by Jerry eBooks
“Norton was alone when you got here, and he had just finished writing out a new will, which doubtlessly cut you off entirely, Garrett. When you found that Norton knew you had stolen the money from the safe, and that he had changed his will, you killed him.”
“Those are all lies,” said Garrett excitedly. “You can’t prove a word of it, McHugh.”
“After you killed Norton you tore up the new will,” McHugh went on calmly, as though Garrett had not spoken. “But you overlooked one little scrap of paper which I found.” McHugh handed the bit of paper he had found to Captain Small. “This is it: ‘And to my trusted’ certainly sounds like the phraseology of a will.”
“It does,” said Small. “Go on, McHugh.”
“When Dillon and I arrived you told us about the murder, Garrett, but it took you a long time to answer the doorbell. You said you had been out attending some business for Mr. Norton and when you returned you found he had been murdered. As a matter of fact I think you decided to act as if you were back on the job as butler when you heard the doorbell ringing. So you searched around and found that old butler’s uniform you had left here and put it on.”
“Nonsense,” said Garrett. “Mr. Norton had given me back my job—and I went out and found him murdered upon my return just as I said before.”
“I hardly think if you had dressed properly instead of hurriedly, you would still be wearing those bright red and green socks, Garrett.” McHugh frowned. “But I’ll admit this is all guess work upon my part. I haven’t enough real proof.”
“But I have,” said Cromer, who had, been quickly glancing through Farrell Norton’s original will. “Look here. In this paragraph where uncle originally said, “And to my trusted servant, James Garrett I leave the sum of twenty thousand dollars in cash for his faithful service there is now written on the margin in my uncle’s handwriting. ‘This clause of my will is now void and I have found that James Garrett is a thief who stole five thousand dollars in cash from my safe.’ It is initialed F. N.”
“And I killed him for nothing!” Garrett said before he thought.
“You’re under arrest for murder, Garrett,” said Captain Small. He motioned to some of his men. “Take this man away.”
GARRETT was escorted from the house by two powerful detectives and he was struggling and cursing. The body was taken away, and McHugh and Dillon finally found themselves alone with Cromer and the captain.
“Nice work, McHugh,” Small said. “You’d make a good detective.”
“That’s my boy,” said Dillon with a grin. “He’s smart.
“Come on, Vern,” said McHugh, picking up his bag and adjusting the strap over his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here. You’ve got a story to write about how the quick thinking of Captain Small solved the murder of Farrell Norton.”
“Thanks, McHugh,” said the captain. The two newspapermen went out and got into their car. Dillon took the wheel and McHugh placed his bag on the floor and seated himself beside the reporter.
“Would you mind driving by those farms at the south side of town,” McHugh said as they drove away. “I’d like to get a nice quiet shot of a cow in a field. I hate photographing crime.”
“Okay.” Dillon laughed, and then glanced at McHugh. “That’s my boy!”
THE CACKLE-BLADDER
William Campbell Gault
The last time I saw Paris, he didn’t look like this. He’d always been a snappy lad when it came to clothes, and he’d never been at a loss for words, as they say.
This gloomy Monday I was sitting in Monte’s, watching the rain hit the front windows and trying to find a mudder in the Form. I was low on scratch, and drinking beer when this—this apparition walked in, wringing wet.
I figured Monte would give him the heave, but good. Monte don’t like no bums cluttering up the place.
But Monte just sighed and said, “Morning, Paris.”
If this was Paris, I was Pittsburgh Phil. Then I looked more closely. No teeth in this wretch, pale as snow, wearing stinking rags, but it was Paris, all right.
I looked at him and thought of the last time I’d seen him. He’d been with Joe Nello, then, working the short-con together. Paris had taught the kid everything he knew.
He was looking at me now. “Hi, Jonesy,” he said.
“Hello, Paris,” I said, and nodded to the chair across the table. “It’s been a long time. Sit down and have a drink.”
He sat down, and Monte brought over a big tumbler of fortified wine. I knew then that Paris was on the way out. That comes just before your toes curl, fortified wine.
I took the chance and said, “How’s Joe Nello?”
He wasn’t looking at me. “Would you really like to know?”
I nodded. “That’s why I asked.”
This is what he told me . . .
Joe and I, he began, were pretty thick, as you know. I mean, we worked all right together. I made the guy; he wouldn’t have been nothing without me. He had the looks, sure, but he was kind of soft, you know, at first. He had a lot to learn about taking care of himself in this damned world.
Times I was discouraged about Joe, but he knew what was important, really. I mean, down deep, he understood there’s nothing like a few bucks to make people notice you. Lot of talk about the worthwhile things, but name me one you can’t buy.
Anyhow, we were working Iowa with the short-con, everything from hog cholera tonic to three-card monte, and Joe was catching on. So many honest people in that state, they should have a closed season on the suckers. Begging to be taken, those rubes.
And the girls? They believe anything you tell them. Anything. Few tears when you leave them, but you don’t always have to tell them you’re going, not when you’re on the move all the time.
We made a small pile in the tank towns and holed up in Des Moines for a while. We bought a convertible and enjoyed life. We didn’t work the town; it’s a wrong town. We just had ourselves a time.
That’s where this Judith comes in. That’s the babe that almost kept Joe from amounting to anything. I met her first, in the lobby of the hotel where we were staying.
She was a hostess for the tearoom in the hotel, and in town on her own. Her folks had a farm about eighty miles into the tall and uncut.
She was maybe twenty-two, and slim, but not slim where she shouldn’t be. She had blue-black hair and deep blue eyes. An innocent, if I ever saw one. But ready, I could tell. Bored, and ready.
She was sitting near the front windows, watching the traffic, a magazine in her lap, the first time I saw her.
I took a chair nearby and said, “Things can’t be that bad.” She looked over, startled, and she smiled. She seemed about eighteen when she smiled. “Was I looking as bored as I feel?” she asked.
“I don’t know how bored you feel,” I answered. “Haven’t I seen you around here before?”
“I work in the tearoom,” she said. “I’m the hostess. I went to school, and now I’m a hostess in a tearoom and I can write testimonials for the school. I’m a success.”
Then Joe came along. Her eyes went past me, and they seemed to come alive when she looked at Joe. He was staring, too.
He grinned then and said, “Is this gentleman annoying you, Miss? And if he is, can I help him?”
Joe was going under the name of Jim Kruger at the time, and I said, “Jim, I’m sure you have something to do. There are lots of interesting things to do in this town. Goodbye, Jim, old pal.”
“Now I know he’s annoying you, Miss,” Joe said. “He has evil intentions, despite his age. And if there are so many things to do, can’t we do them together?”
That crack about age wasn’t so hot, I thought.
Joe said, “Run along, now, Don, or I won’t give you any more of my old suits.”
Sharpie, he was getting to be. I said, “Why don’t the three of us go out together? Then the lady will be safe, and we’ll all have a good time.”
“All but me,” Joe said, and looked at her. “H
owever, if that’s the only way, I’m for it. You don’t think we’re too bold, do you?”
“I think you’re fun,” she said, “and my sales resistance is at an all-time low. I’m sold.”
I never had a chance; this one was Joe’s right from the start. We went to a spot on the edge of town where the lights were low and the liquor bonded.
They danced, and I drank. They danced and danced until you’d think Joe would develop a charley horse. Young they were, and graceful, and they danced awful close, but good. People gave them room, and some stopped to watch, and this Judith ate it up and got flushed and prettier than ever.
Joe’s old man had been a hoofer, and Joe had started dancing when he was four. He was really going good that night.
I drove, going back. The car purred along, and I kept my eyes on the road ahead, and they didn’t say anything.
In the room, while we were getting ready for the hay, Joe said, “This Judith, she’s different, Paris.”
“Not in any place I could notice,” I said, “though my eyes aren’t so good, now that I’m old.”
“Aw, Paris,” he said, “you know what I mean.”
“I wish I did,” I said.
“I mean, she’s—she’s a decent kid, and only a kid. She’s different.”
You see what I mean? I’d worked on the boy. He knew the difference between a wolf and a lamb, I thought, and now he gets all mixed up with a lamb who’s ready and he’s got to go soft. What could I tell him, if he wouldn’t learn?
Love—How many pitches have gone wrong because some guys think it’s love? Love’s all right, if you want to call it that, but you don’t have to buy a ring to prove it.
And that’s what this punk meant to do. All the babes he’d run around with, and he’s talking marriage.
“Her dad,” he says one night, “has got three hundred and twenty acres of the finest corn land in Iowa, Paris.”
“That’s the guy you should be hanging around, not the daughter, then,” I said. “Maybe we can touch him for a couple grand.”
He didn’t even seem to hear me. “She wants me to settle down. She wants me to take a winter course at Iowa State and learn to run those three hundred and twenty acres.”
“That’s the wrong side of the fence, Joe,” I told him. “You’re no yokel, and you couldn’t learn to be one.”
He laughed at me. “What have we got? A couple grand. Small-time grifters, working the short-con. I could have done this good in the five-a-day.”
I was glad, then, that I had the telegram in my pocket. Lou Pettle had sent it from K.C. and I hadn’t shown it to Joe yet. I did, now.
He read it and said, “Lou Pettle . . .” like a yokel would say “J.P. Morgan.” Lou was just as big a man, in his field.
“Lou Pettle,” I agreed. “The biggest operator in the country. This is the chance we’ve been waiting for. This is where we move up, Joe.”
He shook his head and blew out his breath. “A fortune. Lou Pettle. Golly, Paris.”
“Well,” I said, “are you going to buy the ring?”
He laughed and shook his head. Then he grinned at me. “But give me a couple days. Let me get her out of my system.”
I couldn’t blame him for that. He could have a lifetime without meeting another like Judith. I said, “I’ll wire Lou we’ve some unfinished business, but to expect us.”
He did buy a ring, though. Nice big Mexican diamond that must have cost him well over two bucks.
He spent most of the two days with her. She had a vacation coming and she took it, and where they went I couldn’t swear to in court. I know I didn’t see much of Joe.
Then, one afternoon, he comes into the lobby looking like a cat that has just polished off a quart of Grade A. “When do we leave?” he said.
“Congratulations,” I said. “Any time you’re ready.”
“Now,” he said. “Judith’s gone out to bring her dad to town. He wants to meet me.” He seemed a little nervous. “We haven’t got too much time.”
We had less than that.
Joe was getting the car gassed up when Judith comes into the lobby, this stout gent in tow.
He didn’t look like a farmer. He looked like a banker—that’s the kind of moola there is in that Iowa soil. She introduced us and asked, “Where’s Jim?”
“He’ll be back,” I said, watching her face.
Her face was thinner, but her eyes were starrier than ever. Golly, she was a looker! I’ll never forget it.
Her dad went over to buy a paper, and she said, “He will be back, won’t he, Don? I don’t suppose that’s a silly question, but he’s so—I mean, it’s hard to believe, even now, that he’s all mine. Oh, you must think I’m a perfect idiot. Only—”
“Easy, baby,” I said. “Of course he’ll be back. You go over and sit in that big chair, and I’ll try and locate him.”
She was trembling like a bride at the altar.
I got hold of him at the service station. “You’d better steer clear of the hotel. There’s no shotgun in sight, but there could be one around. I’ll pack your stuff, and you pick me up near that restaurant where we ate the first day. Got it?”
I came out of the telephone booth, and she was standing about five feet away. I walked over, and she put a hand on my arm.
“Don, there’s something wrong.”
“Nothing, nothing,” I said. “Jim’s trying to land a customer that will net us eighteen thousand dollars, Judith, and I’m not going to bother him now. He’ll be here at six to clean up. Or, if you’d rather, he’ll meet you at the Golden Pheasant. He’s arranged a dinner for the four of us out there. He said this is the biggest evening of his life.”
She smiled. “Did he say that?”
“His exact words.”
Now she looked calm. “I’m going out and buy the nicest dress in town. We’ll meet you here at seven, Don.”
“We’ll be here,” I said.
They went out, and I went to the desk. I paid our bill and told the clerk, “Any mail that comes to either of us, you could send to General Delivery, in Kansas City.”
He grinned at me. “Sure thing. Don’t tell me Mr. Kruger is walking out on our Judith.”
I was glad, now, we hadn’t used our right names. All these squares work together.
I said, “Your memory isn’t much good, is it?” I laid a twenty on the desk.
“I don’t know from nothin’,” he said, and that twenty just disappeared.
“Send for the cab, then,” I told him, “and have the cabbie come up for our luggage.”
Joe was waiting with the car in front of the restaurant, and we piled the luggage in the back.
Joe said, “How’d it go?”
“We’re taking them to dinner at seven,” I said. “Judy’s out, buying a new dress.”
Joe chuckled and shook his head. “Squares,” he said. “Kansas City, here we come.”
I was proud of him. I’d got him past this one, and I knew he wasn’t going to get on the wrong side of the fence again. That was his graduation, you might say. From then on, I knew there was no danger of Joe getting simple. We were going places.
Two days after we started to work for Lou, I went over to the post office and picked up our mail. There wasn’t much—a couple letters and a copy of the Des Moines paper. That was probably the clerk’s idea, sending that paper along.
There was a picture of Judith on the front page. It didn’t say it had been suicide. It just said she’d taken an overdose of sleeping tablets that had proved fatal. There was an unfounded rumor of an unhappy love affair, but neither of her parents would comment on that. She’d died clutching an immense imitation diamond ring in her left hand.
That’s a square for you. I mean, he hadn’t taken a nickel from her. As a matter of fact, he’d spent his own money on her and she hadn’t lost a thing. What’d she have to beef about?
I threw the paper away. I didn’t want to annoy Joe when he had his big chance, like this.
Lou had ulcers and was due to retire soon. I watched and learned, and we salted it, Joe and I. I rode the trains in from the West and he rode them in from the East, and Lou plucked them clean as a whistle, those marks we brought in to the store.
Store is just a con-name for the front we were using, an imitation bookie joint that could have been staged by a Broadway producer, it was that authentic. Lou had shills that looked like millionaires and he had shills that looked like playboys and shills that looked like retired farmers, but none that looked like shills.
Lou’s ulcers got worse, and Joe and I began to take him out on parties, here and there, and raise hell with him generally.
Then one day Lou said to me, “Paris, I can’t take any more. The fix is still solid, and the store is a mint, but a man has got to think of his health. You wouldn’t be interested in the inside job, would you?”
“Not for me,” I said. “I’m a simple, happy man.”
“There’s no one else could handle it in the organization,” he said. “I wouldn’t expect you to shell out; all I want’s a percentage. And you’d be handling the money, Paris, remember. You’d get yours.”
“And you’d get yours, with me handling it,” I said, “but how much?”
We finally agreed on what I should send him. I argued so long he must have thought he was actually going to get it.
So we didn’t use a dime of our money. We had seventy grand, Joe and I, in a joint account. That’s how I trusted him.
Well, Judith had been one milestone, and this was likely to be another. The inside man, you know, is the boss and not always popular, because he’s got the chance to knock down some personal moola at the expense of the others. If Joe and I got through this, we were solid; there wasn’t any limit to the long green we could garner.
It was Joe who brought me my first mark in the new job. Joe phoned me from the Alcazar and said, “Kind of a young guy, Paris. But he’s got forty grand salted, right here in town. He wants to go into business here.” Then he paused. “Husky, though. Might be rough to cool out.”