' that Esmeralda has sent me up to talk to her. While I am sayin' this spiel I see Ricky lookin' at me like I was a worm or somethin'. I reckon somehow that he don't like coppers.
When I finish he starts laughin'. "That's pretty good," he says. "Can you beat it? The Federal Government send a cop all the way over here to ask questions after the kidnappin' is all over, and nobody's hurt."
He gets up, an' stands there swayin' backwards an' forwards. "It's a hell of a pity that the Government didn't act before my sister was kidnapped," he goes on. "They knew very well that an attempt was to be made, and they couldn't take proper precautions and prevent it. Then, when it's all over, they send some roughneck over here after her to ask a lot of fool questions. Well, if she takes my advice she'll stay dumb. She wants to forget it, and why shouldn't she?"
He takes a step forward. "And don't think I'm just being tough either," he says. "Esmeralda got away from the mob who snatched her, and I think she'll be wise to leave the matter there. She is going back to the States pretty soon, and I've got an idea into my head that the clever thing to do is not to get that mob any more annoyed than they are. It might be a different thing," he says, lookin' at me with a grin, "if we had a G-service who could guarantee that people wouldn't be kidnapped."
I look at him. "Ain't you a wise guy, Vandellin?" I tell him. "Can't you see that you're one of those guys who just create a vicious circle where mobsters are concerned. You don't want your sister to give information just because you're all frightened, an' if we don't get the information how the hell can we get busy. It's guys like you who've given the mobs in America the break that they have got. Why don't you be your age?"
He just grins. Then he grabs a black fedora off the chair an' walks past me over to the door. When he gets there he turns around an' grins at Meraline.
"So long, Merry," he says. "I'll come back and pick you up later on, when this flatfoot's gone." He slams the door behind him.
She laughs a sorta gurglin' laugh, an' it sounded good to me. When I look at her I see that she is lookin' at me to see how I took Ricky's last crack.
"You mustn't take too much notice of Ricky, Mr. Caution," she says. "I'm afraid that he's drinking too much these days and is liable to get bad-tempered. Now, please sit down here and have a drink and tell me what you want to know. I can probably tell you more about it than anyone else."
I go over an' sit in the chair where Ricky was sitting an' I give this dame a quiet once-over. This Meraline is a perfect set-up for Esmeralda. Both these dames are eyefuls, but different. Meraline is a brunette, with brown eyes, an' she has got a skin that looks like cream an' a figure that is just nobody's business. She is wearin' a sorta flame-coloured evenin' gown, an' I reckon that if I was around much with her an' Esmeralda, I should go cock-eyed through tryin' to look at 'em both at once.
She goes over to a sideboard an' starts mixin' me a highball.
"Well, lady," I tell her, "I reckon you can start at the beginnin' because I don't know the first thing about this business. Three weeks ago, after Miss Vandellin got away from the mob who snatched her, the Federal Government instructed me to get along an' see all you people, an' get next to just what happened. You see, we knew for certain that the mobster Francelli was behind the snatch, but we couldn't quite make out how it was done. Another thing is that nobody ain't ever seen this Francelli—he's too fly—an' we wouldn't know him if we saw the mug. Washington reckons that it's time we got busy, so they send me along to New York to see youse guys. O.K. When I get there I hear that you've scrammed outa New York an' come over here. Maybe it looks funny my chasin' you over, but people are gettin' good an' burned up over these snatches, an' the Bureau reckon that it's time something was done about it. If you'll spill the beans right from the start I'll be glad."
She brings the drink over an' gives it to me. Then she goes an' sits down opposite me. Boy, has that dame got ankles or has she? I get up an' give her a cigarette an' light it for her, an' she starts in.
"I'll tell you the whole story," she says. "Ricky and Esmeralda and I were in New York. Right then Ricky and I were engaged to be married, but I decided to break off the engagement because I thought he was drinking too much—you can see the sort of person he is. So I wrote him a letter, and said that everything was off. Then I left New York and went down to the Vandellin place on Long Island.
"Apparently a day or two after that Ricky, who had been getting around the night clubs, came back and told his father that he had heard something about a mob planning an attempt to kidnap Esmeralda and hold her for ransom. Naturally, Mr. Vandellin was scared, and went to the police about it. In addition to this I believe that there was an awful blow-up between Mr. Vandellin and Ricky about the way Ricky had been going on and spending money. Ricky promised to turn over a new leaf, and Mr. Vandellin suggested that he and Esmeralda should join me at Long Island. The idea was that Esmeralda would be in a place where she could be kept safe, and that Ricky might persuade me to change my mind and consent to marry him. They arrived, but I couldn't see any signs of Ricky's reformation. He was drinking more than ever.
"The night that the actual kidnapping took place was the third night after they arrived. We had finished dinner and I had gone upstairs to my room. I should explain to you, Mr. Caution, that the Vandellin home on Long Island is shaped like three sides of a square. There is a central block with a wing running out each side, and in the middle is a very wide lawn with tennis courts on the far side. On the other side of the courts is a copse, and beyond that a high wall running along the main state road. The Long Island police had been informed of the proposed kidnapping, and had the house under observation.
"I was standing looking out of my window. It was a lovely night, and on the far side of the lawn I could see Esmeralda and Ricky sitting in deck-chairs. Esmeralda was still trying to read. After a bit they got up and started to walk towards the house. Ricky was carrying Esmeralda's book when, suddenly, he tripped up over the tennis-net guide rope and dropped the book. It seems that he had twisted his ankle very badly, and Esmeralda had to help him back. I ran down and met them when they came in. Ricky limped off to put a cold bandage on his ankle, and Esmeralda and I were sitting on the veranda.
"We sat there talking for quite a while, and it was just beginning to get dark when Esmeralda got up and went to fetch her book from where it had been dropped. I watched her as she walked across the lawn. Just as she got to the tennis court, and was about to pick up the book, three men ran out from the copse, dashed across the court and seized Esmeralda. I heard her scream as one of them put a bag of some sort over her head. Then they picked her up and carried her off into the copse.
"It was all over so quickly that I had hardly time to think. I got up and ran across the lawn. As I ran I heard a car start up on the road beyond the wall, and I realized that I could do nothing. I ran back to the house and dashed up to Ricky's room and told him what had happened. Then we telephoned the police."
I finish my drink an' put the glass down. "Where was the police who were suppose to be watchin' this dump all this time?" I ask her.
She smiles. "They were there all right," she says. "There were two of them patrolling around the wall inside, but they were on the other side of the house when this happened."
I nod my head at her. "So then what?" I ask her.
"Well, there was terrific excitement," she goes on. "The police arrived, and everyone was dashing about in all directions. But nothing happened. There was no clue—nothing for the police to work on.
"Next night Esmeralda appeared at ten o'clock. Her dress was torn and her evening shoes were almost in rags. Apparently she had been put over the wall and into a car on the other side. The car drove off, and after driving for an half hour stopped. By this time they had tied her hands and feet, and although she could breathe through the bag she could see nothing. She was taken into a house and up some stairs and thrown on to a bed. She heard no sound at all. No one spoke. She lay on this bed for fifteen hours, and then, after a long time, she managed to get her hands untied. She got the bag off her head, untied the cord round her ankles, and found herself in the upper room of a farmhouse. Outside the window was a drainpipe. Esmeralda is athletic, and getting down the drainpipe was nothing to her. Then she ran, and after running for about a mile she found that she was only seven miles from the Vandellin house, so she just walked home as quickly as she could.
"The kidnappers, you see, had been clever. They'd just driven around for a bit and finished up about eight miles from the house—a place which no one would have suspected as a hideout. Also, just after the kidnapping a large car had been seen to dash off towards New York at a terrific rate, and the police naturally thought that this was the kidnapper's car. This second car was just a blind.
"So we went back to New York, and when we got there Ricky suggested to Vandellin that the best thing to do would be for us all to come over here, where we knew Esmeralda would be safe—and here we are."
I don't say nothin' for a minute. I am doin' a spot of quiet thinkin'. I give myself a cigarette an' look at her through the smoke. This Meraline is certainly one big honey. Her eyes are as cool an' steady as stars, an' with the same sorta twinkle. I reckon she is certainly one wise lady, an' knows her groceries plenty.
"An' so you think that Esmeralda is safe over here?" I ask her. "Well, maybe she is, an' maybe she ain't. Tell me somethin.' Who was the big guy I saw with her downstairs—the guy who looked as if he owned everything in sight? Maybe he's keepin' an eye on her, too?"
She laughs. I believe I told you that when this dame laughs it sounds like a little brook gurglin' along.
"I expect he is, Mr. Caution," she says. "His name is Havley Gethrin, and he's a New York friend of Ricky's—a big business man, I believe. Also, though its not to be made public at the moment, you may take it for granted that he's Esmeralda's future husband. They're waiting until we get back to the States before the engagement is announced."
I nod. "That's swell. Say, listen, Miss Crane, there's just one little thing that I wanta know about this kidnappin' business on Long Island. It's this: After you saw Esmeralda snatched you started to run across the lawn. O.K. Then you realized that you couldn't do anything, an' you went back to Ricky an' told him, an' he telephoned the police. So the house telephone was O.K."
She shakes her head. "No, it wasn't," she says. "And it was stupid of me not to have told you. When Ricky tried to telephone he found the line was dead. But it hadn't been tampered with inside the house. The main telephone wire from the house had been cut over half a mile away. The kidnappers had done that before they arrived. When Ricky tried to telephone and found the line was dead he sent me off to find the police patrol, who, as I told you, were on the wrong side of the house when the kidnapping actually took place. Whilst I was doing this Ricky went off and telephoned from the next house which was only about a hundred yards away."
"O.K.," I say. "That's all I wanted to know. It looks as if the snatch had been pretty well cased out before they tried it on. Nice organization." I get up. "Thanks a lot, lady," I tell her. "You've been swell, an' as you've taken me into your confidence I reckon I'm going to do the same thing by you. Now if I was you I reckon I'd keep what I'm goin' to tell you under your hat. I wouldn't tell Esmeralda because I reckon it might upset her plenty, but there ain't any reason why you shouldn't tell Havley Gethrin, so' she can keep his lamps skinned. It's just this. On the train comin' from Southampton this afternoon I see a palooka named Enrico Squilla. This Squilla is bad medicine. He is a number one gunman, an' he worked for a mob that is controlled by Bugs Francelli, who is the guy who was behind the Esmeralda snatch. All right. Well, this Squilla might be over here for his health, and then again he might not, an' I don't think it would hurt if all you guys kept stuck around here an' not let Esmeralda get off too much on her own."
She looks serious. "I don't like that, Mr. Caution," she says, after a minute. "Do you think—"
"Lady, I don't think nothin'," I tell her. "I just like usin' my horse sense. Just tell Ricky and Gethrin what I've told you, an' tell 'em to keep an eye on Esmeralda. Maybe I'm just dreamin' things about >Squilla." I pick up my fedora. "Well, lady," I say, "I'll be seein' you."
She holds out her hand. It is a nice sorta hand. "I'm glad you're here, Mr. Caution," she says. "I think I'd feel safe anywhere with you around."
I grin at her. "Thanks a lot," I say. "Only I reckon that if I stuck around much any place where you are I'd be forgettin' my job. My old mother usta tell me that a guy can't think of two things at once, an' I always did have an eye for a lovely."
Havin' put this crack over, I scram. As I shut the door I see her lookin' at me, smilin'.
Out in the street I look at my watch. It is nine-thirty, an' I reckon I have gotta fill in some time before I get back to my apartment to contact John Herrick. It is a swell night, an' I walk up Regent Street an' along Oxford Street, lookin' at the people an' thinking that this England ain't such a bad dump when you come to know it. I turn down a coupla streets after I have walked for about twenty minutes, an' I am just wonderin' where I am when I look up an' see that I am right outside a big apartment block. On the front I see a sign that says it is the Blenheim Arms. So it looks as if I am in Park Street, an' right outside the place where Ricky Vandellin is stayin'.
I walk on, an' when I have walked about thirty yards I stop to light a cigarette. There is a spot of breeze come up an' I turn my back to it so as to shield my lighter with my fingers. This way I am facin' back, lookin' at the entrance of the Blenheim Arms. I light the cigarette an' I am just turning around again when I get one helluva surprise.
Out of the Blenheim Arms comes Squilla. He runs down the front steps, shoots across the road, an' scrams down a narrow turnin' that is opposite. He shoots along as if the devil was after him, an' in a minute he has gone.
I walk on for a few minutes, an' then I turn around an' start walkin' back towards the Blenheim Arms. When I get there I go in and see that the janitor's desk is empty. He ain't there. I look at the indicator an' see that Mr. Vandellin's apartment is on the third floor. I take the elevator, which is one of them things that you work yourself, an' I go up.
I get out at the third, an' walk along the corridor. When I get to the apartment I knock on the door. There ain't any answer. I try the door. It is one of them self-lockin' ones, but the catch has been pulled back an' the door is unlocked.
I go in. I find myself in a square hall. The light is on, an' I can smell the smoke of a good cigar, I go across to the door facin' me an' knock, but there ain't any reply.
I open the door an' look in. Then I switch on the light. It is a bedroom, an' there is a wrap coat an' a black fedora on the bed. I scram out an' try the next door on the right. I open it, but the window blinds are pulled down an' I can't see anythin' at all.
I fumble around an' find the switch an' turn it. When the light goes up I get a sweet surprise, I'm tellin' you.
The room is a sittin'-room—an' a swell one. There is a big couch facin' the door, an' sprawlin' in the middle of the couch is the late Ricky Vandellin.
The couch looks like a meat store on killin' day, because somebody has pumped a whole lot of hot lead inta Ricky. He is shot clean through the head, an' he is lookin' plenty surprised about it, too. His eyes are starin' up an' there is a sorta odd smile around his mouth. I reckon the way he was bumped just froze that grin on his face.
So it looks like the wise guy who said that people don't do any shootin' in England was a bit wrong.
I light myself another cigarette an' then I go back into the hall an' I pull down the catch on the front door an' lock it. Then I take off my hat an' my tuxedo an' look at my watch. It is five minutes past ten.
I go inta the sittin' room an' look around for a telephone. I find one in the corner. I get the book an' find the number of the De Vere apartments—my own dump—in Knightsbridge. I ring through an' ask if Mr. John Herrick is there, an' if so to put him on the line. He is there. In a minute I hear him.
"Hey, John," I say. "How're you doin'?"
"Fine, Lemmy," he says, "And why aren't you here on time, you American bloodhound?"
"Well, I gotta reason," I tell him. "Here it is. I'm up at the Blenheim Arms apartments—Rick Vandellin's place. Ricky's here too, as dead as last year's cold cuts. Somebody's ironed him clean through the thinkin' box and he's goin' stiff on us now. An' what do you know about that?"
I hear him whistle very quietly to himself.
"Listen, John," I tell him. "Just do something for me, willya? You know me. I'm a good guesser. Just lay off reporting' this stiff for a bit an' come around here. I got a whole lotta ideas."
He don't hesitate. "I'm comin' right along," he says.
I put down the 'phone an' throw the cigarette stub in the fireplace. Then I get busy. I go over an' I take a look at Ricky. It looks to me like this guy has been shot when he was sittin' on the couch. The bullet has hit him clean in the middle of the forehead an' knocked him backwards, an' I reckon by the look of the wound that whoever did the shootin' was standin' somewhere in the doorway.
The thing that puzzles me is the sorta smile that he'd got on his face. It looks like he was smilin' when he was shot. Very often when a guy is shot in the head he just gets froze with the same expression on his face that was there when he was alive.
I take a look around. There ain't any sign of a struggle. Nothin' is disarranged, but when I look over towards the fireplace I see somethin' that shows on the grey carpet. I pick it up. It is a black spangle an' it is square. It is just the same as the spangles on Esmeralda's gown—the ones I noticed directly I went inta the Carlton before I knew she was Esmeralda. So maybe Esmeralda was along here.
I put the spangle in my bill-fold so as to keep it safe. Then I go out into the hall. Standin' with my back to the front door I look around. Facin' me are two doors—the one on the left a bedroom an' the one on the right where Ricky is lyin'. On the left of the hall is another door. I push this open an' switch the light on. It is the bathroom. I take a look around but there ain't nothin' there.
Right opposite on the other side of the hall is another door. This door is halfway open, and it is the only door in the flat that was open when I came into it. I go over, go in an' switch the light on.
It is a bedroom, an' lyin' right behind the door is a .32 Colt automatic. I bend down an' pick this gun up with my handkerchief so as not to rub off any fingerprints, an' when I am pickin' the gun up I see something else. Away along by the wall behind the door is a coin. I pick it up. I put this coin in the bill-fold along with the spangle an' I go back to the sittin'-room where Ricky is.
I go over to the couch an' I put my hands on his shoulders, an' I ease him away from the back of the couch. His head slumps forward. I look around the back of his head, an' I can see the hole just below the base of the skull where the bullet has come outa his neck. I look down, an' in the crease of the couch is the bullet where it has fallen. I look at it. It is a .32 all right.
I push Ricky back the way he was before. So it looks to me like he was shot sittin' down by somebody who was standing up about eight to ten feet away. This way the bullet smashes through his forehead, is deflected by the bone, takes a downward course an' comes outa the back of his neck.
I put the bullet in my pocket an' sit down an' do a spot of quiet thinkin'. I'm taking my mind back to this business from the start. I am rememberin' the conversation I had with Meraline when she was tellin' me about this Esmeralda snatch, an' as I sit there I get a very screwy idea in my head, an' this idea sounds to me so nuts that I'll not even bother to tell you what it is because you'd probably think I was crazy.
I sit there lookin' at Ricky, an' thinkin' what a durn funny thing life can be sometimes. Here is a guy who a little while ago was tellin' me all about it, an' there he is as dead as a doornail—no use to anybody at all.
Right then there is a knock on the front door. I open it. Herrick is standin' outside. We shake hands.
"You're a merry little fellow, aren't you?" he says. "I've always noticed directly you get your foot into this country somebody gets murdered. What do you do, Lemmy.... send 'em over here to get killed?"
"Are you askin' me or tellin' me?" I say. "Now this is what I call a very interestin' killin'. Come over an' have a look."
He walks over to the sittin'-room an' he looks at Ricky. After a bit he turns to me.
"What do you know about it, Lemmy?" he says.
I tell him. I tell him the whole durn story of the Esmeralda snatch as I know it. I tell him about seein' Squilla on the train. I tell him who an' what Squilla is an' I tell him that I have seen Squilla easin' out of this flat before I came up here an' found Ricky. He nods his head. Then he takes out an old battered silver cigarette case, gives me a cigarette an' lights one himself.
"Well, that looks pretty easy," he says. "It looks as if this Squilla was working for the mob that was in the original kidnapping. Maybe they thought Ricky Vandellin knew something, so they send Squilla over here to kill him. What do you think of that, Lemmy?"
I shake my head. "I think it is hooey, John," I say. "Squilla never killed this guy. I'll tell you why. Supposin' your idea is right an' the gang had it in for Ricky Vandellin; supposin' they thought he did know something, do you think they're gonna take the trouble to send a thug like Squilla over here to bump him off in this country? He can't do 'em any harm while he's over here, can he? An' you can bet your sweet an' holy life that it is a durn sight easier to bump a guy off in America than it is here.
"I'll tell you something else," I go on. "I know Squilla. He's a professional gunman an' they don't carry pop-guns. Squilla always uses a .45 Webley Scott Naval Automatic. If he'd shot this guy with that gun he'd have blown half his head off. This Ricky was shot with a little gun—a .32—an' I don't think Squilla could even shoot with a little gun like that, although he's a dead shot with his own pistol.
"An' another thing is this: Squilla wouldn't use a technique like this for bumpin' a guy off. He is not such a mug as to chance bein' recognized comin' inta this place bumpin' off Ricky Vandellin, an' easin' out of it with everybody knowin' that it was him who done it. He'd have been more clever than that. He'd have rung Ricky Vandellin up an' got him to meet him some place. No, you can take it from me that Squilla never done this."
"All right," says Herrick. "Well, who do you think did?"
"I don't know," I tell him. "The thing is what're we gonna do?"
He grins. I've told you before that this guy John Herrick is a great guy. He's got a kind sorta face an' he wears a hard hat—they call 'em bowler hats in England—pulled down over his head. He looks anything except a fly cop, but I'm tellin' you he's got a whole lotta brains.
"There is only one thing we do," he says. "We pull Squilla in. It is pretty lucky you saw him on the train this afternoon, Lemmy, an' let me know about it. We know where he's living. He's in an apartment house near Great Russell Street. He went there directly he arrived, and I expect he's gone back there."
"O.K.," I say. "So you pull Squilla in, an' then what happens? Listen, John," I tell him, "it ain't like me to make criticisms about the laws of your country, but you stop me if I'm wrong in givin' you a description of what happens when you pull Squilla in.
"You ask him to go along to Scotland Yard, don't you? Then you tell him that you found Ricky Vandellin ironed out on this couch, an' then you tell him that somebody saw him leavin' the house, an' you ask him to make a statement, don't you? An' what does he do? He turns round with a charmin' smile on his lousy face an' says yes, certainly, don't he? He makes a long an' complete statement and tells you everything about everything. Don't make me laugh. You betcha sweet an' holy life that Squilla knows the law over here just as well as you do. He knows that he can refuse to make a statement, an' nobody is goin' to do anything to him. Why, I bet that palooka even knows that if he wants to have a lawyer down at the Yard before he says anything he's entitled to have one under the law of this country.
"So what'll he do? Bein' a wise guy, he'll tell you that he don't know anythin' about it, that he came up here to see Ricky Vandellin about somethin' or other. He'll make up some sorta story about how he found Ricky Vandellin was dead, so he scrammed out of it. When you ask him if he carries a gun he'll say yes. You'll probably find he's got an American permit to carry one. He'll show you the gun, an' you will see like I told you, that it is an old fashioned .45 Webley Scott.
"He'll show you that it ain't been fired. He'll tell you that he ain't got any other sorta gun, after which he'll ask you to produce the bullet that was fired into Ricky Vandellin an' compare it with one of the bullets in his gun, an' you'll see that he never did it. So what do you do then? You have to let him go, don't you, because there ain't anything that you can hold him on except carryin' a pistol in this country without a permit."
I put my hand in my pocket an' I show him the bullet. "There it is, John," I tell him. "I found it on the couch. It came out the back of his neck an' dropped down there. It is a .32 all right."
He nods his head.
"You see, John," I go on. "The whole point is that Squilla ain't goin' to talk. You know as well as I do that he isn't over here for his health, an' both you an' me have got the same idea that he is over here on somethin' to do with this original Esmeralda snatch.
"He'll have some story all pat as to why he was comin' over here, an' why he wanted to see Vandellin, but you won't get a word out of him, an' under the laws of your country you ain't got anythin' to hold him on. You can't charge him with suspected murder. There ain't such a charge, an' in this country you've got to prove a guy killed somebody before you can charge him with murder.
"You ain't even got any circumstantial evidence that is worth a cuss," I grin. "In the States it'd be different. We could hold him as a material witness, an' we've got other methods—the short arm ones."
"Have you got an idea, Lemmy?" he asks.
"You bet I have," I tell him. "My idea is just this. This killin's got to be reported. You report it. Then you go round to the Carlton and break the news to Esmeralda an' the others. They've got to know that Ricky's been bumped some time, but I don't want you to do anything else just for the minute.
"What I do is this. I get around to this dump of Squilla's an' I have a little talk with Squilla. He knows me. I reckon I got ways an' means of makin' that guy talk a little bit which wouldn't be considered the thing over here, but you don't know anythin' about that, see? Directly I've seen this palooka I'll contact you either at the Yard or at your flat, an' I'll let you know what's happenin'. It looks to me like that's the only way we're goin' to get a move on with this job, John. Otherwise, I reckon we're up against a brick wall."
He nods. "Maybe you're right," he says. "Only you will have to move pretty quick."
"I'll move quick enough," I tell him. "What's Squilla's address?"
He gives it to me, an' I write it down in my book. Then I put on my hat. "O.K., John," I say. "I'll be seein' you."
I scram. As I am goin' out I see him movin' over to the telephone.
When I get downstairs I grab a taxi that is passin' an' I tell the guy to drive to Fenton Street, near Great Russell Street, where this Squilla is livin', an' when I get inta the cab an' sit back I sorta give myself a large bunch of flowers over the way I have handled Herrick.
Because I reckon the way I have played things Herrick cannot do anything at all until he hears from me. He has got to let me talk to Squilla before he can pull anything, an' if Squilla should happen to get lost after I have talked to him an' nobody can find him, well, that ain't my fault, is it?
So I reckon that Herrick will report the killin' to Scotland Yard, an' will then get round to the Carlton an' break the news to Esmeralda, Meraline an' Havley Gethrin. After that he can't do a thing except, maybe, to have some pictures taken an' check up with the janitor at the Blenheim Arms about who come in an' went out during the time between half-past nine an' ten.
An' he won't get anything there, because on my way down I have asked the hall-porter about this an' he tells me that there wasn't anybody on duty between nine-twenty-five an' nine-fifty-five—he was away havin' his supper. He has also told me that Ricky Vandellin never spoke to anybody on the telephone that evenin', because his room telephone line was switched down to the hall switchboard until the janitor noticed it when he got back an' switched the connection through to Vandellin's room.
Another thing, I expect you are wonderin' why I never told John Herrick anythin' about the .32 automatic, the dress spangle an' the nickel that I found on the floor of the flat. Well, I am just goin' to keep them findin's to myself, not because I wanta put anything across Herrick, but because of this screwy idea that I have got back of my head an' that I am goin' to play along, an' I am just not goin' to say anythin' until I have had a talk with Meraline an' Esmeralda an' Havley Gethrin, because there is one or two things I wanta ask these guys about the late Ricky.
I STOP the taxi at the end of Fenton Street, an' walk slowly along the street, workin' out the way I am goin' to handle this job, until I come to the house.
The street is a dark sorta place, an' the house is pretty bum, too. It is one of them cheap roomin' houses where you would expect a guy like Squilla to live if he was over here on a no-good job. I ring the bell, an' after a minute some hired girl comes out an' says what do I want.
I ask her if the guy who came here today from abroad is in, an' she says do I mean Mr. Schraut, an' I say yes, that is the guy—because I reckon that Squilla ain't callin' himself Squilla, but by the name that is on his passport. She says she will go an' see, an' she turns around an' starts goin' up the stairs. I go right after her, an' when we get to the second floor she raps on the door an' I hear a guy say "Come." It is Squilla's voice O.K. so I just push the girl aside, open the door, an' stick my head in.
Squilla is on the other side of the room in a corner throwin' some things inta a travellin' bag. The room is the ordinary sort of room that you get in a dump like that, except that there is a telephone on a little table on the left in the room. As I stand there I can hear the hired girl goin' back down the stairs.
Squilla spins around an' stands there lookin' at me. He is sweatin' considerable, although he has got his coat off an' his shirt collar undone. Under his waistcoat armhole I can see the bulge where his is wearing a shoulder holster. I shut the door behind me an' turn the key in the lock.
"Hey, Squilla," I say. "Howya makin' out?"
He don't say anything. He just stands there lookin'.
I ease over to him. "Now look, Squilla," I start, an' as I am speakin' I shoot up a crooked left and smash him under the jaw. He goes down, an' starts to get up when I give him another. I smack him a hard one on the kisser that shakes him plenty, an' follow it with a jab in his guts. He makes a pass to get at his gun under his arm, but he can't make it in time. While he is tryin' I grab him by the shirt collar, pick him up, an' give him a go-to-sleep-dearie bust right between the eyes.
He gives a sorta groan an' fades out. I pick him up an' carry him over to the bed an' throw him on to it. He just lies there like a log; breathin' like a pig with asthma.
I light myself a cigarette an' do a little thinkin'. Then I ease over to the table with the telephone on it and find the directory. I look up Makrash an' find that he is in some office in High Holborn. This guy Makrash is a private dick. He has worked for me before. He is a Canadian, an' knew me in the States. Fritz Makrash is a regular sorta guy an' intelligent.
Pretty soon I get him. He is in his apartment in Sloan Street, but he has got a switch wire in his office which goes through to his place after eight o'clock, which is lucky.
"Hey, Makrash," I tell him. "This is Caution speakin', an' here's a little assignment for you that won't wait. Do you want it?"
He laughs. "I didn't know you was over here, Lemmy," he says. "What's the business? I'm signin' on all right."
"O.K.," I say. "Here it is."
I tell him where I am an' I give him a description of Squilla. "Looky, Makrash," I say, "I am fadin' outa here in about half-an-hour—that is around midnight. O.K. Well, pretty soon after I've left this dump I reckon this guy Squilla will be scrammin' out as fast as he can go. You gotta have a guy stickin' around to tail Squilla an' let me know where he scrams to. Got that? An' your guy better have a car," I go on, "just in case this Squilla wants to do a little tourin'. An' you can get me at the De Vere apartments in Knightsbridge any time you want me. Got that?"
"I got it," he says. "Say, who am I workin' for?"
"You're workin' for the U.S. Government," I say, "but I'm paying the bill. Get to it, Fritz, an' don't let this Squilla give you the run around. See you put a guy on with plenty intelligence."
"I ain't got any others," he says. "So long, Lemmy."
I hang up an' take a look at Squilla. He is still out.
I ring the Carlton Hotel, and ask to speak to Miss Meraline Crane. I reckon by now that Herrick has spread the news about the Ricky bump-off. I am right. When she comes to the telephone I can tell by her voice that she is all broke up.
"Say, listen, Miss Crane," I tell her. "I'm pretty sorry about all this, an' I reckon that you're not feelin' too good yourself, but that don't alter the fact that we've got to get the guy who ironed out Ricky. Now I got to talk to you, an' I got to talk to you pretty soon. There's a lot breakin' around this case."
She says all right; she'll do anything I say.
"O.K.," I tell her. "Now what I want is just this. I want to find out just where Esmeralda an' Havley Gethrin was tonight when they went out. Just find out nice an' quiet in the course of talkin'. Then I want you to come around an' see me at the De Vere Apartments at one o'clock. I reckon I'll be there then. I'll tell the porter you're comin'."
"All right, Mr. Caution," she says. "But why do you want to know where Esmeralda was? Surely you don't think—"
"I don't think, lady," I tell her. "I just use my horse-sense." I drop my voice. "Get a load of this," I go on, "when I saw Esmeralda goin' out tonight she was wearin' a dress covered with square black spangles. O.K. Well, I found one spangle up in Ricky Vandellin's flat on the floor in front of the couch where he was bumped, an' I don't like it a bit. So you just get hold of that information an' come round at one. O.K.?"
"I'll be there," she says, an' I can hear a little sorta sob in her voice.
I hang up; then I take another look at Squilla. He is just comin' round. He wags his head for a bit an' then starts to open his eyes. I ease over an' stand beside the bed, lookin' down at him. He gets his eyes open.
"You son-of-a-bitch," he starts in.
"Take it easy, sweetheart," I tell him. I put my thumb on his nose an' squeeze it down until it is flat on his face. He starts whimperin' an' the tears are streamin' outa his eyes. I lean over an' take his gun off him.
"Maybe you're gonna talk some sense now, Squilla," I tell him, "otherwise I'm goin' to work on you properly, and when I've finished with you you'll look like something the cat brought in. Now let's get this right—are you talkin' or are you talkin'?"
I put my thumb on his nose again an' he decides that he is talkin'.
"O.K.," I tell him. "Now I just wanta ask you a coupla questions, an' I don't want any hooey. You're in a spot an' you know it. Ricky Vandellin was bumped tonight an' I see you comin' outa the Blenheim Arms right afterwards. If you don't want to face up to a murder rap you'd better talk plenty."
He sits up. "Listen, Caution," he says, "I never killed nobody. I'm tellin' you that when I went outa that place Ricky Vandellin was as alive as you are. I'm tellin' you—"
"Shucks," I tell him. "You ain't tellin' me anything. I'm tellin' you. Now, Squilla, talk fast. What didya come over here for? Spill it."
"I don't know, boss," he says. "I'm tellin' ya I don't know." He takes a gulp an' starts fingerin' his nose which I reckon is good an' sore. After a bit he starts in again. "I been workin' for Dutch Schraut," he says. "Schraut's been doin' a job for this guy Francelli—the guy who nobody ain't seen. O.K. After they tried that Esmeralda Vandellin snatch, an' the goil got away, Schraut tells me that I gotta come over here. He gives me the dough an' fixes me a passport. He tells me to come an' stay at this dump here, an' wait until some guy tells me what to do.
"O.K. I get in today an' I stick around. This evenin' the telephone rings an' some guy who I don't know comes on the line. He says that I am to get around to the Blenheim Arms in Park Street an' that somebody will meet me around there an' tell me what to do.
"O.K. So I get around there, an' when I get there I go right up because there ain't any janitor in the place. I rap on the front door an' Vandellin opens it an' says what do I want? I say I don't know, but that I have been sent around there to wait for somebody, an' I tell him who I am. He says he don't know what I'm talkin' about, but I had better come in an' wait for a minute, so's he can see who this mysterious guy is who is comin'. I stick around there till ten o'clock an' then I scram. I leave Ricky Vandellin on the couch smokin' a cigar. That's all I know, an' I'm tellin' the truth boss."
I put my hand out an' take hold of him by the shirt collar an' I bust him on the nose. He flops down on the bed. I reckon his nose must be hurtin' him by now.
"You lousy heel," I tell him. "Just try some more of that four-flushin' punk an' see what I'll do to you, you lyin' hellion."
I pull his head up an' I bust him down again. He starts whimperin'. I pick hold of him an' stick him up against the bed rail. Then I get some water from the basin an' slosh it over his pan. His face is so mussed up that it is lookin' like a rainbow.
"You didn't know that Ricky Vandellin was livin' at the Blenheim Arms place when you came over here, didya?" I ask him. "Somebody phoned through, did they? An' told you to go along there, an' you didn't know what you was goin' along there for, didya?—You poor little innocent mug, an' you a mobster!"
I stand away from this guy an' look at him an' while I am lookin' I am thinkin': I know this Squilla is tryin' to two-time me, but I reckon that maybe it might suit me to make out that I am believin' the punk story he has just tried to pull on me. I light myself another cigarette.
"O.K., Squilla," I say. "I am just gonna ask you one more question, an' if you don't ante up with the works I am goin' to turn you in to the cops here on a first degree murder charge. An' how d'ya like that? An' here is the question:
"You knew that Ricky Vandellin was in on the Esmeralda snatch on Long Island, didn't you? Wasn't he in on that? Didn't he help frame up that job an' try an' fix it so that Francelli could snatch his sister, just so's he could take a cut in the ransom dough? Is that a fact or is it a fact?"
He nods his head. "You're dead right, boss," he says. "He was in on it. Schraut told me he was."
"O.K.," I go on. "An' you're stickin' to the story that all you know about this killin' is that some guy you don't know 'phoned you tonight an' told you to go around to the Blenheim Arms and wait for him? What time did he come through?"
"It was about a quarter to ten," he says. "I got a taxi an' I went straight around there. It was just like I said, boss, an' that's the truth."
"Yeah," I tell him. "An' I'm the Emperor of China. I'm lettin' you stick to that tale because maybe it suits me to have it that way. But if you want me to tellya why you went around to the Blenheim Arms I reckon that I could make a sweet guess. I reckon you went around there to blackmail Ricky Vandellin for plenty. If he didn't come across you was going to tell his sister and old man Vandellin that he was the guy who suggested the Esmeralda snatch to Francelli. That's the way I figure it, but don't let that affect you, you mug. Just stick to your own story, an' see you do stick to it, otherwise I'm gonna give you plenty."
He don't say nothin'. He just sits up there with a busted nose.
I throw my cigarette stub away. "Listen, punk," I tell him. "I'm bustin' outa here. You stick around 'here where we can get you when we want you an' don't try any funny business. An' another thing—it won't do you no good to try an' use that telephone because the line is tapped. Stick around an' maybe you'll be all right. So long, you big-time mobster."
I give him a big horse laugh, an' I scram. I reckon that it won't be long before he breaks outa that dump an' scrams, which is just what I want him to do.
I walk around into Great Russell Street an' get myself a taxi. I tell the guy to drive me to the cable office in Piccadilly. In the cab I get out the .32 Colt automatic that I found in Ricky Vandellin's apartment. I take the registration number off the butt.
When I get to the cable office I send this one:
CHIEF AGENT, G-SERVICE, FEDERAL BUREAU,
DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE, NEW YORK CITY—
URGENT PRIORITY
REQUEST YOU CHECK UP PERMIT AND ISSUE OF .32 COLT AUTOMATIC 1935 MODEL SHORT BREECH ACTION NO. 4653/72Z4 STOP PROBABLY ISSUED WITHIN LAST WEEKS STOP ADVISE ME DE VERE APARTMENTS, KNIGHTSBRIDGE, LONDON, ENGLAND STOP MAKE IT SNAPPY STOP LEMUEL H. CAUTION
I look at my watch. It is five minutes to one. I reckon I will get around an' have a little conversation with Meraline. In the cab I start thinkin' about her. Esmeralda is an eyeful, but for me—well, I go for Meraline.
WHEN I get to the De Vere dump I am wonderin' whether I am goin' to find John Herrick sittin' on the mat waitin' for me, which is a thing I do not want particularly, because I reckon that if I can get left to myself for a few hours I can clean this case up. I'm tellin' you that I've got a helluva lot of ideas about this Ricky Vandellin killin', an' if you been following what I've told you maybe you'll have the same ones yourself.
I pay off the taxi an' I go inside. Meraline is sittin' in the hall waitin', but there ain't any sign of Herrick. I chuck my hat at the janitor an' go over to her.
She looks all washed up. There are circles under her eyes an' I can see her hands tremblin'. She gets up, an' I can see that she is keen to start talkin'.
"Take it easy, Meraline," I tell her. "There ain't any cause to get all steamed up. I reckon that you're feelin' not so good about this thing, but take a logical angle on it. What's the difference if there's a Ricky more or less in the world?" I think I will try an' get a grin outa her. "Now if it hadda been me," I go on, "well, there mighta been something to worry about, hey?"
She smiles. "You're a great comfort, Lemmy," she says—an' do I get a kick outa hearin' her call me by my first name?—"And I feel that Esmeralda's safe while you're around. But you ought not to say anything against Ricky. He was just foolish, that's all."
I look at her. "Maybe he was, an' maybe he was somethin' else," I say. "But I reckon we won't talk about that now."
The janitor is sort of hoverin' about around his desk, an' when I turn around he comes up an' gives me a note. It is in a police envelope an' I reckon it's from Herrick.
As we go up in the lift I read it:
Dear Lemmy, he says.
I thought that you might have telephoned me at the Yard and missed me as I was round at the Carlton breaking the news rather a longer time than I thought. How did you make out with Squilla? I am going round to the Yard now. It's just eleven-forty-five. And I'll wait there in my office until twelve-thirty. If I don't hear from you by then I shall go home. My number there is Fulham 77432. If there is anything important you can ring me there, or if everything is more or less in order, I shall be at my office at nine-thirty in the morning.
I have reported the Vandellin murder to my Chief Constable, and in the absence of the Commissioner the Assistant Commissioner has indicated, through the Chief Constable, that it's O.K. for you to handle the initial stages of the enquiry.
But we must break with the news officially by tomorrow afternoon, otherwise the Press will be wondering why the job is being kept quiet.
All the best,
John Herrick.
So that's O.K., because between you an' me an' the local hi-jack merchant I reckon that if I don't sign off the way-bill on this case by some time tomorrow morning, then I'm a Dutchman with a coupla wooden legs.
When we get to my floor I take Meraline along to my sittin'-room an' park her in a big chair. She is wearin' a black velvet cloak with a big fur collar, an' she looks like a million dollars except that it is stickin' out a foot that this dame is tired to death, which, when you come to think of it, is not surprisin'.
Then I ring down to the night guy an' tell him to bring some coffee up for two. When I have done this I give Meraline a cigarette an' light one for myself an' I am just about to start in when the telephone goes.
It is Fritz Makrash. "Hey, Lemmy," he says. "Here's my news. I was the wise little dick. I didn't put one man on that job of keeping tabs on Squilla, I put two—and was I right? Pretty soon after you came out of Squilla's place in Fenton Street out he comes. He has got a travellin' bag in his hand, an' he eases off down to the end of the street and grabs himself a cab at Great Russell Street. One of my men—the one with the car—goes after him, and the other one sticks around there in case Squilla gets wise to the fact that he's being tailed, and comes back home.
"All right. Well, about ten minutes after Squilla has gone, some guy in a lounge suit with his hat down over his eyes comes along Fenton Street, and goes to Squilla's place. He has a spot of conversation with the servant girl and then he scrams. My guy who is watchin' the house thought it better to let him go, so he stuck around and after a few minutes he went over to the house and pulled a fast one on the servant. He said that the gentleman who had just called has sent him back to ask when the other fellow—meaning Squilla—would be back. The girl gets annoyed and says that she has just told the previous caller that 'Mr. Schraut' has paid his bill and gone.
"So it looks as if Squilla won't be going back to Fenton Street. I've taken the second man off, because the first fellow—the one with the car—will stick to Squilla like glue. I've given him your telephone number at the De Vere Apartments, so if he's got anything to report he'll come right through to you. O.K.?"
"Swell work, Fritz," I tell him. "Now you can go to bed, an' with a bitta luck I'll hear from your guy. So long, Fritzie."
I hang up. While I have been talkin' on the telephone the night janitor has brought up the coffee an' Meraline is pourin' it out. As I stand there watchin' her I get to thinkin' that one of these fine days I'm goin' to walk out on this "G" business an' go get myself a chicken farm in Connecticut an' maybe a girl built on the same model as Meraline. I reckon that it would be a nice change from bein' a dick.
I go over to her an' she hands me the cup.
"Lemmy," she says, "I want..."
"Listen, lady," I tell her, "it ain't what you want. Right now it's what I want, an' there ain't enough time for both of us to get what we want. So you just keep that little mouth shut up nice an' tight, except when I'm askin' you to do some talkin'. Got that? O.K. Well, here we go.
"The first thing I want to know is this: What was all you guy's arrangements for this evenin', hey? Supposin' I hadn't turned up, an' Ricky Vandellin hadn't got himself bumped off—what was you goin' to do?"
She looks across at me from the chair where she has parked herself. "Havley Gethrin and Esmeralda were going round to the Green Grill in Regent Street for dinner," she says. "I was going with them, but I had a headache so I changed my mind. Ricky wanted to go back to his apartment on Park Street and he was going to pick me up. When they'd dined they were going along to the Savoy to dance and we were to join them there if I felt better at eleven o'clock."
"O.K.," I say. "Now, Meraline, did you find out just what Havley Gethrin an' Esmeralda was doin' after they spoke to me in the hall at the Carlton? What did they do, and when did they come back?"
She stubs out her cigarette. "I'll tell you," she says. "I had the whole story from Esmeralda. After they spoke to you in the foyer they took a taxi outside and drove straight round to the Green Grill. They got there about five minutes to nine, and after a cocktail they began dinner. About twenty minutes afterwards a waiter came and spoke to Havley Gethrin. Esmeralda didn't hear what the waiter said, but Havley told her that he was wanted on the telephone and might be away for a while, so she was to go on with her dinner and not bother to wait for him as it might be a long conversation."
"O.K.," I butt in. "So that would be a quarter past nine."
"Havley went off," she goes on, "and he was away for over half an hour—about thirty-five minutes, Esmeralda says. He came back at ten minutes to ten and apologised for having been away so long."
"Swell," I say, "An' what was Esmeralda doin' while Havley Gethrin was away, hey? I suppose she says she just sat there an' went on eatin' her dinner?"
"Why, of course, Lemmy," she says. "What else should she do? Surely you don't think....?"
"I don't think a thing," I say. "But I know that in that thirty-five minutes she had plenty of time to go out, grab a cab, get round to the Blenheim Arms, shoot Ricky an' get back again before Gethrin came back. I don't say she did do that thing, but I say she coulda done it."
"But it's impossible," she says. "How could she? She was very fond of Ricky."
"Sure," I tell her, "but the fact remains that I found a spangle off her dress on the carpet in Ricky's apartment. Well, go on, Meraline, and so Gethrin come back after his telephone call about thirty-five minutes after he went out to answer it—that is about ten minutes to ten. O.K. Well, then what happened?"
"Well, the evening went on as arranged. They finished dinner and went on to the Savoy, and they came back to the Carlton after I telephoned them, which was after I saw Inspector Herrick."
"When was that, Meraline?" I ask her. "Say, wasn't you surprised at Ricky not comin' back to pick you up like he said?"
She hesitates. "I was and I wasn't," she says. "After you left I waited for a long time—I don't know how long—and then I telephoned through to Ricky to ask him why he hadn't come round for me. But there was no reply. I could hear the telephone buzzing at the other end, but nobody answered."
"And there was a swell reason for that," I tell her. "You musta phoned through while the hall janitor downstairs was away at his supper. During that time he forgot to switch the telephone up to Ricky's apartment. Because the phone didn't ring while I was there, and if you'd rang after Herrick had gone the janitor woulda answered it, because Herrick woulda switched down to his desk, knowing that Ricky was stiff an' couldn't answer it."
"Yes," she says. "That's how it was. Well, anyhow, after I'd waited for a long time I suddenly got the idea into my head that Ricky had been drinking and was probably in his apartment drunk—it wouldn't be the first time that's happened. So I thought I'd go round there and find out. I went downstairs and took a taxi, and when I got there I met Inspector Herrick in the hall. He told me that I couldn't go up and brought me back to the hotel. That was at eleven o'clock. On the way back he told he what had happened. Directly we got back to the Carlton I telephoned through to the Savoy, and Esmeralda and Havley came back at once."
"I suppose it's hit 'em for a home run," I say, "hearin' that Ricky got himself shot?"
She nods. "Esmeralda's absolutely brokenhearted," she says. "But she's a brave kid and she's keeping a stiff upper lip. Havley is curious and angry. He says he is never going to rest until he gets to the bottom of it. He says he's going to get the killer if he has to do it himself."
"Swell," I tell her. "Maybe he can start in by givin' me a little information."
I give her another cigarette an' light one for myself. "Now listen, Meraline," I tell her, "I'm goin' to talk pretty straight to you an' I'm goin' to trust you to keep that pretty little mouth closed tight. Maybe you'd like to know why Ricky was shot. Well, I'm gonna tell you. Here it is:
"Ricky Vandellin was shot because he was playin' in with the mob that snatched his sister Esmeralda down on Long Island three weeks ago. He was the guy who planned it and he was in on it. Maybe you'd like to know how I know that an' maybe I'll surprise you when I say that it was you who told me!"
She looks at me with her eyes poppin'. "I told you?" she says. "I don't understand—"
"Listen, sister," I tell her, "just cast your mind back to what you told me about what happened when Esmeralda was snatched. Get these angles:
"You said that Ricky had a row with old man Vandellin over money. The old boy wouldn't let him have any dough, so then what happens? Why, Ricky says that he's heard somewhere around the night clubs that somebody is gonna try an' snatch Esmeralda. O.K. The next thing he does is to suggest that it will be safer if she goes down to Long Island, an' the reason why he does this is because he knows that the snatch is planned to be staged there. Got that?
"O.K. Well, on the night he takes Esmeralda over to the other side of the tennis court, an' she is readin' a book that she is very interested in, he says it's time for them to go in an' he carries the book for her. Then he pretends to slip up an' hurt his ankle because he knows that she will leave the book where he has dropped it so as to help him walk.
"An' he knows that she will go back for it, because when he is back at the house he tells her to go an' get it because he wants to read it, see? So she goes back an' is just in the right place for the snatch to come off.
"Now, how do I know that Ricky was pullin' one about his ankle? Well, it's easy. Listen to this: After the snatch you tell him about it an' he tries to telephone to the police, but the wire is cut so he can't get through.
"So what does he do? His ankle is supposed to be so bad that Esmeralda had to help him back to the house, but he can walk on it for a hundred yards to the next house to telephone. Got me? His ankle wasn't hurt at all. It was a fake.
"Now, another interestin' point is this: You tell me that the telephone wire wasn't cut inside the house. The main telephone cable was cut half a mile away an' this was done so that it wouldn't look like an inside job. But what you don't know is this: Inside the main telephone cable was the wires runnin' from six houses includin' the one next to the Vandellin place—the one Ricky telephoned from. Now if a gang of snatchers had been cuttin' the wire, they woulda cut the lot so that none of the houses coulda used the telephone. Got that? Instead of that they only cut the one wire from the Vandellin house, so's Ricky can telephone from the next house after plenty of time has gone for this fake snatch to take place."
She looks at me. She is as surprised as hell. "Fake snatch?" She says. "You mean—"
"I mean it was a fake snatch," I tell her. "Listen, Meraline. Do you think that if a real honest-to-goodness mob had snatched Esmeralda they woulda let her get away as easy as they did? D'you think they woulda taken her to some dump not eight miles from the Vandellin house? Not on your life! That snatch was a fake, an' the mob who pulled it was leadin' Ricky Vandellin up the garden path properly.
"Here's the way I figure it: Ricky is broke an' can't get any money from old Vandellin, so he contacts Schraut's mob, which is one of the mobs workin' under this guy Francelli. O.K. He suggests that he will get Esmeralda down to Long Island, an' that the mob should snatch her down there. Then they can ask a hell of a ransom from the old boy an' cut Ricky in on it.
"But Francelli is a wise guy. That guy has got a lotta brains. So what does he do? He tells the mob to pull a fake snatch on Esmeralda, but to let her get away. After which he has got Mr. Ricky Vandellin for the rest of his life, see? Ricky would have been one of the richest men in the States one day, an' Francelli coulda bled him white. He was gonna blackmail Ricky for the rest of that guy's life.
"O.K. When Ricky comes over here with you Schraut gets busy. He thinks he will start doin' a little blackmailin' pronto, so he sends this thug Squilla over here with the idea of startin' in right away. Squilla went round there tonight to see Ricky. He says Ricky was alive when he left, an' I believe the guy for once.
"I saw Squilla tonight an' he tells me that he went round to Ricky's to meet some mysterious person. He went round there because he had a telephone call to go round there.
"Now who was this person? Was it Esmeralda, an' did she drop a spangle there? Was that it? Well, that is maybe the story, but I think that Squilla is lying. I reckon that old man Vandellin came across to Ricky an' gave him a helluva wad to come over here with, an' Squilla's instructions was to get around there an' separate Ricky from most of it. That's what I believe, although just for the moment I'm gonna believe Squilla's story for reasons of my own. An' what d'you know about all that, lady?"
She don't say nothin'. She just sits there lookin' straight in front of her. I reckon that what I have told her has knocked her for the boundary.
"Now, looky, Meraline," I tell her, "don't you say a word about what I have told you. You gotta help me by keepin' mum. Tell me something—was Havley Gethrin an' Esmeralda up when you left the hotel to come here?"
"Oh, yes," she says. "They were still talking about it."
"O.K.," I tell her. "Well, I'm goin' back there with you now. When we get back I want you to scram off to bed an' leave me to have a little conversation with Gethrin an' Esmeralda. Got that?"
"All right, Lemmy," she says, an' I can see the tears in her eyes. "I'll do anything you say."
"That's talkin'," I tell her. "Here we go."
We have just got to the door, an' I am just thinkin' that I will have to tell the night janitor to take any calls that come through for me, when the telephone goes again. I am hopin' that this is Fritz' guy—the one who went after Squilla—an' I am right.
When I say "Hello," some guy asks who I am, an' when I say that I am Lemmy Caution, he goes right ahead.
"My name's Penn," he says. "Johnny Penn, an' I work for Fritz Makrash. I been on the tail of this hombre who come out of house in Fenton Street after you did. Here's what he's done. He picked up a taxi in Great Russell Street an' I went after him in the car. He drove around to the Drive-Yourself Garage in Tottenham Court Road, paid off the cab, an' hired himself a saloon car. I stuck around the corner with the engine running. Pretty soon he comes out in the saloon an' steps on it good an' proper, drives down to Maidenhead like the devil himself was after him—I reckon he was doin' sixty after he got out of the traffic. When he gets to Maidenhead he goes to some roadhouse called the Last Card, that's out on the road to Marlow, an' he goes in there.
"I didn't try an' go in because he'd left the car outside, and I reckoned that if he was going to stay he'd have garaged it because they got a garage round the back. I was right there, because after about seven or eight minutes he comes out an' gets into the car. I see him talkin' to the man on the door of the Last Card an' I reckon he was askin' the direction for some place he was going to. Then he gets going. He drives around in a circle and then breaks off in the direction of Bourne End. When he gets out the other side he turns his headlight up an' down two or three times and he stopped to do it, so I reckon that it was some sort of signal to somebody. Then he starts off again and takes a side turning that runs towards a wood. Halfway down this turning he turns into a gate.
"I stop my car and get out and go after him. He has turned into a paddock gate and is driving the car across the paddock. He has closed the gate behind him and he is evidently going to the house that the paddock belongs to. It is a pretty big house set back behind a big lawn with trees round it.
"I walk round to the front and I can see that he has left his car behind a sort of shrubbery in the front of the house. I go back and get the car and drive into Bourne End. They tell me that the name of the house is Gelland's Place and that it belongs to an American named Pellpont Wade. I'm talking from a call-box on the Bourne End Road. What do I do now?"
I look at my watch. It is two o'clock. "Listen, Penn," I tell this guy. "You done good work. Stick around that Gelland's Place an' keep your lamps on Squilla. If Squilla scrams out of it keep on his tail and don't leave him. But I reckon he won't scram. I reckon he's gonna stick around there. All right, if he don't leave the place you still hang around, see? You wait for me to come out there. I reckon that I'll be with you in an hour's time, maybe around three or a quarter past, an' I'll pick you up in the paddock that you spoke about. Can you watch the house from there?"
He says he can. That he'll have to stick over by the trees behind the house, but that he can just see Squilla's car from there.
"O.K.," I tell him, "an' don't smoke or do anythin' so's they'll get wise. Just stick around. So long."
I hang up an' I go over to Meraline. We go down in the lift an' grab a cab outside. I tell the hack to step on it an' get around to the Carlton quick.
Meraline don't say a word; she is just sittin' lookin' in front of her. I reckon she is worried sick.
"Now, listen, honey," I tell her. "When we get to the Carlton I wanta talk to Esmeralda first—on her own. If she's with Havley Gethrin we gotta be clever an' get him outa the way. I wanta talk to him too, afterwards. So if they're together you've gotta fix it somehow."
She says that she will do her best. Lookin' at her sideways I can see some tears runnin' down her face. I don't reckon that I've ever seen a dame so pretty as Meraline. I put my arm around her.
"Now, listen, Meraline," I tell her. "You turn off the tears, honey, an' listen to me, because I reckon you gotta do a man's job. Maybe you think that I'm worryin' a lot about this Ricky killin', an' maybe I am an' maybe I ain't. But if I am it's not because I give a durn about Ricky bein' bumped off—it's for somethin' else, see?"
"What else, Lemmy?" she says. "What else could there be?"
"I reckon they're goin' to snatch Esmeralda," I say. "But this time it'll be the real snatch. I reckon that now Ricky's been bumped they'll get action as quick as hell. So turn off the tears, honeybunch, an' take it easy."
"What do you want me to do, Lemmy?" she says. "I've told you I'll do anything you say."
"Just be your age an' stick around," I say. "After I've seen Esmeralda an' Gethrin I'm gonna scram outa the Carlton without speakin' to you again. See? Directly I get with Esmeralda you say you're goin' off to bed an' then scram to your own room. Have you gotta telephone in your bedroom?"
She says yes.
"O.K.," I tell her. "Well, directly you go to your room you ring through to the De Vere Apartments garage. You tell 'em you're speakin' for me an' you want 'em to hire me a fast car. Tell 'em to send it around to wait for me in that parkin' place by the Duke of York's steps opposite the Carlton, an' the guy in it is to wait until I come an' take it off him. You got that?"
She says she's got it.
"O.K.," I go on. "Well, after that you gotta stay awake, see? You gotta turn in an' he in bed with the light on an' read or do somethin' to keep yourself awake. You have the telephone by your bedside, an' wait for a call from me. Got that?"
She says she's got it. I get the Carlton telephone number from her an' the number of her room, an' I put 'em in my book.
When we get to the Carlton I stick around downstairs while she goes up in the lift to see what's goin' on. She comes down in a coupla minutes an' says everything is O.K. Havley Gethrin has gone to bed an' Esmeralda was waitin' up for her, so I can come right up.
I get in the lift an' we go up. When I go inta the sittin'-room I'm thinkin' that a helluva lot has happened since last time I was there, an' that life can be durn funny sometimes.
Esmeralda is sittin' by the fire, which has been lit because it has turned a bit cold. She is wearin' a lacy sorta wrap an' I can see that she has been cryin' like hell.
Meraline tells her that I wanta ask her a few questions an' that she is tired out an' thinks that she'll go to bed. She kisses Esmeralda an' shakes hands with me. She gives my hand a little sorta squeeze an' when I look at her I can see that she is smilin' at me—a funny, nice sorta smile. Then she scrams.
Esmeralda asks me if I would like a drink. I say no, I wouldn't, an' I take a chair an' sit down opposite her.
"Now look, Esmeralda," I tell her. "I reckon you're pretty burned up about Ricky bein' bumped off, an' I reckon that you'd do anything to see the killer brought in. O.K. Well, you gotta help me. I'm goin' to ask you one or two funny sorta questions, an' you mustn't mind if they're sorta personal, see? Maybe I'm workin' from an odd angle."
She nods her head. She says go right ahead.
"O.K.," I tell her. "Now, look, you been carryin' a gun, haven't you—ever since they tried to snatch you three weeks ago? That gun was a Colt Automatic, wasn't it—a .32 Colt Automatic?"
She says yes.
"Now," I go on, "you tell me something. Where did you keep that gun?"
"I keep it in my handbag," she says. "I always carry it in my handbag."
"Right, Esmeralda," I say. "An' where was your handbag tonight?"
She looks surprised. "I hadn't it with me," she says. "I left it here when I went out. I forgot it."
"Right," I say, "you forgot it. Now why did you forget it?"
She waits for a minute; then she starts talkin'. "I brought the bag in here when I was getting ready to go out. I put it in its usual place—there on the writing desk. But while I was puttin' my wrap on, Mr. Gethrin asked me if I was still carryin' a gun. I said 'yes,' and he asked me if he could look at it. I told him it was in my bag, and he went over and opened the bag and took the automatic out and stood there in front of the desk, examining it. But he didn't put the bag back on the desk after he'd opened it. He put it on the end of the mantelpiece here. Just after this he said we must hurry off. I had the sort of feeling one has when one's forgotten something, and I looked around. If I'd seen the bag on the desk I should have remembered it, but not seeing it I forgot it and went off with him."
I grin at her. "You're a bit forgetful, aren't you, Esmeralda?" I say. "An' I suppose that Havley Gethrin knows that?"
She smiles. "Everyone knows it," she says.
"O.K.," I say. "Can I have a look at the bag?"
She gets up an' gets it off the mantelpiece an' gives it to me. It is a black bag, an' it matches the dress she was wearin'. Besides this, there ain't any gun in it.
"So the gun's gone," I tell her. "Maybe Gethrin put it down somewhere else. Let's have a look around."
She gets up an' starts lookin' around the room. It is a big room, an' I let her get over to the other side before I start lookin' behind things on my end of the mantelpiece. While she has got her back to me I slip the automatic outa my pocket—the one I found in Ricky's apartment—behind a flower-stand on the mantelpiece. Then I make out that I have just found it.
"Hey, Esmeralda," I say. "Here's the gun. I reckon that Havley Gethrin put it down here when he'd finished lookin' at it. This is it, ain't it?"
I hold it out towards her, but I don't let her get hold of it. I just hold it in the palm of my hand.
"That's the one," she says. "I expect Havley put it down there. Maybe he thought I ought not to carry a gun about over here."
I put the gun in my pocket. "An' maybe he's right," I say. "O.K., Esmeralda, that's all I wanted to ask you, an' I reckon we'll get our hooks on the killer right soon. Now, if I was you, I'd turn inta bed an' try an' forget all about this as much as you can. You need some sleep."
I get up an' shake hands with her an' scram.
Outside in the corridor, I wait for a minute, an' then I gumshoe along right to the end of the corridor, an' round the end on the wall I find a house telephone. I ring down to the hall porter an' ask him if he will tell me the number of Mr. Havley Gethrin's suite, an' he tells me—407C on the floor above.
I stick around there in the shadow until I see the door of Esmeralda's sittin'-room open an' she comes out an' goes along to her bedroom, which is on the other side of the corridor, after which I ease up the stairs an' go along to suite 407C.
I knock on the door, an' somebody says: "Come in."
I go in. I am in a sittin'-room with a communicatin' bedroom. Gethrin is in a dressing-gown, but dressed underneath, smokin' a cigar. He looks a bit surprise, as if he didn't expect to see me.
"And what can I do for you?" he says. He asks me to take a chair, an' he brings me over a whisky-an'-soda, English fashion. I take it an' I am durn glad of it.
"See here, Gethrin," I tell him. "I reckon that I don't haveta tell you that things don't look so good to me."
He goes over an' stands in front of the fireplace an' looks at me.
"How d'you mean, Caution?" he says. "You mean about Ricky being shot?"
"I don't mean just that," I tell him. "That's one thing, but the thing I'm worryin' about is this. I reckon that Ricky Vandellin was ironed out because some of that mob who snatched his sister thought he knew a bit too much. You'll remember that he was the guy who originally heard that an attempt was to be made.
"O.K. Well, I reckon that these palookas have come over here, an' I reckon that they're gonna try some more funny business.. To put it straight, I believe that they'll try another snatch over here. O.K. Well, they've got Vandellin outa the way, an' maybe they'll try to get you, too. All right, well I want to warn you to watch your step, an' I want you to do somethin' else for me. I've been talkin' with the English cops about this business an' they want you to carry a gun for a few days. So I brought one along for you."
I take out Esmeralda's gun an' I give it to him. "It's only a .32," I tell him, "but it's a nice size for the pocket. If anybody tries to get at you, you get him first."
I hold out the gun to him an' he takes it an' puts it in his hip pocket, under his dressin'-gown.
"That's swell of you, Caution," he says. "I'll watch my step. Thanks for the gun."
"An' look," I tell him. "Don't say anything about what I told you to Esmeralda or Meraline. I don't want 'em to worry, an' don't say I've asked you to carry that shootin' iron. It might bother 'em."
He grins. "I'll be as dumb as a clam," he says. "Say, have you people got any ideas about this business?"
"Plenty," I tell him, "an' by one or two things that these English cops have been tellin' me I think that we are gonna get this killer pretty good an' quick. I'm not gonna let myself worry too much about this Esmeralda snatch because as from tomorrow mornin' Herrick says that he's gonna keep her under observation the whole time, so she's safe."
He nods his head. I am watchin' him like a snake to see how he takes this, an' he takes it very well. He don't move an eyelid.
I get up. "Well, I reckon I gotta be gettin' along," I say. "So long, Gethrin. I'll be seein' you."
He says good-night, an' I scram.
I go down the stairs, an' I ease out along Pall Mall an' over to the Duke of York's steps. Right there is a Chrysler saloon that the De Vere Garage has sent around. I give the guy with it five shillin's an' tell him to scram. Then I get in the car an' drive it just around the corner so that I can watch the Carlton entrance.
I stick around there for about ten minutes. Then a big car shoots around the corner from Haymarket an' pulls up in front of the Hotel. I see the guy who's drivin' it slide outa the drivin' seat an' scram. A minute afterwards a guy comes outa the hotel entrance an' gets inta the car an' proceeds to step on it. He goes down Pall Mall like he was a sky-rocket.
I grin to myself, slip the clutch in, an' go after him, keepin' my distance so's he won't get wise. As we go up St. James' Street, I get out a cigarette, an' after a bit, usin' one hand, I get it alight. I am feelin' good. Tearin' down Piccadilly towards the park I grin some more.
Because the guy in the car is Havley Gethrin, an' I reckon that guy an' me is due for a show-down pretty soon.
THIS Gethrin is one helluva driver an' when he gets on to the Western Avenue he steps on it. I am feelin' pretty glad that I know this road—I hadda chase over it over the Van Zeldon case years ago—an' I know that this palooka has gotta ease down at the roundabouts. So I just tail along behind, keepin' a car between him an' me when I can, an' gettin' up close when we get on to the runs where I could lose him.
After a bit it is stickin' outa foot that he is makin' for Bourne End. I bet Mr. Havley Gethrin is goin' to Gelland's Place to keep a date with Squilla, an' if I'm wrong I'm gonna eat my fedora an' like it.
When he turns inta Bourne End I stick behind an' let him go. I am not takin' a chance that this guy should see me before I want him to. Way down at the end of the main road through the village I see the telephone box—the one that this Penn told me about—an' I pull up.
I go in the box an' I ring Meraline at the Carlton. I get her right away.
"Hey, honey, how're you goin'?" I say. "So you've managed to keep awake?"
She says yes, an' that she's worried about what's goin' on, an' what am I doin'?
"Don't you worry your little head, Meraline," I tell her, "I'm doin' fine. Right now I'm takin' a little ride in the country just to get my mind clear, an' looky, you can do somethin' for me. Directly I ring off I want you to call up Detective-Inspector John Herrick at Fulham 77432. Tell him that the Ricky Vandellin case is goin' along swell, an' that I'd be obliged to him if he'd do this little thing.
"I want him to concentrate a coupla Flyin' Squad cars at Bourne End. Tell 'em to stick under cover in the village an' tell 'em to stick around an' wait. They gotta make a contact with the local telephone box at the end of the street, so's if I want 'em I can ring through there from any place where I am. You can tell Herrick to step on it, because I reckon somethin's goin' to break good an' quick. You got all that?"
She says she's got it. She says she's worried about me, an' she don't want me to get shot up or anything. I say O.K., that that is the way I am feelin' myself, after which I say so long an' hang up.
I reckon that by this time Gethrin has got down to Gelland's Place, an' I only hope that he ain't gone in the back way an' seen Penn's car parked somewhere around there, otherwise he is liable to get suspicious.
I get back inta the car, an' I drive along until I find the turnin' that Penn spoke about. I go down along this, an' as I cannot see his car I reckon he has parked it some place where it'll be outa sight. Way down the turnin' I find the paddock gate. I turn my lights off, drive through, an' go across the grass in the direction of a clump of trees that are behind the house.
I stop the car behind a big bush an' get out. I start walkin' over to the trees, an' when I get there this Perm guy comes out from behind one of 'em an' says how do you do, an' that he's Penn an' he supposes that I am Lemmy Caution.
I tell him yes an' ask him what's been goin' on around here.
"Plenty," he says. "About five or six minutes ago a car drives in through the paddock gate. It drives right past here, an' through those trees an' up to the side of the house. The driver parked it alongside the other car—Squilla's car—an' went into the house. About a minute after that three men came out of the side door an' walked away across over past the left of the house. I don't know where they've gone."
I do a bit of thinkin'. "Where's the river?" I ask him.
He points over to the left.
"Now, looky, Penn," I tell him, "I'm goin' over there to have a look around, an' what you do is this. You ease over to them cars an' punch a hole in the petrol tank of Squilla's car. But don't touch the other car—the one that arrived last—because maybe I want that guy to make a getaway. An' when you fix Squilla's car you see that there's enough petrol in the carburettor for him to get started with. You'd better flood the carburettor an' then unscrew the valve on the petrol tank an' drain it nearly dry. Just leave enough for him to get away an' run for about a mile an' then konk out. Got that?"
He says: "O.K."
"All right," I tell him. "After you done that come back here an' stick around an' wait for me to come along an' tell you some more."
He says all right, an' I ease off an' start walkin' across the paddock over past the left of the house, keepin' in the shadow. Pretty soon I see the river. I get down to the bank an' when I am nearly opposite the end of the house which is about a quarter of a mile from the river, I see what I am lookin' for—a boathouse.
The boathouse is a swell sorta joint an' is built of brick an' is cut inta the bank about twenty yards off the river. I get down an' start crawlin' on my belly towards it. There ain't any light to be seen comin' outa the windows but when I get plenty close I can hear some guys talkin' inside nice an' quiet. Then I hear one of 'em give a laugh.
I crawl around this boathouse an' start lookin' at it on the other side. When I get upta one of the windows I see that there are some curtains or some-thin' put across 'em inside so's nobody can see in. I work along an' round to the river side.
Out of the boathouse is stickin' a long motor cruiser. She is so long that five or six feet of the stern is stickin' outa the boathouse. Hung down from the entrance is a big tarpaulin that is stretched across so I can't see nothin'.
I get on the boat an' start workin' along it. It is a helluva boat because most of the stern is engine, an' I reckon that this boat could go plenty if it wanted to. I ease along until I come to the tarpaulin, an' then I drop down on my belly again an' start raisin' the tarpaulin, an inch at a time. After a bit, with my head right down on the boat deck, I can see inside.
Sittin' in the boathouse, smokin', an' with two of 'em sittin' on the prow of the boat, is six guys. They look plenty tough to me. I only know one of 'em, an' that is a wop called Miguelo—Frankie. Miguelo—who usta carry a gun for Johnny Yellt in the old days. These guys are sittin' around, smokin' an' talkin', an' generally havin' a helluva time.
I pull my head back outa the tarpaulin an' proceed to tell myself just what I am for not havin' a gun with me, an' all because some guys has told me that you never haveta use one in this man's country. But I reckon that I gotta do somethin', an' I reckon that the fact that Frankie Miguelo won't think that I could be without a shootin' iron will get me through.
I take my fountain pen outa my vest pocket an' I knot up my handkerchief around the end to make a fake gun-butt, an' I then stick my pen an' the knotted handkerchief in my right-hand jacket pocket, holdin' it as if it was a gun.
I put my fingers under the tarpaulin an', actin' very quick, I pull it up an' step right underneath.
Miguelo, who is one of the guys sittin' on the prow of the boat, spins around.
"Stick 'em up, people," I tell 'em, "an' look lively, otherwise I'm gonna blast you thugs down like you was a lotta ole cats makin' a noise at night!"
Frankie puts his hands up. "Hell!" he mutters. "Caution!"
"You said it, sweetheart," I say, stickin' my right coat pocket at 'em, an' makin' out that I am movin' a gun in it. "Lemmy Caution, himself, in person, an' if I have one crack out of any of you guys, I'm gonna give it to you where it'll hurt plenty."
I walk along to the bows of the boat an' I give Frankie a kick in the backside that musta hurt good. "Snap off this boat," I tell him, "an' get busy tyin' these guys up. There's plenty rope about here. Another thing is tie 'em up good an' make it hurt. If a guy don't squeal while you're doing it I shall think that maybe you're tryin' some fast stuff, an' let you have a coupla ounces of lead in the guts just for old times' sake."
Frankie says a bad word at me, but he jumps off the boat an' starts tyin' these palookas up. They look at me like I was the devil himself, an' I reckon if any of 'em had known I was pullin' a fast one they woulda bust me down an' chucked me in the river pronto.
After a bit Miguelo finishes this job an' I tell him to come over to me. Just when he is up to me I bust him a crack on the schnozzle that coulda been heard twenty yards away. He drops down like he was pole-axed.
"O.K.," I tell these thugs. "It might interest you guys to know that I hadn't got no gun, but seein' that you're all roped up it don't matter now."
I get some more rope an' tie Frankie up good an' proper. All the whiles I am doin' it these guys are tellin' me just what I am an' just what they will do to me one of these days when they meet me out walkin'.
When I have tied Frankie so's he looks like he is a chicken ready for roastin' I chuck him down in the bows an' I ease along to the stern an' do a little examinin' of the engine of this cruiser. I get hold of a hammer that is lyin' in a tool box an' I smash the carburettor an' break down the petrol pipin', after which I go back an' talk to 'em.
"Now youse guys can all stay here nice an' quiet," I tell 'em. "I'll be sendin' for you pretty soon, an' you can do all the talkin' you want tomorrow—I reckon the cops here'll have plenty of questions."
I go around an' I frisk 'em. Every one of these babies is carryin' a rod, an' Frankie Miguelo has got two—one under his arm an' one on his hip. I take these guns an' I chuck 'em all in the river except a nice Mauser .38 automatic which belongs to Frankie, an' which I stick in the breast pocket of my coat. Then I go back to 'em.
"So long, you mugs," I tell 'em. "I'll be seein' you in the dock—or whatever they call it over here, an' whiles I'm away don't do or say anything that you wouldn't like your mothers to listen to!"
I scram. I get around the boathouse an' I start runnin' back across the paddock to where I left Penn. He is there sittin' underneath a tree smokin' a cigarette an' shieldin' the end with his hand.
"Didya fix Squilla's car, Penn?" I ask him.
He says yes. He's drained it off, an' left enough in the carburettor an' tank for it to go maybe a mile.
"Swell," I tell him.
"Now this is what you do pronto. Ease across this paddock an' outa the gate. Get back to that telephone box at Bourne End. Pretty soon some cops will be arrivin'—some Flyin' Squad guys. Maybe John Herrick'll be with 'em. Tell 'em that there is a bunch of thugs who was goin' to snatch Esmeralda Vandellin tied up in the boathouse on the river bank. Tell 'em to go an' collect 'em, an' after they've done that you can tell 'em to come up to the house. They'll find me there, an' maybe I'll have some news for 'em. You got all that?"
He says he has got it.
"Right," I tell him.
"Well, when you done that you can scram off, an' I reckon I'm gonna tell Fritzie Makrash that you've earned a raise. You done some sweet work tonight. But there is just one little thing more you can fix. When the cops come an' you're goin' just turn inta that call-box at Bourne End on your way back an' ring through to the Carlton Hotel to Miss Meraline Crane. Here's the hotel number, an' her room number."
I look at my watch. It is half-past three o'clock. "You tell her that I wanta talk to her," I go on, "an' you say that I want her to be at the De Vere Apartments some time tomorrow mornin', an' that she is not to talk to anybody about any of this case until she has seen me. Tell her to be over at my apartment at ten in the mornin'."
He says O.K. an' scrams.
I wait until he is outa the way, an' I cut through the trees an' start easin' over towards the house. It is all in darkness an' I can't see a light any place. I go up to the back keepin' in the shadow thrown by the trees. There is a big door here, but I can't do anything with it.
After a bit I ease around to the left an' there I find what I'm lookin' for. There is a french window that gives out on to a lawn that runs right down in the direction of the river. I get out my knife an' do some heavy work on this window, an' in a coupla minutes I have got it open. I step inta the room an' shut the window behind me.
There is a little bitta moon an' I can see on the other side of the room a door. I gumshoe over, open this door an' find myself in a passage. I walk along this passage for a bit an' I stand still an' listen. This place is as quiet as a burial ground, but after a bit I hear a sorta pop that sounds to me like somebody was drawin' a cork, an' it comes from upstairs.
I walk along the passage until I find on my right a wide windin' staircase. I start easin' up this, keeping against the wall. When I get on to the hallway of the floor above I can see another passage. At the end of this corridor there is a door half-open an' some light is comin' out. I slip my hand inta my breast pocket an' I pull out Miguelo's gun.
I start creepin' along towards the door, an' I am just congratulatin' myself that I have done a nice job of work when somebody sticks a gun in my back an' says:
"Put 'em up, sucker!" an' laughs.
I recognize the laugh. It is Squilla all right. He pushes me along to the door an' shoves me inta the room. It is a big well-furnished room—a sorta library. The heavy curtains are drawn all over the windows, an' sittin' down at a desk, pourin' himself out a whisky-an'-soda is Mr. Havley Gethrin. He swings around in his chair as we go in.
"Say, boss, look what I've found," says Squilla.
"If it ain't the little fly cop—the one an' only Lemmy Caution, an' if you'll watch me I'm gonna give him a smack for the pastin' he gave me at my place tonight."
He changes his gun to his left hand an' he gives me a bust behind the ear that knocks me flat. I get up to my feet.
"So what, Squilla?" I ask him. "Say you lousy heel, d'you think that sorta stuff is gonna get you any place?"
I turn around to the other guy. "Well, Francelli," I say, "how're you makin' out?" I grin. "It was a lovely front," I tell him. "Just fancy you, Francelli, as Havley Gethrin, a New York business man. I'm still laughin'."
He smiles a slow sorta smile. "Well, you laugh while the going's good, Caution," he says, "because it looks to me like the laugh's on you. So you were wise, hey? How long have you been wise to the fact that I was Francelli?"
"Pretty well since early tonight," I tell him. "It was stickin' out a foot. I reckon I got the whole of this story tied up, an' it's a sweet story, too."
He reaches out an' picks up a big silver box of cigarettes. He opens it an' brings it over to me. "Give yourself a cigarette, Caution," he says, "because maybe you won't be doing much more smoking."
I put it in my mouth, and he brings out a lighter an' lights it for me.
"Ain't you a little wise dick?" he says.
"You're tellin' me?" I crack back at him. "Mind you, Francelli, it was a swell idea. I reckon I got it all figured out this way. When old man Vandellin wouldn't give Ricky any dough, Ricky contacts Schraut an' suggests to Schraut that his mob snatch Esmeralda an' cut Ricky in on the ransom. I reckon the job was too big for Schraut, so he gets somebody to put the idea up to you, an' you improve on it. I reckon you made out that you was fallin' for the idea, but what you do is to pull a fake snatch on Long Island just to kid Ricky Vandellin that his idea was goin' through.
"Well, after that I reckon you had somethin' on him that you coulda made him pay for the rest of his life? Am I right?"
"Sure you're right, Caution," he says. "Ricky Vandellin was a mug. He wrote Schraut a letter. I got it in my pocket"—he taps his breast-pocket—"that letter's in his handwriting, and it proves that he put the original idea up to Schraut. I reckon we could have took him for plenty."
"I bet you could," I go on, "only it didn't work out that way, did it? O.K. The next thing you do is to suggest to this guy that he puts up a story to his father about bringin' Esmeralda over here so's she'll be safe. The old boy thinks it will be a swell idea, an' slips Ricky a bunch of money to pay for the trip. In the meanwhile Schraut gets the idea that he'd better have somebody hangin' around to watch his interests, so he suggests to you that this Squilla here comes over an' sticks around to see if he can be of any use. After this you get plenty of ideas about what you're goin' to do.
"The first thing you're gonna do is to blackmail Ricky Vandellin out of a bunch of that dough that his old boy gave him, an' havin' got next to Esmeralda on the way over and kidded this dame that you're in love with her, an' got her to trust you, I reckon the next move is to really snatch this dame —a proper snatch this time. Get her off some place an' then stick old man Vandellin for a whole stack of money to get her back again. Am I right?"
"Sweet figuring, Caution," he says. "You're dead right, and I'll tell you just how we're going to do it. I got a boat down here—a big motor cruiser—a swell craft. Well, the original idea was that Ricky Vandellin was going to bring Esmeralda down here to try out my new boat. We were going to slip her a nice little drink of Dutch drops to put her to sleep, run the boat down the river and up to the Nore, where a boat was going to meet us. French Fernandez, who is in on this job with me, has got his yacht waiting up there. Well, it didn't work exactly like that because Ricky Vandellin gets himself bumped off in the meantime. But that's the way it's going to work tomorrow."
He laughs. "I reckon Esmeralda will be glad to come down here," he says, "just so's she can forget about her brother's sad death, and when she gets down here we're going to stick her on that boat and carry out the job as originally planned. And how do you like that?"
"I think it's swell, Francelli," I say, "except that it won't happen."
He laughs again. "So it won't?" he says, gettin' up. "An' who's going to stop it? You—and who else?"
"I'll stop it, Francelli," I say. "Listen, big boy, you're dead from the neck up. If you send your little friend Squilla here down to the boathouse you'll find by the time he has got down there the cops are already there. I got that bunch of thugs who were sittin' around there so tied up it'll take a year to undo 'em. An' as for the motor-boat, I reckon I smashed enough of that engine to put her out of action for weeks. So where do we go from there?"
He looks at Squilla, an' he ain't lookin' pleased.
"Hey, Squilla," he says, "maybe this punk's four-flushing. I heard about him. He's got a sweet way of telling some lovely story when he's in a tight corner so as to get himself out of it.
"I reckon I'm going to check up on this. Look, get out by the side door and work down over the lawn towards that boathouse. Be careful that nobody sees you just in case what this punk says is true. If the cops ain't there leave those mugs down there tied up like they are. Let 'em pinch 'em. What do I care? And then you scram out of it, get back in your car and meet me—you know where."
He looks at me. "Even if I have to call this snatch off," he says, "I'm still doing good business, Caution. It might interest you to know that Squilla here collected twenty thousand bucks off Ricky Vandellin yesterday."
"You don't say!" I tell him. "That ain't bad goin', is it?"
Squilla gets ready to go. "What about this punk?" he says.
Francelli looks at him an' drops one eyelid. This guy has got the cruelest face I have ever seen.
"Til look after him," he says. "You get a move on, and scram down to that boathouse and check up."
"O.K., boss," says Squilla. "Til be seein' you."
He goes out.
I go to put my hands down.
"You keep 'em up," says Francelli. He puts his hand under his armpit an' he pulls a rod. Then he goes over an' picks up my gun off the floor where I dropped it when Squilla slugged me. After this he goes back an' sits down in the chair.
"I reckon you're feeling pretty pleased with yourself, Caution," he says. "I reckon you think that I'm all burned up just because I don't get away with this snatch—that is, supposing what you say is true. But that don't worry me. There'll be another chance, and if there ain't—well, I reckon there are plenty more ways of making money."
"An' you know 'em all," I say. I laugh.
"You're a wise guy," I tell him. "So wise that one of these fine days you'll be takin' a little walk from the death house to the chair. They tell me that seems the shortest walk a guy ever did. I'll buy myself a nice buttonhole the day they fry you, Francelli," I tell him.
He looks over at me. "You've got your nerve," he says.
"Maybe I have, an' maybe I haven't," I say, "but I reckon I got you where I want you."
"Yeah?" he says. "Who's got the gun, me or you?"
"Oh, I didn't mean that," I say. "You got the gun all right, but you can't use it."
He looks surprised. "Who says I can't?" he says. "You wait and see."
"O.K.," I tell him. "But the way I figure it is this. The cops over here ain't got anythin' on you, Francelli. If Squilla took some money off Ricky Vandellin for blackmail yesterday—well, that ain't got anythin' to do with you. As for the Esmeralda snatch—well, you ain't pulled it, so they ain't got that on you. That's why you won't shoot me. If you bump me you got a murder rap to face, an' this is a hard country to get out of once you kill a guy."
He laughs, but I can see that I have got his brain workin'.
"You ain't so bad, Caution," he says. "I reckon you got brains, but not too many. Say, tell me something," he says. "Did you know I was Francelli when you was doing that big act with me tonight at the Carlton Hotel—the time you said you thought some thugs had bumped Ricky Vandellin off, and that I might be the next guy—when you gave me that gun of Esmeralda's?" He taps his hip-pocket. "What did you want to do that for, smart guy?" he says.
"I was just fakin'," I tell him. "Just playin' along, you know." I put my hands down. He don't take any notice.
"Well, I reckon that what I have said is true, Francelli," I say. "If you've got any sense you're gonna make a deal with me an' get out while the goin's good. But if you iron me out they'll have you as sure as shootin'."
He looks up. "And what sort of deal could I make with you, and why should I deal with you, you lousy flat-foot?"
"Well, work it out," I say. "There'll be cops bustin' in here any minute. Now my proposition's this. I'll take ten thousand of that twenty thousand you took off Ricky Vandellin an' you can scram. When the cops come I'll say that when I came up here there wasn't no one here. Look," I tell him, "this is the way I figure it."
I make some gestures with my hands as if I was gonna explain somethin', an' move a coupla steps forward. He don't take any notice; he is too busy thinkin' about what I have said. Just for one moment he brings the barrel down from pointin' at me, and at that moment, I go for him head first, an' I am lucky. I am on him before he has time to get the gun up. I hit him so hard that he crashes over the back of the revolving chair on to the floor with me on top of him, an' we mix it.
I'm tellin' you that this Francelli is a big guy, an' is strong, an' all the time he is tryin' to get the gun round so that he can use it, but I have got hold of his wrist, an' I am fairly strong myself. One time I had a chance to smack him right out, but I didn't use it, because I reckon I don't want this guy knocked out.
After a bit I get a neck-lock on him. I twist him over so that he's underneath me an' start pushin' back his wrist—the one with the gun in it. I get the heel of my hand underneath his chin an' push it back. The guy is gettin' hurt plenty. After a minute his fingers unloose an' he drops the gun. I grab it. Then I get up.
"You're out of trainin', Francelli," I say. "One of these fine days somebody is gonna smack you down so that you don't get up. Now stand over there by the door an' put your hands up, an' I wouldn't move if I was you, otherwise this gun might go off."
I walk over to the window an' I pull the curtains. I can look right over the lawn to the boathouse. There is a patch of moonlight on the lawn, an' after a minute I see Squilla scram across this patch like the devil is after him. A minute later we hear his car start up. I turn around an' put the gun in my pocket.
"Well, Francelli," I say. "It's all over. The cops are down at the boathouse."
He does just what I know he will do. He drops his hands and shoots through the doorway. I hear him rush down the passage, down the stairs, an' a coupla minutes afterward I hear his car roar away.
I give myself a cigarette outa the box. I reckon that everything is workin' out swell.
I reckon that I have gotta move quick. I ease over to the window an' stand behind the curtain lookin' at the boathouse. After a minute I see some figures runnin' across the bottom of the paddock towards the boathouse. I reckon that this will be Herrick an' the Flyin' Squad boys.
I scram over to the desk an' take a piece of paper an' write a note to Herrick. Like this:
Dear Herrick,
Havley Gethrin is Francelli. Him and Squilla have just smacked me down and got outa here. But I don't think that Squilla can get far because he seemed to have trouble getting his car away. Get the boys after him. I reckon he'll make for the main road.
I'm after Francelli. I got an idea where I can find him, and I reckon I'll be able to let you know where pretty soon. You stick around here at the telephone and wait for me to ring you, and I reckon we'll have all this bezusus cleaned up in no time.
So long, John,
Lemmy Caution.
I leave this note lyin' right in the middle of the floor where it can be seen easy. Then I turn on the other electric lights in the room, an' pull back the curtains from the windows so that when Herrick an' the cops are through in the boathouse they will come along up here.
Then I scram. I get outa the house by the front door, an' I work around the shrubbery and back into the paddock. I go over to my car where I left it behind the bush. I get in, start it up an' ease slowly down the paddock, keepin' in the shadow of the wall, an' get out inta the back turnin'. Then I step on it. When I go through Bourne End I can see the two Squad cars parked against the telephone box, but there ain't anybody with 'em, an' so nobody sees me.
I am makin' for the Last Card, the roadhouse where Johnny Penn told me Squilla stopped. It is stickin' outa foot that Squilla stopped there to find out where he could contact Francelli, an' they told him to go on to Gelland's Place. So it looks like this Last Card dump will be some headquarters for Francelli, an' he will go back there because he will expect Squilla will go there. I reckon that Squilla has got the twenty thousand he took off Ricky an' Francelli will stick around until he gets it. Francelli will be waitin' for Squilla to show up an' won't be expectin' me—which is very swell.
I step on it an' drive like hell. Pretty soon I come to a main road, an' I go down this till I strike a coffee-stall. I pull up an' ask the guy if he knows a dump called the Last Card, an' he says yes, an' tells me where it is; but he says it ain't no good my goin' there because it closes down at two o'clock. I say thanks a lot an' scram.
I turn off where he tells me an' go like hell, an' fifteen minutes later I see this dump. It is layin' back in some grounds off the main road, an' it looks like a private house that has been rebuilt an' turned into a night dump.
I leave my car around at the side, an' I get over a wall an' start easin' around to the back. I can't see any lights or any signs of anybody bein' about, but this fact don't worry me at all. Around the back I find a sorta tool-shed, an' above it is a little window. I get up on the roof of the shed, an' after a bit I get the window open an' get through.
I am in a staircase hallway. I look down the stairs to the ground floor, but I can't see or hear anything, so I decide I will go upstairs. Round the staircase at the top is a banister rail leadin' to a corridor, and along at the end of the corridor is a door, wide open, an' the room inside is lit up.
I gumshoe along the corridor an' look through the crack in the door. The room is a sorta office place, an' Francelli is sittin' at a table put across the far corner of the room facin' the door from an angle. He is packin' some papers an' puttin' 'em in a suitcase that is open on the table in front of him.
I pull the gun out, put it in my side coat-pocket with my hand on it an' give a cough. Then I put on a hoarse voice an' say: "Howdy, boss!"
He looks up, "Hey, Squilla...." he starts, an' I step around inta the room. His mouth opens. This guy is plenty surprised.
"Hey, Francelli," I say. "How're you makin' out? I bet you didn't expect to see me around here!"
He sits there lookin' at me. I reckon that if I'm gonna play this thing the way I want it played I have gotta be durn careful, otherwise I am gonna get myself ironed out, I have got both my hands in my coat pockets, an' my right hand is around the gun, but in my pocket with my finger on the trigger an' the muzzle pointin' down so that it don't look as if I'm holdin' a gun.
"Well, Francelli?" I tell him. "So you're all washed up. You're a lousy heel, an' I'll be glad when they hang you—that's what they do over here, you know, an' they don't make any mistakes about it, neither."
He grins. "What've they got on me to string me up for, Clever?" he asks.
I do a little grinnin'. "Killin' Ricky Vandellin," I say. "You was the guy who shot Vandellin, an' I know it."
"You're a lousy liar," he says. "I never ironed that guy out. Why...."
I see his hand droppin' towards the table drawer, an' I reckon he has got a gun in there. I make out I don't see anything an' I go on talkin'.
"They can hang it on you all right," I say, "an' you can bet your sweet life they will, especially when they hear what I gotta say. You see, Francelli," I go on, "I'm the star witness in this case, an' the funny thing is this. When I went around to see Squilla tonight he told me a punk story about what had happened, and the reason why he went round to see Ricky Vandellin.
"It was a lot of lousy lies, an' he made it up to stop me gettin' at the truth. But he's gotta stick to that story, an' that story is gonna hang you—that, an' what I gotta say. You see, big boy, Squilla said that some mysterious guy 'phoned him to go round an' meet him at Ricky Vandellin's flat. Now the time of that 'phone call coincides with the time you left Esmeralda at the Green Grill in Regent Street. So my story is this:
"You leave her at the table, an' you go out an' you 'phone this mug Squilla to meet you at Ricky Vandellin's place. Then you jump a cab, an' you go round to Vandellin's place an' do a little talkin' with him. Then you shoot him an' you scram out. You know the hall janitor ain't on duty downstairs, but you reckon that he will be by the time Squilla arrives, your idea bein' that Squilla is gonna get pinched for bumpin' Ricky Vandellin off. Well, maybe that ain't true; but it's good enough, and it's gonna hang you, unless ..."
"Unless what?" he says, an' I can see that he is startin' very slowly to open the drawer in front of him.
"Unless this," I tell him. "I reckon you got the twenty thousand that was took off Ricky. Well, you hand it over, an' maybe I'll keep my mouth shut."
His eyes light up, an' I can see the big idea come into his head. I know he ain't got the twenty thousand, because I reckon Squilla has hung on to this. But it's good enough for me.
"That's a deal, Caution," he says. "I'll give you the dough now. I got it here in the drawer."
He pulls the drawer open. As he puts his hand inside I push up the muzzle of the gun in my right-hand coat pocket. As I do this he pulls the gun outa the drawer an', as I see his hand go up, I jump sideways an' fire twice through my coat pocket. I get him as he fires. He flops down across the table. He is as dead as mutton because I have got him twice through the pump.
I stand there looking at him. I reckon the best thing I ever done in my life was to shoot this guy. I reckon that the number of palookas—men an' women—that he has had bumped in his time could fill a coupla graveyards.
I move quick. I go over to him an' take the gun outa his hand. I put it in my hip-pocket, an' there sure as shootin' is Esmeralda's gun—the one I gave him earlier in the evening. I take this gun out, holdin' it with my handkerchief, pull the ammunition clip out, take out one shell an' put it in my pocket. This means that there are two shells missin' in the gun. Then, holdin' the gun by the barrel, I put it inta his hand so's it looks as if the two shots he fired came outa that gun. I then look around in the wall where the two bullets have gone that he fired outa his own gun. Both these bullets have gone in good an' deep, an' the bullet-holes are in the shadow, an' nobody is gonna see 'em anyway.
There is a telephone over in the corner. I go over, ring up enquiry, an' ask for the number of Gelland's Place. After a bit I get it. I hear Herrick's voice speakin' to me.
"Well, Lemmy," he says, "how're you making out? We've got Squilla all right. How's Francelli?"
"I'm durned sorry, John," I say, "but I hadta shoot this guy. I reckoned that he would go to this Last Card roadhouse—I got an idea that it was the mob's headquarters over here. When I got in the place he was waitin' for me with a gun. So I hadta give him a couple."
"That's too bad," he says. "But it's going to save us a lot of trouble."
"You're tellin' me," I say. "I reckon you might get over here right away, John, because I got this case sewed up in the bag. Francelli shot Ricky Vandellin all right. The gun he tried to use on me was a .32 Colt automatic, and I bet when we check on it we'll find it is Esmeralda's gun."
"Good work, Lemmy," he says. "I'm coming right along now."
It is six o'clock in the mornin', an' Herrick an' me are drinkin' a whisky-an'-soda in his flat in Fulham Road.
"You know, Lemmy," he says, "you're not a bad sleuth even if you are tough."
"Well, this case was easy," I say, "an' if you'll check up on it, you'll find that everything works out. Here's what happened. When Squilla came over here his job was to await instructions from Francelli. So Francelli leaves Esmeralda at dinner, goes an' rings up Squilla an' tells him to go round to Ricky Vandellin's flat. He does this so that he can frame Squilla with the murder charge. What does Squilla matter to him? O.K. He knows it's gonna take Squilla a good half an hour to get round to Vandellin's place. He jumps in a cab an' he gets there himself in six or seven minutes. He shoots Ricky Vandellin with a gun he's taken out of Esmeralda's bag, but what he don't realize is that one of the spangles has come off her dress an' stuck to his coat. This is the spangle I found on the floor.
"All right. He has fixed to do this job at a time when he knew that the hall janitor would be off having his supper. He knew this because he'd found it out from Ricky Vandellin in the course of conversation. When he's bumped Ricky, he scrams an' goes back to Esmeralda.
"Some time afterwards Squilla arrives. He goes inta the flat, because Francelli has left the outer door off the latch. When Squilla gets in he sees Ricky Vandellin is dead, an' reckons he'd better get out of it good an' quick. But you bet he ain't gonna tell me that when I go round to see him. He has got to admit that he's been there because he knows that I saw him come out, so he says the only thing he can say. He says that Ricky was alive when he left.
"Well, so long, John," I tell him. "Are you gonna want me at the inquest on this mobster?"
"There's no need, Lemmy," he says. "We've got all the evidence we want, an' I know that your solution is the one. Besides the gun proves all we want to know."
Outside I do a little grin. Then I jump a cab. I reckon it would be a good idea if I had a little rest before breakfast.
At ten the janitor 'phones me from downstairs that Miss Meraline Crane would like to see me. I say she is to be brought up to my drawin'-room.
"That was a swell job you did last night, Meraline," I tell her, "gettin' through on the 'phone to Herrick an' gettin' him an' the boys down to that dump. I reckon it saved my life."
"Listen, Lemmy," she says. "I've got to tell you something. I've got to tell you ..."
"You don't haveta tell me anything, Meraline," I say. "If you wanta tell me that you killed Ricky Vandellin, I reckon I knew it from the start. But that don't haveta worry you. I got a perfect case framed against the late Havley Gethrin, otherwise Bugs Francelli, the mobster who was out to snatch Esmeralda."
She looks at me with her eyes poppin'. "But I don't understand, Lemmy."
"It wasn't too difficult," I tell her. "I took a chance last night an' let him have a coupla shots at me, an' then I killed him. I stuck Esmeralda's gun in his hand, an' that sewed up the case against him. There was a lotta circumstantial evidence that pointed his way, too."
"But how did you know it was me, Lemmy?" she asks.
"Just by keepin' my ears open," I tell her. "When I first saw you at the Carlton Hotel I remembered you askin' the bell-hop if Esmeralda had left, because she'd left her bag behind. I heard Ricky Vandellin say that he was comin' back after I was gone to pick you up, so I figured it out this way:
"As all you guys were gonna meet later an' go dancin' at the Savoy, I reckon that directly I'd gone—that is about twenty-five minutes to ten—you tried to 'phone through to Ricky to find out why he hadn't come back for you."
"That's right, Lemmy," she says, "but how did you know that?"
"Well, work it out, baby," I tell her, "for yourself. When I asked you afterwards you told me that you'd 'phoned through to Ricky, but you couldn't get any reply. Well, the reason you couldn't get a reply was that his 'phone was switched down to the hall janitor's desk, an' so he couldn't hear it in his room. Well, if the hall janitor didn't answer, then you must have 'phoned during the time he was off—that was between nine-twenty-five and ten o'clock.
"I left the Carlton soon after nine-thirty. Now, if you'd phoned after ten o'clock the 'phone was switched an' John Herrick woulda answered you, so I know you'd 'phoned before ten, an' I knew that if you 'phoned to Ricky an' you didn't get a reply you'd go round there. I knew Esmeralda hadn't been in that apartment. I knew that Francelli hadn't been in that apartment, because when he left Esmeralda at dinner he didn't go out to 'phone Squilla. He went to meet him an' give him his instructions. Francelli wouldn'ta gone along to see Ricky. Squilla was the guy who was supposed to do the shake down.
"All right, then how did the spangle get in the flat? Directly I saw that bag when I came to the Carlton last night I remembered what you said about it. I knew you'd pick it up to take it to Esmeralda an' that you'd been in that flat. When you didn't get any answer to that 'phone call you start worryin' about Ricky. You wonder if he's gettin' drunk round at the Blenheim Arms, so you put your things on an' you pick up Esmeralda's bag, which is also covered with spangles to match her frock, an' you go round to see Ricky. You go upstairs to his apartment, an' when you try the front door you find it open an' you step inside.
"An' then I reckon you get the surprise of your life, because from the drawin'-room opposite through the half-closed door you can hear Squilla shaking down Ricky Vandellin for twenty thousand, an' tellin' him that if he don't come across they're gonna blow the works that Ricky was in on the original Esmeralda snatch. I reckon this shook you plenty. You don't know what to do. Then you see the room on the right of the drawin'-room. You go in there an' you wait. You hear Ricky cough up the twenty thousand, an' Squilla goes.
"Then you go inta the drawin'-room, an' you tell Ricky all about it. Under your arm you have got Esmeralda's bag, an' in it is the gun. Now," I say, "you tell me what happened then."
"There was a fearful scene, Lemmy," she says. "I was so disgusted and amazed at Ricky's vile conduct that I could hardly speak. I told him he was very nearly a murderer, and that he ought to be put in prison, and I said that I was going straight back to tell Esmeralda the truth. He said I wasn't; he said he'd kill me first. When I turned he took up the poker from the fireplace and stood in front of the door. He said he'd brain me with it before he'd let me give him away.
"Then I remembered Esmeralda's pistol. I opened the bag and took it out. I said that unless he stood away from the door I'd shoot him. I didn't mean it, of course, but he thought I did. He backed round the room until he was standing in front of the settee, but, as I was turning to go and lowered my hand holding the pistol, he sprang at me with the poker in his hand. He was going to kill me.
"I don't know what happened. In my excitement I must have pulled the trigger. All I know is that he fell back on to the settee and the poker fell out of his hand. I put it back in the fireplace and turned to run from the apartment, but as I was about to open the front door I heard someone come along the corridor...."
"An' that somebody was me," I say. "An' you didn't know what to do. So you went back to the room where you'd hid while Ricky an' Squilla was talkin'. You stood behind the door. You put the gun back in Esmeralda's bag, but you were so het up that you'd got the bag held upside-down under your arm, and you didn't hear the gun fall out on to the thick pile carpet where I found it. An' I'll tell you what made me think that the gun had fallen out of a handbag."
I put my hand in my vest pocket an' I bring out the nickel that I found on the floor. I show it to her.
"Dames always carry a nickel in their bags in the States," I say, "just in case they wanta telephone. An' while I was lookin' at Ricky an' telephonin' through to Herrick you slipped outa the apartment," I go on. "You get downstairs an' nobody saw you because it was only a coupla minutes later that the night janitor come back on duty. I reckon you jumped a cab an' you went back to the Carlton, an' I reckon you was worried about Ricky. You didn't know what had happened to him. So, after worryin' for an hour an' getting all steamed up, you get in a cab an' go back there, but when you arrive you meet John Herrick who is just comin' down, an' he tells you that you can't go up because Ricky is dead. Which is a pretty good break," I say, "because he naturally thinks that this is the first time you've been around there.
"Listen, lady," I tell her, "you don't haveta worry about anything. Two lousy heels—Ricky Vandellin an' Francelli, one of whom was a cheap mobster an' a murderer, an' the other one a lousy playboy who was prepared to trade his own sister to a gang—are dead. You just been an instrument of justice, that's all—an' so have I."
I look inta her eyes. For the first time I see a little smile there.
"Don't worry your head, baby," I tell her, "because I've got a big date for you. You an' me is goin' to have lunch with John Herrick, an' he's goin' to tell you just how I solved the Ricky Vandellin killin'—just how I proved that Ricky Vandellin was shot by Bugs Francelli."
"G-Man at the Yard,"
Ace Books paperback reprint
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
Go to Home Page
This work is out of copyright in countries with a copyright
period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
Original content added by RGL (e.g., introductions, notes,
RGL covers) is proprietary and protected by copyright.