He tried a fresh tack. He said, “Billy Elkins was a small-time punk, and your services come high. Or so I’m told. You worked hard on Billy’s case. You got him off in a year, and otherwise it’d have been ten. Where’d he ever get the kind of sugar you’d ask for doing that?”
Murro shrugged. “My fee wasn’t high. He paid it, and it’s not my business where he got the money.”
“It ought to’ve been our business,” said Ben. “We should have looked into it at the time. But wait a minute. Suppose he didn’t pay you – in money.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure, you do. Blackmail. Billy Elkins didn’t have any money, but why couldn’t he have given you something that would have let you put the screws on somebody that had dough?”
The lawyer smiled. “An interesting theory,” he said.
“Um,” said Big Ben. “The more you think of it, the more interesting it gets. It wouldn’t have been Durban; Durban’s legitimate. He makes enough out of his night club that I don’t think he has a racket. But Elkins did business with Hoberg. He could have put the finger on Hoberg, couldn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“I wouldn’t either,” said Ben, “but I aim to find out. I’m going to use your phone, if you don’t mind – or even if you do. I think Elkins’ death outside your window is enough of an excuse that I can get somebody sent down here with a search warrant.” He was squashing his way across the room toward the telephone while he talked. “And maybe if I stick around until the warrant gets here–”
“Take him, Pete.” It was Murro’s voice, and it was hard as ice. Just before Big Ben Hayden got to the phone.
“Up, copper,” said another voice, and Ben raised his hands slowly as he turned.
A dark, stocky man Ben had never seen before stood in the doorway that led to the bedroom. He held a revolver with a silencer on its barrel, aimed at Ben.
“Hold it,” said Murro. He took down a picture from the wall and spun the dial of a safe that had been behind it. He thrust into his pocket a small bundle of papers that he took from the safe, and then closed it again.
He said, “We’ll have to take the copper for a ride, Pete. I should have had sense enough to get these things out of here before, after we found out Elkins broke his damn neck. We’ll have to stash them somewhere else, too.”
“Okay,” said the man he’d called Pete. “Look, step behind him and frisk him, will you, Rafe?”
Murro came around behind Ben, felt his hip pockets and side pockets first, and then stepped in close to reach around front.
He had to stand close to do that; it took a man with long arms to encircle Big Ben Hayden’s girth. Murro’s hands felt his vest pockets, and that meant Murro was standing very close to him and he could feel Murro’s breath on the back of his neck.
Ben’s hands were shoulder high, and he’d bent his elbows so they were in close to his neck – and to Murro’s head.
This, Ben had a hunch, was going to be the best chance he’d be likely to get to make a break. And he took it.
He moved with a suddeness that few would have believed possible in a man of his dimensions. His upraised hands darted back over his shoulders and clamped on the sides of the lawyer’s head, and the instant those hands made contact with their objective, Ben threw his weight forward from the waist, hurling Murro over Ben’s head, into the gunman and the gun.
The silenced pistol was coughing dryly. Twice it coughed and then there was a thud that shook the walls, another thud, and silence.
Ben looked first at the man whose hand still held the pistol, and then at the lawyer. He put a pudgy hand on the chest of each of them, over where the heartbeat should have been.
Then he went across the room to the telephone, and called Captain Rogers.
He said, “This is Ben. I’m in Rafe Murro’s apartment. Better send the wagon.”
“What happened?”
“All of a sudden, murder;’ said Ben. “Guy named Pete shot Rafe Murro in the head with a pistol. Bullet went straight in from the top and straight down. You’ll probably find it somewhere down around his ankles.”
“The hell! And the killer – have you got–”
“Then Rafe went ahead and killed this here Pete,” said Ben. “He slammed into him going ninety miles an hour and knocked Pete backwards and Pete’s head took a big chunk of wood out of the doorjamb. It didn’t do Pete’s head any good either. So you can book ‘em for killing each other.”
“You kidding me, Ben? How could–”
“You’ll see when you get here, Cap. Or whenever whoever you send gets here. And listen, in Rafe Murro’s pocket, there’s going to be plenty evidence to tie him up to the blackmail we figured he was pulling. I threw a scare in him by talking about a search warrant, and he got tough.”
“Did he have anything to do with Elkins’ death, Ben?”
“I dunno, Cap. I’m still working on that. I’m going to keep on working on it, but I’ll be around the building somewhere when the wagon gets here. Look, what was the result of the examination on Billy Elkins?”
“Killed instantly. That was a narrow shaft, and he hit his head on a couple window sills on the way down. We found blood on them. If you want a list of all the bones fractured–”
“I don’t,” said Ben. “I’ll take your word for it. What all was in his pockets? Did he have any money or was he broke?”
“Just some small change. But he sure had a lot of other stuff in his pockets. Want to hear the list?”
“Sure,” said Ben. “Read it, will you?”
Ben listened closely, and whistled. Then he put the receiver back on the hook and looked up the phone number of the Indiana Hotel.
A sleepy voice answered.
“Mitzie Elkins, please,” said Ben.
“She checked out today.”
Ben said, “That’s funny. I had an appointment with her. Did she say where she was going, or give any forwarding address?”
“No. She left rather hurriedly this morning and said she’d give us an address later. If she gets in touch with us, who shall I tell her called?”
“Her husband,” said Ben. “This is Billy Elkins. Sure she didn’t leave any message for me?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Funny,” said Ben, and he put the receiver back on the hook.
It was funny. Mitzie Elkins must have learned this morning that her husband was getting out of jail in the afternoon. And if she was still in love with him, she’d taken a funny way of showing it.
There was a decanter of whiskey on the table. Murro hadn’t offered Ben a drink, but he figured Murro wouldn’t mind now. So he had one. It made him feel warm inside and that made him realize how cold and wet the outside of him still was.
Dammit, why couldn’t he make up his mind that Billy Elkins had simply fallen down that airshaft? It made sense.
But the farther he got into this case, the farther there was to go. Now he’d have to find out why Mitzie had run out this morning. Maybe have to go sloshing out in the rain again, hunting her.
And he’d have to see Frankie Hoberg and ask him –
Hey! How about those papers that were in Murro’s pocket?
Maybe there was a lead there to the Elkins business.
Ben went over and got the papers, glanced through them.
There were leads, in those papers, to lots of things that Cap Rogers would find interesting. Things that –
Then, on the second last one, he caught a glimpse of the signature, “Wm. Elkins.” Ben read it carefully, and said, “I’ll be damned. Right on the head!”
And he wondered vaguely if he’d been psychic. He’d taken a random shot in the dark by asking Murro if Billy Elkins had paid him off in material for blackmail against Hoberg. It had been a bull’s-eye.
The paper he had in his hand was a confession signed by Elkins, which incriminated Hoberg as the fence who handled everything Billy had stolen. Signing that confession, th
en, had been the price Billy had paid for Murro’s services in getting a ten-year sentence divided by ten. Did Mitzie know he’d signed? She must have.
And Hoberg would know, of course. That knowledge would have cost him plenty of sugar. Then Hoberg did have a motive for killing Elkins.
The paper still in his hand, Ben strolled over to the window and stared out into the rain. Maybe Hoberg had –
The Black Maria was pulling up, out in front. Two men with yellow slickers over blue uniforms got out and ran toward the door, and a few seconds later, Murro’s doorbell buzzed.
Ben went over and pushed the button that would unlatch the door.
Then, on a sudden impulse, he slipped the paper incriminating Hoberg into his own pocket and the others back into Murro’s. Dammit, he might as well follow through with that paper now, and get it over with. Then he could swim back home, take a hot bath, and get back to bed.
He heard the elevator start up, had another quick snort of Murro’s whiskey, and then let the patrolmen in the door. He said, “Hi, boys. Nothing for you to do but take these two mugs to the morgue. It’s under control. But there are some important papers in the guy’s pocket. See that they don’t get lost, and that Rogers gets them.”
‘’Okay, Ben. You’re coming with us, aren’t you?” Ben shook his head. “This was a sideline. Me, I’m still worrying about a guy falling down an airshaft. Tell Rogers I’ll phone him again later.”
“But he said you was to come in with us and explain about these guys and–”
“Tell him also, nuts,” said Ben. “I want to get this over with so I can go home.”
He went down to the elevator, got in, and punched the button for the top floor, the seventh.
He knocked on the door of 7-A. He didn’t know Hoberg, but he’d heard him described, and he recognized the ratty little man who opened the door as fitting the description.
“Police,” he said. “Want to talk to you, Hoberg.” Hoberg hesitated only a second, then opened the door wide enough for Ben to step through. Ben did, and wished he hadn’t. There were two other men in the room, and they both looked tough. Hoberg he could have broken with one hand, but the other two men looked like ex-pugs. Ben wished now that he’d borrowed a gun from one of the men who’d come with the wagon. But he hadn’t thought of it, then.
“This says it’s a copper, boys,” said Hoberg to the two men.
“It wants to talk to me.”
“Yeah’ said Ben. “About Billy Elkins. He fell down your airshaft tonight. Suppose you’ve heard about it.”
“Sure,” said Hoberg. He looked relieved, and became suddenly less belligerent. “Sure, I heard about it. When I got home. I – we were out then.”
“When was this?”
“Happened at nine-thirty, didn’t it? That’s what I heard. Me and my pals here didn’t get home till after ten. And if you think it ain’t an alibi, think again. We were in night court. Benny and Dutch were in a little trouble, and I bailed them out.”
“Sounds good,” said Ben. “What time’d you leave there?”
“Not till almost ten. Ask Judge Steinke, or the court clerk.” Hoberg grinned.
“Steinke’s good enough for me,” said Ben. “I’ll check with him later. Seen Billy Elkins since he got out?”
“No.”
“Or Mitzie?”
“Hell, no. That wren’s poison. Billy was nuts about her; he’d have stuck a shiv in anyone that looked at her.”
“I have a hunch,” said Ben, “that somebody’s been looking at her plenty. You wouldn’t know who?”
“I wouldn’t,” said Hoberg. “I haven’t seen her around since she quit working at Durban’s place three months or so ago.”
“Okay, Hoberg,” said Ben. “Guess you’re clean on the Elkins business. But you’ll have to come with me to the station just the same. We’ve got another charge against you.”
“The hell you have. You coppers ain’t got a thing–” Hoberg stared incredulously at Ben. “Or did that louse Morro–”
“Murro’s dead,” said Ben. He could have bit his tongue the moment he said it. Definitely, it was the wrong thing. If he’d kept his yap shut, Hoberg would have come along without a struggle. He’d have figured it was a rap he could beat, nothing worth trying to shoot his way out of. But now there was a mean-looking little thirty-two in Hoberg’s hand, and Hoberg stepped forward and held it against Ben’s chest.
“Hey,” said one of the ex-pugs uneasily. “Go easy, Frankie. That’s a copper and we don’t want to be tangled in–”
“Shut up,” said Hoberg. “If Murro’s dead, then maybe this guy’s got–” His free left hand had first tapped Ben’s pockets for a revolver, and then it slid into Ben’s inside coat pocket and came out with the folded paper that was Billy Elkins’ confession. Without letting the gun waver, he partly unfolded it and glanced at the signature. He sucked in his breath and let it out audibly, as he crumpled the paper into his own pocket.
He said, “Benny, Dutch. We got to take this copper out and–” The mugs were standing now, behind Hoberg. One of them said, “Nuts, Frankie. This is your business, not ours. Why should we stick our heads into a noose just because–”
“You got to,” yelled Hoberg. “You got to help me, because I got plenty on both of you. How about that St. Louis business where the two guards got–”
Something black and heavy rose in the air behind Hoberg’s head, and descended. Hoberg dropped, and Ben – who had seen it coming – tried to grab at the gun that had been in Hoberg’s hand. But missed.
“Hold it,” said one of the two men, and the black automatic whose butt had hit Hoberg was now trained on Ben Hayden.
The other man bent down over the huddled figure of Hoberg.
He said, “You stopped his clock.”
“Hell,” said the one with the gun. “We might as weIl’ve played along in the first place. Now we got to rub out the copper. Hell.”
Ben said reasonably, “You don’t have to kill me if you don’t want to. You can tie me up. You’ll have to lam anyway; they’ll find out you were here with Hoberg. He was with you in court half an hour ago. And he wasn’t any loss to society, but if you kill a cop–”
“Nuts,” said the man with the gun. “Hoberg was a rat, but they use as many volts on you for killing a rat as–” The other of the two mugs stood up. He had Hoberg’s gun in his left hand, and he’d been frisking Hoberg’s pockets with the other. He said, “Twenty lousy bucks. We’re broke, and that’s all the louse has on him. We’ll have to lam on twenty lousy bucks.”
Funny, Ben thought, how crooks ran true to type. Now, in the middle of danger and murder, their first thought was of what they could walk off with. The eyes of the man who’d just frisked Hoberg were even now darting around the room, looking for something valuable enough to steal. Just as Billy Elkins, fresh out of jail, had stolen…
Ben grunted. He said, “I got twelve bucks. Might as well tell you. You’ll find it anyway, when you tie me up.” The one who’d killed Hoberg said, “Hold that gun on him, Dutch. I’ll take his dough.” He moved sidewise around Ben, and Ben caught the glint in his eye and knew that they weren’t going to tie him up. That this was a stall.
They didn’t want to shoot off a gun and raise a ruckus, and this guy – if the other was Dutch, this must be Benny, his namesake – was making an excuse to get behind him and kill him the same way he’d killed Hoberg.
And there wouldn’t be room to try the trick he’d worked on Murro. Benny wouldn’t stand that close to hit him, and Dutch was off to one side anyway, with Hoberg’s thirty-two aimed at Ben Hayden’s belt buckle.
Ben said, “Wait a minute, Benny. Listen, I got an idea.”
“Yeah? What?”
The odd thing was that he did have an idea. An idea that had come to him while he watched Dutch’s eyes wander around the room looking for something to swipe. A long-shot idea, or was it? It started out that Billy Elkins was a dip, maybe even a kleptomaniac type of dip
. And it went on that Billy’d stick a shiv – according to Hoberg – into anyone who looked cross-eyed at Mitzie Elkins.
“Five hundred dollars or five thousand dollars – whatever the guy’s got on him or can raise quick. How’d you like to have that much money for your getaway? Within a matter of minutes from now?”
“From who?”
Ben said, ‘’From the man who dropped Billy Elkins down the airshaft.”
“Nuts,” said the one called Benny. “The copper’s just trying to talk his way out of a jam. He’s stalling. Go ahead and–” Dutch said, “Shut up. The guy’s talking money. Just maybe he’s got something. All right, copper, speak your piece. How would we get this five grand?”
Ben said, “The man who killed Elkins pays you. The three of us go down there. I’m not heeled, and you both are, so you needn’t worry about a break. I convince Durban – yeah, Paul Durban killed Elkins – that I can prove a murder rap on him. Then you talk business with him.”
“You think he’d pay us–”
“Sure. Take him for whatever dough he’s got, for which you agree to save his neck by taking me for a ride. That gives you money to pull your freight on. Then you let me out on a deserted road somewhere and keep traveling. You’ve got to stage a getaway, don’t you? And with real money, you can do that.”
“It’s risky, but – Listen, copper, if you double-cross us, there ain’t a chance it’ll do you any good. If anything goes wrong, we shoot you first. We got nothing to lose; we already–” He nodded toward what was left of Frank Hoberg.
“Sure,” said Big Ben. “Let’s get going.”
“We better use the stairs,” Dutch said. “Okay, copper, we don’t have to trust you. This heater’ll be in your back all the way. Go ahead.”
The stairway was only a few steps from the door of 7-A. They saw no-one in the hallway, nor in the hallway of the fifth floor.
The Screaming Mimi Page 24