Piece after piece was examined as the moments flew rapidly by. In a little while, a little cry of triumph seeped from between her tautened lips.
Excitedly, she pulled a jewel case from between the folds of a soiled bath towel where she had placed it several hours before! She had utilized the linen chute and a soiled towel in disposing of her precious loot in the washroom above, after overcoming the detectives and making away with the diamonds!
Thus, they had not been found on her person when she was searched!
And her plan had worked to perfection, the searchers evidently scorning the basement, and particularly a basket of soiled linen in their search for the tossing gems!
The Kettrick diamonds! Ellen turned them over in the case in the glow from her flash, and blinked.
Exquisite gems, flawless, ice-blue, perfectly matched, pear-shaped. No mistaking them for what they were!
Reluctantly, she locked them in their case, slid the receptacle into a large envelope, stamped and addressed to herself at her apartment on Wiltshire Boulevard, in Hollywood!
“I suppose that puts a crimp in Mr. Ames Kettrick!” she murmured, with innate satisfaction, “and I’m not taking a chance on keeping them at the hotel until I leave, either!
“Fenced properly, these stones will bring a fortune in New York. After that, I suppose the kiddies at the orphanage will be brought up properly at Kettrick’s expense, whether he likes it or not! And that is just as it should be, considering that the diamonds were bought with dishonest money, stolen from the needy!”
Ellen slipped back across the basement, up the stairs, and to the window.
She slipped out the way she had come, through the window. She closed the window; and left, also, stuck to the window frame with gum, a small, black card. On it in white ink, was inscribed the words: The Domino Lady’s Compliments!
At the corner, she dropped the bulky envelope into the postal box. And as she walked hotel-ward, there was a grim little smile playing about her mouth as she thought of her father, and of how he must be enjoying her successful campaign of vengeance, wherever he was!
In her room, Ellen undressed slowly, and got into bed.
Her thoughts reverted to Roge McKane, and the night that was to come. For a long time she lay, smiling up at the ceiling in the early morning light. But at last, she drifted off to sleep, another daring exploit triumphantly concluded!
THE END
The Domino Lady’s Handicap
by Lars Anderson
Originally published in the July 1936 issue of Saucy Romantic Adventures
Chapter 1: Blackmail
FIVE A.M. a chilly wind swept through the grandstand and whistled about the cornices of the deserted clubhouse. But the dusty, dirt racing oval held but one horse and its rider.
Inside the rail near the finish line stood a girl and two men, their eyes glued upon the track. The tallest of the trio, Lee Kilgore, in grey cap and tan trenchcoat, was the owner of the thoroughbred they were watching. He was a lanky youngster with a mass of brown, wavy hair atop his lean, good-looking face. His clothes were of the most expensive cut. Brother of Frances Kilgore, the screen’s outstanding ingénue, Lee was rather well-known in racing circles for his small stable which was among the leaders at the beautiful Santa Anita track.
“Pop” Fields, veteran trainer of the small but prosperous Kilgore string, stood nearby chewing a blade of grass. He was dressed in shabby blue trousers and nondescript jersey.
The feminine member of the trio was our old friend, Ellen Patrick of Hollywood. To say she was beautiful would be like saying Jack Dempsey was a pugilist. Waves of silky-soft, yellow hair that possessed a vital sheen of burnished gold peeped from beneath a tiny toque of blue velour. She had attractive brown eyes, full, mobile lips, and a determined little chin. As she smiled at a remark of Kilgore’s, seductive dimples enhanced the beauty of her smooth cheeks.
Under a short blue coat, a bright frock hugged the youthful outlines of a perfectly-contoured figure. As the breeze parted the coat momentarily, the dress was enticingly molded to the smooth perfection of her lovely bosom and the svelte curves of lithe thighs and slender calves in a symphony of graceful rhythm. Her great eyes widened suddenly as a gun barked. Ellen grasped Lee Kilgore’s arm, excitedly.
The big, awkward-looking chocolate gelding lunged into a fast start, his flying hoofs pounding the track like the pistons of a well-oiled machine. The exercise boy, in sweater and cap, crouched low upon the animal’s neck like a cat on a limb, rating the pace with a skill bred of long experience.
The speedster quickly circled the oval. As he flashed across the finish line a smile swept over the trainer’s bronzed features. The boy trotted the gelding back to where they waited.
“Oh, wasn’t he splendid?” cried Ellen, her face lighted with admiration.
“Splendid, did you say?” Pop Fields asked, grinning. He patted the horse’s damp, satiny neck. “He turned that mile in 1:38:4, and he ain’t takin’ a deep breath! That’s perfect, if you’re askin’ me! Keep this under your cap, kid,” he added, turning to the exercise boy.
“Right, Pop, not a peep from me!”
Lee Kilgore sized up the prancing racer with critical eyes. He had returned from a business trip to New Orleans only two days before and this was his first look at the gelding, Burnt Offering, in training.
“What’re his chances in the Mountain States Handicap now, Pop?” he asked, quietly. “Think he can go the distance?”
“Chances?” grinned the veteran, sagely. “It’s in the bag, Mr. Kilgore! Burnt’ll be so far out in front at the mile that they’ll never head ’im! He’s the fastest breaker on the grounds.” The horse tossed its beautiful head proudly as though it understood and fully agreed.
They watched as the boy trotted the big speedster back to the stables for his cooling out. Fields started to follow.
“Watch him closely, Pop, and don’t take any chances!” the young owner called after him, then turned to Ellen. “Let’s go. I’m hungry as a she-wolf this morning!”
Ellen was smiling as he led her to a powerful roadster nearby.
“I do hope he wins the Handicap for you, Lee,” she said, with the easy familiarity of an old friend. She had been a childhood playmate of the two Kilgore children in Los Angeles. “He’s very beautiful. But,” she went on, pertly arching her brows, “where do we go from here?”
Kilgore smiled down at her as she strode along beside him, and his grey eyes were filled with frank admiration. “I wish,” he told her as he handed her into the car, “that you were having breakfast with me at the Santa Anita!”
Ellen laughed, musically. “Well, you might as well go right into your next wish, then, because that one’s been granted! I’m famished, too!”
Lee echoed her laugh as he meshed the gears and got the car underway, but there was a worried expression about his grey eyes which Ellen couldn’t help noticing.
“You’re worried about the Handicap, aren’t you, Lee?” she probed, “That threat...”
Kilgore turned his head and smiled as he patted the slender, gloved hand that rested in the crook of his elbow. “Now, don’t you fret, honey,” he said, quickly, “We’ll take the Handicap with Burnt, all right!”
THEY were silent as the car rolled swiftly along the highway, but their thoughts were parallel. Frances Kilgore had been indiscreet while still a carefree college youngster. She had written certain compromising letters to a Los Angeles youth. The latter had disposed of them to an unscrupulous rascal, a gangster and gambler, who threatened the future of the young star before the cameras. He promised to publicize the letters unless Lee Kilgore withdrew his speedy gelding, Burnt Offering, from the Mountain States Handicap! But, with typical Kilgore courage, and backed by his nervy sister, Lee had squared his rocky jaw and ignored the threat!
It was not alone that the threat raised his dander, but Kilgore needed the money. A disastrous fire at the Tanforan track a month previous had taken three of his b
est handicap performers, and left him with a barnful of liabilities on his hands. He had repeatedly refused offers of aid from his successful sister, determined to make the racing stable left by his father, a paying proposition. His fortunes at low tide, he was counting on his lone surviving handicap horse to recoup and make the future worthwhile. The chocolate gelding was his ace in the hole, so to speak.
They breakfasted at a coffee shop in Santa Anita. Across the table from Lee, Ellen was very lovely with her vibrant youthfulness. Her piquant face and bright frock lit up the interior of the restaurant with a hint of joyous spring. The lights, high-diving into her shimmering tresses, seemed transformed into shafts of golden sunshine. Kilgore’s eyes softened as he studied her beauty.
“Mrs. Patrick’s little girl has certainly grown up to be a beautiful woman!” he mused, silently, fervently.
Ellen broke in upon his reverie: “But what are you going to do, Lee? You can’t deliberately wreck Fran’s career by ignoring the threat.”
“I feel like kicking myself,” he said, softly, “for telling you about it at all, Ellen. You’ll worry about it until your holiday here will be ruined. Can’t you just forget it, honey?”
“But how can I forget,” she questioned, meaningly, “when it concerns the happiness of two of my best friends?”
He was silent for a moment. Then, “We both appreciate that, Ellen,” he said, earnestly, “but what good can your worrying produce? We’re all rather helpless before this blackmailer! And Fran insists that I stick to my original intention, and run Burnt in the Handicap!”
“Well, perhaps my worry will do no good,” she admitted, slowly, “and then again, you can never tell! I might take a hand in the game myself!”
He grinned: “You talk like a woman of the world,” he said, “when I know you’re just a little girl at heart!”
Ellen grimaced, then smiled. “Smarty!” she said, teasingly. “And just for that, I feel like making good my boast! I feel like going to see that man, and, if he doesn’t come across, shoot him down as he deserves!”
“Brrrrr! Listen to the big bad wolfie!” laughed Kilgore, as the waiter deposited their food before them. “I didn’t know you were so cold-blooded, Ellen! But you’d better build up your nerve with a few more calories before tackling that devil, honey! Now, don’t you think it a good idea to stop worrying and start eating?”
Chapter 2: Plotting a Coup
ELLEN PATRICK was stopping at an expensive hotel in the smart residential section of the town. Like her father before her, she was an ardent admirer of blooded racing horses. The present visit to Santa Anita was for the purpose of witnessing the famous Mountain States Handicap which was scheduled for the coming Saturday.
Anyone entering the luxurious suite with her at three o’clock that Spring afternoon would have instantly realized that she was a young lady of expensive tastes; tastes beyond the income from the small trust fund left by her father. However, the young Berkeley graduate lived the life of a daring adventuress, supplementing her income with part of the funds obtained in courageous forays against the unscrupulous wealthy. The major portion of her loot always went to a deserving charity.
Ellen Patrick had been on a tour of the Far East when news came to her of her father’s murder. That had been her first touch of heartbreak. Owen Patrick had been like a god to his only child. And when the rumor spread that the crooked political machine which ruled the state had been responsible for the unwarranted death of the honest politician, his grieving daughter had sworn eternal vengeance! Thus far, she had squared accounts with several of the vulpine politicians, and had accomplished much good in the form of anonymous gifts to worthy charitable institutions in California.
HER adventurous spirit had not been content for long with these accomplishments. Love of adventure was in her blood, a heritage from her fighting father. At times during the three years following his death, Ellen had coolly accepted hazardous undertakings without thought of personal gain, merely for the sake of friendship, and her inordinate craving for excitement! During the past year, her reputation had become firmly established. On all sides she had become well-known and feared as The Domino Lady!
The present case was typical. Ellen had encountered a life-long friend, Lee Kilgore, soon after her arrival in Santa Anita. His big handicap performer, Burnt Offering, was one of the logical choices for the stake to be decided on Saturday. Ellen had been a bosom friend of Frances Kilgore while at Berkeley, and had renewed childhood ties. The young horseman’s sister had gone from college to attain the heights in filmdom. Thus, they had drifted apart; Ellen hadn’t seen Frances in years, although she had infrequently watched her performances upon the screen.
While at college, as already mentioned, Francis had acted unwisely.
A certain Los Angeles man had received compromising letters from her, and later sold them to as unscrupulous a rascal as you might find unhung.
Jess Kilgarlin, gangster, gambler, and professional blackmailer, was not given to driving easy bargains. Kilgarlin made his living in rather a dubious manner, but it was a very good living. His recipe was unfailing. He invested little save time, and his profits were limited only by the nature of the club which he could hold over the heads of his victims.
A Hollywood parasite, Kilgarlin’s method was simplicity in itself, and was rounded upon the fact that the public demands too much of its artists. Ever since motion picture producers allowed the public to dictate as to the private lives of its stars, Jess Kilgarlin had lived in clover! He believed, and there was none who might gainsay him, that very few actresses of talent and ability can live the ordinary lives of routine mortals. There was, he claimed, something in the very temperament of a successful actress which made her susceptible to emotions.
And Jess Kilgarlin made a profitable profession out of ascertaining specific instances of emotional susceptibility, getting proofs, and planning some dramatic method of incidental release of those proofs which would have swept the tabloids into line!
Take the Frances Kilgore case for instance. No one save a professional blackmailer with infinite patience and a deep-founded belief in the frailty of human nature would have suspected that Frances Kilgore had loved not wisely but too well while still a limpid-eyed collegian in her teens. And no one but a Kilgarlin would have had the diabolical cleverness necessary to bide his time, after securing the precious letters as proof, until Frances Kilgore was perched atop the cinema heap!
Then his weapon attained its maximum efficiency. Its value was limited only by the value which the star placed upon her career. It was reputed that her salary had reached the new depression high of fifteen thousand dollars a week! Kilgarlin had bled her from time to time, or so Lee Kilgore had hinted to Ellen, and now, desirous of cinching a sure thing in the Handicap on Saturday, the blackmailer was offering the packet of letters which would end his profit, in return for Kilgore’s withdrawal of his gelding from the California racing classic!
Frances Kilgore, whose screen name wasn’t Frances Kilgore at all, but something which came easily to the tongue and tinkled to the ear, was furious. She had insisted that her brother ignore the demands of Kilgarlin. The blackmailer had driven her to a position where she had decided to defy him and sacrifice herself if necessary before allowing him to ruin her brother’s chances in the rich racing fixture.
So, for friendship sake, and because she loved adventure and danger, Ellen Patrick had decided to enter the case. The day before she had sent her customary white-on-black warning to Jess Kilgarlin at his headquarters in Los Angeles. It had been brief, purposeful, to the point. Either Kilgarlin was to deliver certain letters to a movie celebrity before nightfall or The Domino Lady would call and collect them in person! Or, the note hinted broadly, there might be other heavy collections made at the same time for the sake of a worthy charity!
The Domino Lady had proved on numerous occasions that she was nobody’s fool; she knew that she was up against a tough proposition in tackling a gangster
of Jess Kilgarlin’s caliber, but the insurmountable obstacles thus presented only added spice to the game!
Of course, Kilgarlin had laughed and ignored the threat. Surrounded by henchmen who would shoot before asking questions, the shrewd gangster chief was in no wise worried by mention of a Domino Lady. Besides, with a cool million at stake, and he holding all the aces, how could he lose?
So matters stood on the afternoon of the day when Ellen had breakfasted at the Santa Anita with Lee Kilgore.
AFTER reaching her suite, Ellen phoned Jess Kilgarlin’s apartment in Los Angeles. She knew he would not be there. Her purpose was to ascertain his whereabouts so that she might plan accordingly. A grim little smile curved her scarlet lips as she was informed that the gangster was stopping at another hotel in Santa Anita.
“Down for the Handicap tomorrow,” she mused after cradling the telephone, “and expecting to clean up a fortune on a sure thing, of course! Well, little Domino Girl, you have your work cut out for you this time! You’re going up against a gang with one of the shrewdest and bloodiest leaders in the business, and you can’t expect any police assistance, either! But this is just the sort of a set-up Dad would have loved to sink his teeth into, and I ought to be ashamed of myself for worrying about it beforehand!”
It was eight o’clock when Ellen dressed for her daring undertaking. Stepping nimbly from the perfumed bath, looking for all the world like a shapely stick of pink-and-white peppermint candy, she slowly donned the customary lacy, black briefs. Then followed the sheerest of hose for her beautiful legs, and French-heeled, black velvet slippers for her dainty feet. She smiled to herself as she lifted the black crepe frock to draw it on over her shining head. Kilgarlin should see her preparing herself for the raid, she thought! The backless dress, with halter-neck effect, was form-fitting and it sheathed her lovely body like a glove! Its daring cut accentuated the exposed whiteness of her perfect back and kissable shoulders, and added a nimbus of enticing allure to her magnetic personality.
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