by Q. Patrick
So it had all worked out the way I had imagined. Very icy and being Garr, I said, “You haven’t explained how this impostor knew about the meeting at the Museum. You were the only person who was given the instructions—”
“That ain’t no fault of mine, either.” Nikki ran a hand around the throat of his sweater. “One of the kids we got working with us for our set-up at the docks—he snooped when I was getting my instructions. We’d thought he was okay, but—”
“You mean Karl Pauly,” I said.
His jaw dropped at this exhibition of all-knowledge. “You know about Pauly?”
“Naturally.” Here was my chance to get the lead to Karl. “They haven’t told me yet what they’ve done with him.”
Nikki grinned. “He won’t cause no more trouble.” He glanced knowingly at the woman with the purple hat. Her answering smile was discreet. “They got him safe down at the Purple Star.” The Purple Star—wherever or whatever that was! I felt a tingle of excitement. So the purple stars for the purple hat had some significance of their own—a kind of cross-reference. And it wasn’t too late to save Karl—not yet. He was still alive—at the Purple Star. Point number one to me.
Still holding the quiet, velvet-glove voice, I said, “You’re trying to tell me that this woman was an associate of Pauly’s?”
“Yeah. That must be it. You see, this Pauly had a mother—”
Nikki started telling me about Marta. He was in his element now, strutting like a peacock. He told how he’d grown suspicious of her knowing more than she should, how he’d watched her house, followed her to Coney Island, and decided to kill her before the meeting at the Waxworks Museum. His heavy face grew almost animated as he recounted how he had trapped her on the roller coaster, thrown her over the ramp, and made his get-away before the police had even arrived on the scene.
Having to listen to him without socking him in the teeth was a most rarefied form of torture.
“So you see,” he concluded, “this dame who got to Baldy— oh, sure, I guess it’s kind of too bad, even though it ain’t my fault. But you don’t have to worry about her. She ain’t in with the cops, any more than Pauly and his mother were. I know it. She was just some pal of this Pauly woman who thought she’d get smart. None of them have gone to the cops. They’re too scared. You don’t have to worry.”
So Karl had managed to keep from them his FBI contact with Leslie, Pine 3-2323. Good for Karl.
“When I need your advice whether to worry or not, I’ll ask for it,” I said.
That pricked the flimsy bubble of his arrogance. His speech in his own defense complete now, he crouched in the chair like a great sulky bear, waiting for Garr to pronounce sentence.
I lit a cigarette. I stood with my back to the mantel, staring at him impassively. I was going to enjoy this.
“It’s been an unlucky day for you, Nikki. You killed one woman and yet you let another woman trick you. You almost destroyed a very carefully worked out and vital plan. That was unlucky. But the most unlucky thing for you is that, thanks to your bungling, you’ve had to meet me. You know that I allow very few people to know who I am.”
“Yes, but—”
“And somehow,” I drawled, “I don’t think I’m going to want you to be one of them.”
Nikki’s face had gone the color of the inside of orange peel. “You—you don’t mean—? You ain’t going to have them do to me what they did to Anders,” he moaned. “You can’t—”
I didn’t know what they’d done to Anders. I hoped it was something most unpleasant. “You’ll find out in time,” I said, “just what I’m planning to do.”
He cringed like a whipped retriever. I shrugged him away and turned to the woman with the purple hat.
“What’s your name?”
She started confusedly and faltered, “Ruby.”
I might have guessed it from looking at her. Ruby! Okay, Ruby. This was where I went to town. The whole purpose behind this enigmatic tangle of agents and purple hats and stars had been a meeting between Garr and Ruby. All right. The meeting was now going to come off.
“Well, Ruby,” I said, “we finally meet. I believe you have something to say to me?”
I felt very taut. Was it really going to be as easy as this? Was I going to learn the dark secrets of the mysterious plot simply by having Ruby tell me about them?
Ruby patted the ash-blond hair, looked refined and batted her lashes in the direction of Nikki. “Is it all right to talk in front of him?”
“Why not?” I said. And then, because I couldn’t resist it, “Just think of Nikki as someone who’s going on a long, long journey.” Nikki cringed some more. Ruby looked brisk and businesslike and said, “Okay. Well, you got all the facts. Your people from down at the docks gave you the whole dope. How about it?
What’s your decision?”
That had me rocking for a moment. So Garr knew already everything there was to know about this vague plot. This meeting had been designed not to give him information, but to learn his decision on information already received. What I had thought to be solid ground under my feet had changed suddenly to very thin ice.
Guardedly, very conscious of the hulking and murderous figure of Nikki hunched in his chair, I echoed, “My decision?”
“Yep,” snapped Ruby. “What’s it to be? Are you ready to play ball? How much cash is there in it for us?”
So long as she kept me on the defensive, I was lost. I saw that. I decided upon a bold counter-attack.
“Before there’s any talk of a decision, I want to hear the whole story again from you.”
“But that’s dumb. You know—”
“I’m not interested in what I know. I’m interested in you, Ruby. There’s been one impostor with a purple hat already tonight. D’you imagine I’d risk talking with you until you’ve proved you’re genuine?”
I thought that was rather brilliant for the spur of the moment. “Genuine? You mean—on the level?” she grumbled. “Of course I’m on the level.”
“Prove it.”
“But time’s so short. I don’t want—”
“There are more important things than time,” I said ominously.
“Go on, Ruby. Tell me the whole story—from the beginning.”
It worked. Ruby batted her eyelashes petulantly and crossed her thin legs so that I saw all of them. They weren’t the kind of legs you wanted to see all of.
“Okay,” she said, “if you want to be that cagey, I’ll go through the whole thing. I’ll show you I’m on the level. Captain Fisher, he’s my friend.” She looked knowing. “And he contacted one of your men down at the docks.” She shot a contemptuous glance at Nikki. “His boss. And your man told Captain Fischer that it was too big a proposition for him to handle, that he’d pass all the dope on to you and that Captain Fischer would have to go to you personally for the final decision. Right so far?”
There was a challenging note in her voice. The uncomfortable idea came that perhaps she was using my tactics as a boomerang—deliberately making up a phony story to test whether I myself was on the level.
“Right so far?” she repeated.
I still had the control. “What’s the name of Nikki’s boss down at the docks?” I said, as if testing her.
“Swensen.”
From the quickness of her reply, and from the fact that Nikki accepted the name without the slightest change of expression, I was pretty sure that my fears were unnecessary. Ruby wasn’t interested in whether or not I was Garr; she was too busy trying to prove she was Ruby. Relief slid through my body. Ruby was turning out as much of a push-over as Nikki.
And Swensen. I must remember that name when the time came for the final round-up of Garr and his gang.
Ruby was watching me intently. “Go on,” I said.
“Okay,” she said again. “Well, since you’re so cagey about being known and won’t make a straight appointment with anyone, Swensen told Captain Fischer to
get a representative and send her to Coney Island where she’d be started up the line to you. Captain Fischer chose me as his representative—” the blond hair got patted again— “on account of my being his friend and someone he could trust. And I’m here to get your decision. Okay. Satisfied now?”
I couldn’t afford to be satisfied for a long time yet. I glanced at Nikki. He had perked up and was leaning forward in his chair. For the first time I started wondering whether he had a gun. Almost certainly he had. That was a nasty thought.
I was wondering about Iris too. In fact, all through that impossible session, worry for Iris was gnawing somewhere in back of my mind. Had she made good at Sammy’s Place? Had she got the lead to Garr? And if she had, what would she do when she found I had gone? Would she go on to the interview with Garr alone? Or would she come back here? That was what kept me jittery as a cat. If Iris were to walk in here now, purple hat and all, Nikki would recognize her, the whole jerry-built structure of my Garr impersonation would collapse and—
I tried to keep that thought out of the way.
Ruby was tugging at her flimsy skirt with elegant fingers. “Satisfied now,” she repeated.
Very dead-pan, I said, “Not until you’ve told me what the proposition is.”
“Nothing slap-dash about you, is there, Mr. Garr? I should have brought shorthand notes.” Ruby was getting sarcastic. “Okay. Here’s the proposition. Captain Fischer’s got a ship—the Purple Star.”
The Purple Star! Karl Pauly was on the Purple Star—Captain Fischer’s ship.
“Right now,” went on Ruby, “he’s on the transatlantic route, sailing in the convoys. And this trip he’s carrying ammunition. The Purple Star’s just stuffed with ammunition—gunpowder, guns, bombs, everything.”
She mounted those sinister words with the caressing intimacy of a radio announcer boosting a sponsored dessert.
“The Purple Star’s scheduled to sail six-thirty tomorrow afternoon for Halifax. At the moment, she’s docked smack alongside five or six other ships. Captain Fischer and I kind of want to put our hands on some money and we aren’t any too particular how we come by it. Captain Fischer figured that you, seeing your line of business, might be interested in a little sort of accidental fire taking place on the Purple Star. A cigarette tossed away or something and the whole ship blows up and it sets fire to all the other ships and the docks and everything.”
She patted the purple hat. “Before you could turn around, half of the docks would be on fire. And who’s to blame? No one. Okay, Mr. Garr. That’s the proposition, and you’re going to have a tough time proving I’m a phony now. So for Pete’s sake, let’s get down to it. What’s the decision? Are you interested and how much is in it for us?”
Ruby sat there watching me as calmly as if she had come to sell me a set of bathroom fixtures. I was staggered. So this was the plot of which Karl and poor little Marta had heard vague rumblings. This was the catastrophe which Iris and I had so impulsively committed ourselves to stop. A munitions ship blown up in the heart of New York! The horror of it had fantastic proportion—and yet it was real. Only too real. I remembered other mysterious fires that had broken out recently around the docks. I remembered, dimly, from my childhood, the Black Tom explosion in Jersey.
All that would be Fourth of July stuff in contrast to this. There was certainly nothing small-time about Ruby and her boyfriend, Captain Fischer.
Both Ruby and Nikki were fixing me with steady stares. The moment for the great Garr to make his great decision had come. I tried to look calm. It wasn’t easy.
“All we want is your okay to go ahead, Mr. Garr,” said the executive Ruby. “Captain Fischer’s got everything set. One word from you and at five sharp this morning the Purple Star is blasted to kingdom come. How about it?”
I wondered dimly whether anything as wild and woolly as this had ever happened before to any sober, respectable American citizen. One word from me and half of New York’s docks went up in smoke!
“You’ve seen the plans and everything,” said Ruby. “You know it’s a cinch, Mr. Garr. Surely, it’s worth a hundred grand to you.”
A hundred thousand dollars. So that’s all Ruby was asking to destroy the Purple Star—mere pin money!
“Fifty grand now,” said Ruby. “And fifty grand when the job’s done. Okay?”
I was desperately trying to think ahead. I knew the whole fantastic plot now; and I knew where Karl Pauly could be found. There was nothing to stop me calling Pine 3-2323 immediately and turning the macabre and murderous affair over to Leslie. But, if I did, if the plot to destroy the Purple Star was nipped in the bud, if Nikki, Ruby, Captain Fischer, and Swensen were all arrested, the shadowy Garr would still elude the net. And obviously, so long as Garr remained at large, only a fraction of the job was done. So long as Garr remained at large, there was always the risk of other Rubys, other Captain Fischers, other Purple Stars. No, however great the danger, I would have to hold off from Pine 3-2323 a little longer. I would have to stall; keep Nikki and Ruby on ice until I could contact Iris and make certain that she had received from Baldy the final instructions that would lead to Garr’s hideout.
Stall, somehow contact Iris—
Iris’ living-room—so utterly incongruous a setting for these diabolic plots—was preternaturally silent. Ruby was leaning forward on the couch, watching me brightly. I stubbed my cigarette and said casually:
“All right, Ruby. I see no reason not to let you have my decision now. Okay. Go ahead. You’ll get the money.”
“A hundred grand in cash?” Ruby’s eyes went piggy and greedy.
“Yes. One hundred thousand dollars.” That was the final fabulous touch, to hear myself placidly offering Ruby one hundred thousand dollars in cash.
Ruby was gloating all over, legs, purple hat, and everything. “Give me the first fifty grand and I’ll call Captain Fischer right away. Everything’s set for five o’clock, fuses and everything. He’s just waiting for the call.” She laughed. “There’ll be fireworks in New York tonight.”
Nice character, Ruby.
I watched her, realizing she’d given me my stalling point. “I’m afraid we’ll have to wait a little while.” I glanced at Nikki. “Thanks to Nikki, my plans had to be rearranged. One of my men’s bringing the money here.”
Ruby looked instantly suspicious.
“You don’t have to worry,” I said. “He should be here in ten minutes.”
That was to give me time to think. I was beginning to see what I had to do. When the ten minutes was up and my mythical man hadn’t arrived, I would have to maneuver Nikki and Ruby into some place from which they couldn’t escape and then make a frantic attempt to contact Iris. The problem of imprisoning Ruby and the probably armed Nikki in a New York apartment wasn’t exactly a simple one. But it had to be solved. I couldn’t afford to let them get away again. Iris’ bathroom perhaps? Or the broom closet in the hall?
Where was Iris anyway? Where to look for her?
Ruby, her self-assurance completely restored by the prospect of fifty grand, lit a scarlet-tipped cigarette and leaned back against the cushions of the couch. Nikki got up from his chair. I’d forgotten how tall he was. He came toward me, towering over me, looking abject.
“Mr. Garr,” he began, “since everything’s going to be okay now, you ain’t—it wasn’t none of it my fault. And Baldy fixed that dame. You said so. There won’t be any more trouble with her.” His great arms hung limply at his sides. “You ain’t going to let them do to me what they did to Anders?”
I stared at all those feet of winsome charm, thinking of some of the things I would like to do to him. I said, “We’ll take that up later on.”
“But, Mr. Garr—”
His hand went out toward me in a gesture of pleading. Then, suddenly, it stopped in midair. I saw Ruby start and sit up straight on the couch. But I saw it only vaguely because I too had heard that dreadful sound which had come without the shadow o
f a warning.
That sound of woman’s heels tap-tapping across the parquet of the hall directly outside the living-room door.
I realized in a flash what had happened. The front door! I hadn’t heard her key in the front door. I—
I pushed past Nikki, making for the living-room door, feeling as if the end of the world was coming.
It came.
Before I reached the door, it was thrown open. A voice that was more familiar to me than any voice in the world, was saying excitedly: “Peter, darling, why on earth did you leave? What happened? I’ve got the directions. We can get to Garr now.”
Iris stepped straight into the room.
I stared at her, desperately, hopelessly. Nikki and Ruby were staring too, as she stood there, frozen on the threshold—Iris, slim and beautiful in her gray tweed suit; Iris with that nightmare purple hat, which flaunted two ornamental purple stars now, perched on her dusky brown hair.
Her glance had moved from me and was fixed on Nikki. Very slowly he stepped away from the mantel, understanding, and a sort of evil triumph dawning on his face. One of his great hands went into his pants’ pocket. He gave a little laugh.
“So this dame’s a phony and you’re Garr!” he said. “You’re Garr. That’s rich. Tried to fool me, did you? Okay. Stick ‘em up.”
My hands went above my head,
I had been right about Nikki. He did have a gun. Definitely. That was one of the most disastrous examples of table-turning in history. I had been so near to complete success. Now everything was shattered. And it dragged not only me down with it, but Iris also.
Iris’ hands had gone up too. She smiled ruefully at me past the great bulk of Nikki. “Sorry, darling,” she said. “That wasn’t one of my better entrances.”