The Golden Gizmo Page 8

  “I do, huh?” Airedale took a sip of milk. “Who says so?”

  “Yes—you—do! And I say so. And you know why I say it.”

  “She’ll have to do her time?”

  “Naturally. Part of it, anyway; until the heat goes off.”

  “Heat,” said Airedale, sourly. “Nine grand he takes off of me last year and still we got heat. Maybe I ought to fix through a beat cop. Or one of them guys that cleans out the washroom. Maybe they could earn their money.”

  Councilman Klobb spread his hands. “That’s not being reasonable, Airedale,” he said reproachfully. “The lid’s been off now for well over eighteen months. Almost two years now without the slightest kind of rumble. I can’t help it if we have an opposition party and they squeeze out from under once in a while. Frankly, I wouldn’t have it any other way and I know you wouldn’t. It’s what makes America great—competition—unceasing struggle—”

  Airedale groaned. “Unceasing horseshit. Put it away, will you? Save it for the Fourth of July.”

  “You’ll have her there?”

  “If it has to be her. We couldn’t throw ’em another chump?”

  “Of course not. Twenty-three arrests in a year and she’s never laid out a day. She’s the one they’ll tie into. You know what’ll happen when they do. Good God, man, do I have to draw you a picture?”

  He didn’t have to, of course. Airedale had known what to expect from the moment Elaine’s name had been mentioned.

  In many cities, bail is set to approximate the fine for a misdemeanor, and its forfeiture automatically closes the case. Usually, however, often in those places where the practice is most thoroughly entrenched, there are periods when it becomes inoperative. Bail then gives the lawbreaker his freedom only until court is held. And if he fails to appear he is considered a fugitive.

  This, as Airedale well knew, must not be allowed to happen in Elaine’s case. Obviously, the political opposition intended to use her as a broom in a thoroughly unpleasant house-cleaning. This woman, they’d say—they’d shout—has forfeited almost two thousand dollars in bonds. Where is that money? What is there to show for it? What besides a parcel of land which has already been obligated for twenty times its appraised value?

  Airedale shook his head ruefully. To stave off an investigation, Elaine would have to face court on charges which, under adverse circumstances, could total up to months in jail and/or several thousand dollars in fines. She’d be sore as hell—which didn’t trouble Airedale in the least. Toddy would be sore—and that did trouble him. Toddy had laid his money on the line. Now he wouldn’t get anything for it. Airedale would return the dough he had paid, of course, but that wouldn’t help much. Once a rap was squared, it was supposed to stay squared.

  “How about this?” he said. “Can’t we get our paper back and put up the cash in its place?”

  “Would I be here if we could?” Klobb demanded. “Can’t you see they planned this so we wouldn’t have time to squeeze out?”

  Airedale nodded. For Elaine to face court was bad, but the alternative was indescribably worse: to face it himself.

  “Okay. I don’t like it, but okay. She’ll be there.”

  “Good.” Councilman Klobb stood up. “Better get her on the phone right now, hadn’t you?”

  “Get her on the phone,” mocked Airedale. “Yessir, that’s all I need to do; just tell her to go down and turn herself in.”

  “But…” Klobb frowned. “Oh, I see.”

  “Do you see that door?” said Airedale.

  Klobb saw it. Rather hastily, he put it to use. Airedale began to dress.

  Some fifteen minutes later he stepped out of a cab at Toddy’s hotel and went inside. He was acquainted with the room clerk. He was acquainted with practically everyone in a certain stratum of the city’s society. The clerk winked amiably, and extended a hand across the counter.

  “How’s it goin’, boy? Who you looking for?”

  “Might be you, you pretty thing,” said Airedale. “But I’ll settle for Toddy Kent.”

  “Kent? I’m not sure that he’s regis—Oh,” said the clerk, glancing at the bill in his hand. “Yeah, we got him. Want me to give him a buzz?”

  “Not now. Is his key in his box?”

  “That don’t mean nothing. People here carry their keys mostly. He should be in, though, him and the missus both. I ain’t seen ’em go out.”

  Airedale deliberated. He had a deputy sheriff’s commission but he was reluctant to use it. It was always much better, particularly when you were dealing with a friend, to have someone else do the strong-arm work.

  “Where’s old lardass, the demon house dick?”

  “Up with some broad, probably. No, there he is,”—the clerk pointed—“in stuffing his gut.”

  Airedale glanced toward the coffee shop. “Okay, I’ll drag him out. About three minutes after you see us catch the elevator, you ring hell out of Kent’s phone.”

  Airedale got hold of Kennedy, the house detective, and together they went upstairs. They stopped at Toddy’s door. Almost immediately the phone began to ring. It rang steadily for what must have been a full two minutes. There was no other sound, either then or after it had stopped.

  Airedale raised his fist and pounded. He stood aside, and nodded to Kennedy. The house dick gripped the doorknob with one hand; with the other he poised a peculiarly notched key before the keyhole. He slowly turned the knob and pushed gently. He dropped the key back into his pocket, drew out a shot-weighted blackjack, and abruptly flung the door open.

  “Okay,” he growled, “come out of it!” Then, after a moment’s wait, he went in and Airedale followed him.

  They looked in the bathroom, the closet and under the bed. Panting from the unaccustomed activity and his recent meal, Kennedy dropped into a chair and fanned his face with his hat.

  “Well,” he said, “they ain’t here.”

  “No kidding,” said Airedale.

  Airedale went to the window and looked out. He looked down at the once-white enameled sill—at the streaked outline of a heelprint.

  Kennedy said, “She gave ol’ Toddy a little more than he would take tonight. Boy, you could hear her yelling a block away!”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m tellin’ you, Airedale. It sounded like he was killin’ her. If I’d had my way he’d of gone ahead and done it.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “Gave him a ring. She’d already shut up by then, though, and there wasn’t another peep after that.”

  Airedale stared in unwinking silence, and the house detective shifted uncomfortably. “Guess they must of gone out,” he remarked, averting his eyes from the bondsman’s liquid brown gaze. “Must of.”

  Absently scratching his nose, Airedale started for the window again, and his protruding elbow struck against the stack of the incinerator. He leaped back with a profane yell. Kennedy roared and pounded his knee.

  “Oh, J-Jesus,” he laughed. “You should of seen yourself, Airedale!”

  “What the hell is this?” Airedale demanded. “A hotel or a crematory? What you got a goddam furnace goin’ for in weather like this?”

  Panting, shaking with laughter, the house detective explained the nature of the stack. Airedale made a closer examination of it. He kicked it. He removed a wisp of hair from the clamp. He measured the stack with his eye, and knew unwillingly that it was quite large enough…to hold a woman’s body.

  …Strolling back toward his hotel, he considered the smog through doggish eyes, reflecting, unsentimentally, that Elaine was doubtless part of it by now. That would be like her, to remain a nuisance even in death. Certainly it had been like her to get herself killed at such a completely inopportune time. When she failed to show in the morning, the cops would come after her. They’d do a little investigating, a little talking here and there, and the dragnet would go out for Toddy.

  There was an all-night drugstore on the next corner. Airedale went in, entered a telephone booth and cl
osed the door firmly behind him. He consulted a small black notebook and creased a number therein with his thumbnail. Fumbling for a coin, he checked over the contemplated project for possible pitfalls.

  Fingerprints? No, they’d gotten her prints on her first arrest, and they hadn’t bothered with them since. Pictures? No, they already had her mug, too, the newspapers and the police. And as long as she showed up in court—a woman of about the same age and size and coloring—Yeah, it could be done all right. Hundreds of women were in the Los Angeles courts every week. Elaine would draw the interest of papers and police only if she didn’t show up.

  Airedale dropped a slug into the coin box and dialed a number:

  “Billie?”—he stared out through the door glass—“Airedale. How’s it goin’?…Yeah? Well, it’s slow all over, they tell me.…How’d you like a cinch for a while?…Oh, a buck—no, I’ll make it a buck and a half.…Sure, don’t you understand English? A hundred and a half a week.…Well, I’ll have to talk it over with you personally. I don’t like to kick it around on the phone…Expenses? Sure, you get ’em, Billie girl. Board and room…absolutely free.”

  13

  Toddy stared at the girl stonily. That reluctance of hers, the way she’d seemingly made Alvarado drag the story out of her, had been very well done. He’d almost believed for a moment that she was on his side. And now she’d lied. It had to be a lie. Either that or it was about time to wake up. It was time to give himself a pinch, put on his clothes, and go out for coffee.

  With the body there in the room, the murder made sense. It put a frame on him like a Mack truck. Without the body, it was just plain damned screwy. It was nuts with a plus sign.

  “Well, Mr. Kent?” Alvarado grinned satirically.

  Toddy shook his head. “I’ve said all I’ve got to say.”

  “I see. Dolores, you will remain here. You, Mr. Kent, in front of me and through that door. I think you will be interested to see our basement.”

  “Wait!” The girl’s voice was a sharp whisper. “Perrito, Alvarado! The dog!”

  Alvarado looked. His gaze moved sufficiently from Toddy to take in the front door. He asked a soft question in Spanish.

  “¿Hombres, Perrito? ¿Sí, hombres?”

  Eyes shining with excitement, the dog took a few prancing steps toward him. His jaws waggled with the effort to articulate.

  “¡Bueno, perro!” said Alvarado. “Stand!”

  The dog became a statue—a waist-high ebony menace pointed motionlessly toward the door. “The lights, Dolores…”

  Alvarado moved behind Toddy, jabbed and held the gun against his back. The lights went off. Dead silence settled over the room.

  It was like that for minutes. Absolute silence except for the restrained whisper of their breathing. Then, distantly, from outside and overhead, came a soft ping. That, the cutting of the telephone wire, ended the silence. Having removed their sole danger, or so they thought, the prowlers were actually noisy.

  There was a scraping of feet against wood, a noisy thud. Footsteps clattered across the porch. A whining, scratching sound marked the slashing of the screen.

  The door shivered. The knob turned, and out of the darkness came a profane expression of pleased surprise. Feet scuffled. The door clicked shut again.

  The lights went on.

  Shake and Donald stood side by side on the threshold. Their eyes blinked against the light. Then they ceased to blink, grew wider and wider in their greenish-white faces.

  “J-j-j-jjjjj…” said Donald.

  Shake’s pudding head wobbled helplessly. Oscillating, he sagged back against the door.

  Alvarado’s icy voice snapped him ludicrously erect.

  “Take three steps forward! Now lock your arms behind you! Dolores—” He jerked his head.

  The girl went in back of the two men. She searched them with contemptuous efficiency. Donald, of course, was equipped with his long thin-handled knife. From Shake’s hip pocket she withdrew a man’s sock, weighted and knotted together at the top. She was about to toss it to the floor when Alvarado held out his hand.

  “If you please…” He hefted the sock, grinning at the two thugs as he moved slightly away from Toddy. “The chicken claws, eh—the sock loaded with broken glass. To what do I owe this honor, gentlemen?”

  “It—that don’t really hurt mister,” Shake blurted foolishly. “W-we wouldn’t—”

  “I am familiar with its possibilities. I wonder if you would still maintain it doesn’t hurt if I should swing it vigorously against your crotch?”

  Shake turned a shade greener.

  Donald pointed an angrily indignant finger at Toddy. “He’s the guy you ought to do it to, mister! He got us to come here!”

  “Did he, indeed?”

  “Just ast him if he didn’t! Told us they was an old lady livin’ here all by herself—an old crippled dame with a pile of jewelry!”

  “That’s just what he done, sir,” Shake chorused righteously. “Got us to give him two hundred dollars for tippin’ us off.”

  Alvarado glanced quizzically at Toddy. Toddy shrugged.

  “I see. You,”—nodding at Donald—“is that what you were discussing with him earlier this evening?”

  “It ain’t all we was discussing.” Donald eyed Toddy venomously. “What we was really discussing was murder. We—that’s how we happened to make the deal with him. He killed his wife and he needed the money to blow town on.”

  “Oh, now,” Alvarado laughed. “Murder his wife? I find that hard to believe. Doubtless he only told you that as a means of obtaining your money.”

  “I tell ya, he killed her! Anyways,” Donald qualified reluctantly, “she got killed. She was layin’ on the bed—right there in his hotel room!”

  Alvarado made a sound of disbelief. “He invited you up to pay your respects, I suppose? At what time was this?”

  “Right around six-thirty. An’, no, he didn’t invite me up there! I sneaked up while he was out, see? I was gonna cut him up when he came back.”

  He babbled on eagerly, anxious to make the evidence against Toddy as damning as possible. Shake tried to interrupt him once; he seemed to sense that there was much more here than met the eye. A cold word from Alvarado, however, and Shake was reduced to flabby quaking silence.

  Donald concluded the recital with a vicious leer at Toddy.

  Slowly, the chinless man turned to the girl. “Well?”

  “I told you what I saw. There is nothing more I can say.”

  “So,” sighed Alvarado, “we are confronted with two contradictory truths. Apparently contradictory, I should say. I wonder…But we must not bother these gentlemen with our petty problems. They are obviously men of large affairs. We must speed them on their way—with, of course, some small memento of their visit.”

  He moved, smiling, toward the two. “You would like to leave it that way, gentlemen? After all, breaking and entering is a very serious crime.”

  They nodded vigorously.

  Alvarado’s smile vanished. “I will do you a favor. Turn around!”

  “B-but—”

  “I withdraw the favor!” He swung the sock—once, twice. He dropped it and grabbed the dog by the collar. “The blood scent arouses him, gentlemen. I advise you to run very fast.”

  They stared at him stupidly; dazed, not grasping his meaning. The blows had reddened their faces. There was no other sign of their impact.

  Then it came, the blood. It spurted out from ten thousand pinpoint fountains, formed into hideous red-threaded masks. The dog snarled and lunged.

  “Quickly!” snapped Alvarado, and there was no doubting the urgency of his voice.

  Shake and Donald came alive simultaneously. They hurled themselves at the door and wedged there. Clawing and cursing hysterically, they broke free. They stumbled and fell down the steps. The sound of their frantically pounding footsteps receded and vanished into the night.

  Alvarado closed the door and stood with his back to it. He smiled at Toddy a
s he delivered a firmly admonitory kick in the dog’s ribs.

  “I seem to owe you an apology, Mr. Kent. I wonder if you will be generous enough to forgive and forget—if, in short, you are still of a mind to accept the offer I made you earlier.”

  Toddy’s brow wrinkled. “Maybe. But what about my wife? Regardless of what’s happened to the body, my wife’s absence is going to be noticed. It’s just a matter of time until the police will be looking for me. I can’t show myself. I don’t see how you can afford to be tied up with me.”

  “I am planning, Mr. Kent, to absolve you of the murder. Naturally, you would be of no use to me otherwise.”

  “You’re planning?” Toddy said. “But how—why?”

  “How I cannot yet tell you. As to the why, I have a double reason. Not only do I wish to have you associated with me, but I think it highly possible that the murderer may be my enemy as well as yours.” Alvarado held up his hand. “Please! For the present, there is little more that I can tell you. And you have not accepted my offer…or have you?”

  “All right.” Toddy made up his mind. “It’s my only chance. You’ve got yourself a boy.”

  “Good. Now, who knew that you had the watch?”

  “You did.”

  “Of course. And Dolores. But who else? You told your wife about it, naturally?”

  “No. Neither her nor anyone else.”

  “You are positive of that? Did you say anything to anyone which might, even by a remote chance, lead them to suspect that you had the watch?”

  “No, I—” Toddy paused doubtfully.

  “Did you or not? This is easily as important to you as it is to me, Mr. Kent.”

  “I talked to the man I sell gold to.” Toddy gave him a brief summary of his conversation with Milt. “It couldn’t have meant anything to him. Anyway, my wife was killed at just about the time I was talking to him.”

  “Then he is of no interest to us. It is as I thought.…”

  “Yes.”

  Alvarado nodded absently. “Yes, it must be so.…But sit down, Mr. Kent. Would you like some coffee?—fine, so would I. Dolores!”