The Deadly Game

by Norman Daniels

  Mona was plainly afraid now. "Mike, don't be a fool. Don't try to comer him. Lay low for a while. Kane will cool off if you don't give him any reasons to stay hot on you."

  "I need the moral reassurance of knowing I can get Kane, and I will."

  She came over and knelt in front of my chair, put her head on my knees and spoke in a low begging voice. "Mike, don’t. Forget the whole thing and especially forget the Brindley necklace. Kane is capable of framing you if there is no other way. I've known men like him. They never stop."

  "Neither do I, Mona, and Kane will have to get smarter than he is to pull a frame on me."

  She wound her arms around my neck. "Can't you see, Mike? It's you I'm thinking of. If they catch you, I'll—I'll—"

  "But if Kane has slipped somewhere, and I repeat, he's the kind of a louse who might have—then I can make the son-of-a-bitch pull in his neck and stop bothering me."

  "But how do you know he isn't perfectly honest, Mike?"

  "Call it a hunch. Call it more than that. Look how he's ganging up on me! Do ordinary cops operate that way? Hell, they go after a man straight. Kane's using influence to get at me.

  "Mike, it might be that he's driving you to desperation so you won't be so careful the next time you pull a job. That's all he's waiting for—just a little carelessness on your part. Kane regards you as his personal problem. You've driven him nuts a few times, and he can't forget it."

  "Look, baby, will you help me with this?"

  She got off my lap quickly. "Nothing doing, Mike. And I'm thinking more of your own good than mine. Kane is just waiting to pounce."

  "Take it easy. I don't mean helping me pull a job. All I want you to do is nose around and see what Kane does in his spare time."

  She lit another cigarette. Her hands weren't shaking quite as badly this time. "Mike—I'll do that much for you. Maybe I can convince you that Kane is on the level and you can't get at him this way. If I do, will you promise to lay low?"

  "It's a promise," I said. I got up too and walked toward her. She came into my arms willingly enough. I hadn't been in the mood when I arrived but, as it usually happened, I couldn't be with Mona long before the fires started leaping.

  She pushed me away. "Not tonight, Mike. I'm too worried."

  "Oh hell, is Kane getting at me through you, too?"

  "Let me check up on him, darling. If I can put my mind at ease, then I'll stop this stewing. Damn it, right now I'd like to get drunk."

  "What a lovely idea," I said.

  "Oh, no. If I did, I know what would happen. Go home, Mike. Go home and do some serious thinking about this."

  I let go of her and found my hat.

  She followed me to the door. "Mike, you're not sore at me?"

  "No—I realize you have a point, but you worry too much. Take tomorrow off and see what you can find out about Kane. I’ll see you tomorrow night."

  She gave me a hasty kiss and I didn't find much consolation in it. Without even trying, Kane was getting at me in a way he never planned on. Mona was essential to my plans, but if she was getting the jitters, I'd never be able to use her. I damned Kane a thousand times and kept right on damning him when I hit the street and caught a glimpse of the young dick who fell in half a block behind me.

  I took him for a walk and a dozen blocks further on, he faded out of sight and another man took his place. These robbery detail dicks sometimes worked as many as twelve men around the clock to keep a suspect under close surveillance.

  I couldn't operate if they watched me that way. Besides, it irritated me. I had to do something about those shadows and I had to do it right away. I headed toward my hotel and I could almost hear the gasp of relief the guy behind me uttered. I took away that relief by going right past the hotel entrance. I walked around the block, studying a neighborhood I'd lived in for five years and had never really seen before. My suite, on the eighth floor, had a rear exposure and I had a recollection of noticing a smaller hotel on the next block. I saw it now from the street. It wasn't a new hotel, but not too bad either.

  I circled the block and walked into my own hotel, went straight to my rooms and fixed a drink. Then I sat down to do some planning. First of all, I had to get Kane's boys out of my hair and I didn't think that would be very hard.

  I waited until around two in the morning and then I walked down to the lobby floor. At this hour the place was usually deserted, but I caught a glimpse of a bored man dozing in a chair that faced the elevators. That would be Kane's boy. I made sure he didn't see me.

  The porter's baggage room was at the rear of the lobby floor and unmanned after midnight so I had no trouble crossing to a small door which led to a loading platform. Now I was in the court behind the hotel. I waited a couple of minutes until my eyes got used to the gloom and then I walked toward the solid wooden fence bordering the edge of the hotel property. It was easy to climb and I found myself in another small court. From this I could reach an alley, go along that to the street and when I did, I found myself face to face with the small hotel I'd already cased. So my idea would work out—if I needed it.

  I returned to my hotel by the same route. Kane's man was still dozing. I was tempted to walk past just to see him jump, but I restrained myself and took the elevator to my rooms. I went straight to bed and thought about Mona. I thought so much about her that it took me a long time to drop off.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I missed her the next morning when I reached the office. The mail was spilled over the floor below the door slot. I picked it all up, went into my private office and sorted the envelopes. There were two letters from clients who had retained me to look for certain items and each customer cancelled the order. The loss in money wasn't too bad, but it seemed like more of Kane's work.

  Up to the time Mona arrived at four in the afternoon, I hadn't had a single customer. Some days were like that because I had a limited amount of business, but I was wondering if Kane had posted men outside to steer customers away.

  I wouldn't put it past him. Maybe Mona was right and he'd try to drive me into desperate circumstances. What Kane didn't know about was that I could hold out longer than he.

  Mona was tired and depressed when she finally turned up. She flung herself into the big leather chair at the side of my desk, slipped off her gloves and gratefully accepted the cigarette I handed her.

  "Well," she said, "I checked and I checked. I found out a few things, none of them worth much. Kane likes a good time and spends more than his salary. He also likes beautiful women even though he has a very pretty wife. He has a bad credit rating, and his buying habits indicate he spends a lot on himself and nothing on his house or wife. All in all, I'd say Kane was a louse—but an honest louse. He's never gone off the beam that I could learn."

  I felt more than pleased. "You did well, baby. If Kane hasn't strayed, he will. Under a setup like that, a cop is a pushover for the first good deal that comes along. And if nothing does, I'll arrange something."

  "And what, for instance?"

  "I don't know yet. Maybe I'll do it through his wife."

  Mona sat up very straight. "I won't stand for any two-timing on your part, Mike. I'm warning you."

  I laughed at her. "Don't worry about it, Mona."

  She relaxed. "But Mike, the more I learned about Kane, the more I know how dangerous he is. Remember those Sutton Place jobs a year ago? Movie actresses, a skating star, rich oil men from Texas—nearly half a million was lifted from their apartments. Kane worked on that. He worked around the clock for months and he landed the thieves. He never gives up, and you're top man on his list."

  "I'm peeling myself off the top, baby. I'll start tonight. You go home and take it easy. I'll see you later—as soon as I get a definite line on what I want to do about Kane."

  I stuck around the office until seven and then I went to a good restaurant in the neighborhood. I bought a newspaper on my way, and I didn't even try to check on Kane's boys, who would be following me. I ate a leisurely dinn
er, consulted the timetable of a big movie house close by and noted that the feature went on at eight-forty-two. That meant a lot of people would be streaming out about then.

  At exactly eight-forty I bought a loge ticket and walked casually across the massive foyer. The early show audience was already coming out of half a dozen lobby doors. I surrendered my ticket, walked in, picked up speed and joined the crowd waiting to go out. I used the far door and made sure there were plenty of people all around me. I kept pace with them until we hit the street. I turned left, walked a dozen yards and popped into a large drug store. I went straight to the phone booths, entered one of them and kept my eyes peeled for anyone who resembled a cop. Nobody gave me even a casual glance.

  After five minutes of pretended telephoning, I left the drug store by the side door which led me onto a cross street. I walked briskly down that and just before I reached the corner, I came to an abrupt stop, put a cigarette between my lips and turned deliberately around. There was a man and a woman on the other side of the street, nobody else. I was certain I'd thrown Kane's man off my trail.

  I took a cab downtown now, completely relaxed and just a little proud of myself. So I was a sap, according to Kane. If that happened to be true, his boys were in a still lower category.

  Kane's address turned out to be a nice apartment house just off lower Fifth Avenue. There was no doorman, but, in passing, I noticed that the lobby was neat and cheerfully lighted. The rent here would be high. Too high for a fast-living cop no matter what his rank. If I had any luck at all, Kane's desire for good things was going to help defeat him.

  The elevator was self-service and the row of lobby mail boxes gave me the number of Kane's apartment. I rode to the fifth floor, located 5C with no trouble at all and I took a good long listen at the door. I heard nothing at all and if Kane was in there, awake, I'd have heard his voice easily. It was the kind that carried.

  Anyway, the situation called for risks so I pressed the buzzer and waited. Nothing happened. I buzzed again just to be sure, but I was already studying the lock and it wasn't an especially difficult one. I took a good look at the door frame too and that appeared to be even easier. I brought out my wallet, removed the thick cellophane window of the section where I carried my identification papers and shoved the strip of pliable substance between the door and the door frame until I could feel the lock tongue.

  I wound my handkerchief around my fist, worried the cellophane strip further along the tongue and then I gave a sharp twist. At the same time, I gave the door a solid bang with my muffled fist. The door sprang open. I laughed, this was the apartment of Captain Kane, of the Burglary a Robbery Detail, who preached that a door should never just slammed shut but double locked with a key.

  I went through the place just to make sure he wasn't sleeping. It was a four-room affair and nobody was in it. I took careful look around now. Just as Mona's research had indicated, Kane might spend plenty on himself so he could travel around with classy broads, but he spent damned little on his home. The bedroom furniture was cheap maple. The dining room set was nothing his grandmother had received from her mother. Rugs were thin and worn, the living room furniture was Grand Rapids modern and looked lumpy and uncomfortable, and in the kitchen I found what must have be the first electric ice box. Lucky Mrs. Kane with such a lovely home!

  But the place was neat. Kane's wife must have had a lot time on her hands and used it to keep the apartment up. didn't see a speck of dust anywhere, but on a small kidney shaped desk, which was about the most attractive piece furniture in the living room, I spotted a piece of letter paper half filled with writing. Apparently Mrs. Kane had been busy composing this letter and had left it abruptly because the last sentence wasn't even finished.

  I read the letter, what there was of it. Mrs. Kane's handwriting was the careful, perfectly formed script of a school teacher or a bookkeeper. The letter was addressed to Dear Ellen:

  It's nine o'clock already and not a word from Jack, seems lately he doesn't even bother to phone when he’s going to be late. It's always police work. Crime won’t wait. I've heard it again and again until it drives n crazy. Sometimes I wonder if it is all police work. We're in debt again—deeply this time—and Jack refuses to worry about it. He draws a good week's pay, but I see so little of it. All I do is get up in the morning, give him breakfast and off he goes. Sometimes he's gone for eighteen or twenty hours. I used to worry that he'd get hurt. Lately, I worry that he won't. Ellen, I may not be able to stand this much longer and if it gets the best of me, I'll try to scrape together the price of the bus fare and come visit you and the children for a while. There's nothing to do here. Just sit and read. We can't even afford a TV set. I've taken to going out to a bar and grill just around the corner. I sit there for hours just looking at people and wishing someone would speak to me. Don't worry about me. I only drink a little beer. But all this scares me. Sometimes I think I could cheerfully kill him . . .

  I put the letter down and knew I had my answer. A lonely woman, frustrated, writing of murder—even though she didn't mean it—was absolutely ripe for the taking. I didn't bother to search the apartment because I had all I required now.

  On the street, I hurried to the nearest corner. I saw no sign of a bar and grill, but I knew there had to be one. I found it around the other corner—a nice place catering to a respectable crowd and not very busy at this hour. I went in and ordered beer at the bar. While I drank it, I turned around and looked the patrons over. A woman alone stands out in a place of this kind, but this woman—and I hoped she was the one I was looking for—would have stood out anywhere.

  She was sitting in one of the booths facing me. She was tawny-haired, and even at this distance I could see that she had striking amber eyes. She didn't wear much makeup and she was one of the few women I've ever seen who could wear a peasant blouse and still look attractive.

  She struck me as being feline. The sort of woman who'd move quickly and might scratch while she purred contentment. She may have written Ellen that she drank beer, but she wasn't doing that tonight. There were two empty shot glasses in front of her and a third about half full. However, she seemed perfectly sober.

  I downed the rest of the beer and then walked deliberately over to her booth. I was banking on the hope that boredom and loneliness might get the better of what usually was good judgment. I came to a stop at the booth and took off my hat.

  I said, "Excuse me, miss. I'm extremely lonesome, I don’t like drinking alone and I wonder if you'd let me sit down and talk to you. I expect nothing, want nothing except a few minutes of company."

  She seemed amused and interested. "Well, that's a new method, at least. Why did you pick on me?"

  "For two reasons." I gave her my best smile. "You're very attractive and—you seemed about as lonely as I feel."

  "Sit down," she said. "I'd like to talk to you, but—" And she gave me a charming little smile—"I must tell you I'm married, I love my husband—and he happens to be a police captain."

  I slid onto the seat across from her and signaled a waiter. She was drinking Scotch straight. I ordered Scotch for me and a fresh one for her.

  "So your husband is a policeman," I said. "That's very interesting. I'm in the same line of work."

  Her eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

  "I'm a private investigator. My name is Richard Owen."

  She put her hand across the table and we shook very solemnly. Then we both laughed and the atmosphere cleared. I gave her a story about as real as the name I'd given her. She listened intently and I could see what a little company meant to her. I tried not to stare at her, but it was hard. She was made to be looked at and admired.

  She had one more Scotch and stopped cold, which I liked too. Sometimes Mona drank too much, and, while her taste ran to champagne, she could get just as tight on that as she could on Scotch. Mrs. Kane knew exactly when to call it a day.

  I found out her first name was Sheila, which I liked, too and before the evening was over, I was
using it when I talked to her. But she did most of the talking; being the wife of a cop who was seldom at home wasn't any picnic.

  "He keeps no regular hours, just works as long as he can stand it, and when he comes home he tumbles into bed exhausted. I wish he'd chosen some other profession. Like yours—with office hours. Or at least you can quit for the day when you want to. Jack never knows when to quit. If he were killed tomorrow, my life wouldn't seem any different."

  "That's too bad," I said. "Especially since you like the guy. He ought to ease up. Even the police department doesn't expect its men to work like that."

  "Well, he does and I don't think they could stop him. When we were first married and he was a street sergeant, we had fun, were together as often as he could manage it. He took an interest in everything around the house. Then they put him in the detective bureau and things changed."

  "Doesn't he realize what he's doing to you?" I asked.

  "I'm afraid not. He has his sights set on an inspector's badge and it would take an awful lot to stop him from getting it. All of his promotions came from hard work, and he's working all the harder to get his next jump in rank."

  "Well," I said, "maybe he'll get it soon and then slow down."

  She laughed and shook her head. "Not Jack. There are grades above an inspector. He won't stop until he's chief, and then I expect he'll be restless and unhappy because there's nowhere else to go."

  I called the waiter over and paid for the drinks.

  She seemed sorry to have the evening end, and as if she were afraid she'd bored me, said, "I'm sorry I talked so much. Next time, you'll pick someone without a grudge against life."

  I chuckled, feeling very good. "I'd pick you again over anyone, Sheila. I think all this chatter did you a lot of good. Can I take you home?"

  "No, I'd rather you didn't. People talk and Jack—well—I'm afraid not."

  "All right," I said. "But if you feel the urge to talk some more, I'll drop in here occasionally. And please understand, I'm no more on the make than you are."