Instantly, Jon came to a decision. He’d have to tell Schatz as much as necessary to force his hand. That would mean breaking two promises of silence: one to his father, the other to the man who’d left the house with his father. But the promise to his father had been unfairly extracted, one no father had a right to ask of a ten-year-old. And the promise to the other man was worth even less.
It had taken Jon years to reach those conclusions. Still, he’d said nothing. As Schatz had observed, the situation led to interesting speculations. But now suddenly there was a good reason to tell the truth, or some of it anyhow. Whatever Schatz knew, Jon had to know…
Casually, Jon baited the trap. “After all these years, Schatz, what difference would it make?”
“Then there was something.”
“Perhaps.”
“What did you see? Come on, boy, we have too much in common, you and I, to keep secrets.”
“All right.” Jon paused. “I saw my father leave the house carrying his attaché case. A man was with him. I got a good look at the man then, and also a few months later. He came back and threatened to kill me if I told anyone about him. Until now I never have, either.”
“What did he look like?” When Jon didn’t reply immediately, Schatz leaned forward, his grip on the glass tightening even more. His eagerness was almost pathetic. “Was he tall? Short? Fat? Thin? Young? Old? Tell me anything you remember…”
It was time for the trap to close.
Slowly, Jon said, “I think if I described him, it’s the last I’d see of you and the lovely Pearl. Isn’t that so?”
For a very long minute, Schatz stared at Jon. Then he settled back, smiling.
“Yes, you are your father’s son. I apologize, I underestimated you. But you threw me off. You’re such a lily-white fellow. A college athlete. The sterling war record. The clean business reputation.”
“Did I have a choice, considering who my father was? Could I induce anyone to invest a penny with me if I’d done otherwise?”
“I suppose not. From now on, boy, we must work together. We’ll share fifty-fifty. Including, of course, in the expenses.”
“Work together,” Jon asked, “in what, exactly?”
“Let me explain. Recently, I obtained something quite valuable, the first solid lead to your father’s fate. It’s a list, the names and addresses of 236 men. Not too long ago, one of those men—I don’t know which one—disposed of an item Rudy had with him the night he disappeared.”
“What item? And where’d you get this list?”
“For now those are my secrets, just as you refuse to describe the man to me. But you see what this means, don’t you? Until now I wasn’t sure what to do with the list. To investigate 236 men would cost an enormous sum, but now the answer is simple. You’ll go look at the men on my list. At their pictures, or in person. If you recognize one as the man you saw walk out of the brownstone with Rudy, you tell me and I’ll negotiate. It’s much more likely he’d negotiate with me than with you.”
“Negotiate?”
“Of course. What you told me fits my theory exactly. I think the man you saw walk out of the house with your father murdered him, but I don’t think he learned about the diamonds. If you can identify him as one of the men on my list, I’ll negotiate for the location of Rudy’s remains. And if they’re recoverable, you and I will dig them up and split the million in diamonds ourselves.”
The bizarre proposition caught Jon off guard, but he kept a poker face. The last thing he wanted now was to stop Schatz from talking.
Schatz gazed at Jon intently, studying his reaction. Apparently satisfied, he went on. “The money that arrives on your birthdays—I think that’s something Rudy arranged before he disappeared. My theory is he was killed by someone he hired to get him out of the country by another route. Very likely, it was a one-man job. I think Rudy got suspicious at the last minute and made new and hasty travel arrangements. We’d agreed that if he didn’t reach New York, I was to leave without him and he’d join me in Rio later, getting there as best he could. Those last few days, we didn’t even dare communicate.”
Schatz picked up the tumbler, drained it, and poured himself more.
“Leaving prematurely,” he continued, “Rudy would know the police would begin looking for him Christmas morning. He’d have to travel underground. He couldn’t do that alone; he’d need help. I think he intended to warn me, so I could try to get away before he was reported missing, but never had a chance. I think the person he hired to help him escape murdered him that very night, for the contents of his attaché case. You know what was in it?”
“Money.”
“Yes. I never told the police how much, but it should have been nearly a hundred thousand dollars, a very good score for a hijacker. The person Rudy hired to help him escape probably guessed the case contained valuables. Possibly he even managed to look inside it, before he killed Rudy. At any rate I think that was the murderer’s motive, after which he hid the body to confuse everyone.”
“Assuming your theory’s true—which I don’t—what makes you so sure my father didn’t tell this man about the diamonds? Or that he didn’t find them by accident after he killed my father?”
“Rudy wouldn’t tell a hijacker about them. That would guarantee his death. No, Rudy wouldn’t mention them until he was in a place of safety. Physically he was a brave man. If he thought he’d be killed, he’d die saying nothing about the diamonds, hoping his killer wouldn’t find them. I think Rudy was taken unawares, without a chance to negotiate for his life. As for the killer finding the diamonds by chance, it’s possible but unlikely. Even if he did, all wouldn’t be lost if you could identify him. When I negotiate…”
“Negotiate on what basis? The fact that I saw him walk out of the house with my father? And that years later he was one of 236 men who may have disposed of something my father carried when he disappeared? Hell, he’d just laugh at you.”
“True, he wouldn’t fear the law, but he’d fear Lou Gardino. Gardino is very curious about what happened to Rudy. His friends questioned me many times, in prison and afterwards. Gardino would be very angry at a man who killed Rudy for a mere hundred-thousand in an attaché case, making it impossible for Gardino to recover the quarter-million he’d loaned Rudy. He’d find this man, extract every cent he could, and then murder him in revenge. So I’d just say, ‘Look here, you deal with us, or we’ll give your name and address to Little Lou.’”
“That,” Jon pointed out, “would just hand the guy a good reason to kill both of us. Based on what I saw of him when I was a boy, I think that’s what he’d do anyhow. He didn’t impress me as the negotiating type.”
“We’ll take precautions. Of course we can’t tell him we want the remains for the diamonds, but we have another reason to negotiate for the remains, one which I think will disarm him completely. The insurance policies.”
“Mine,” Jon said, “was settled years ago, for a very small sum.”
Schatz frowned. “I didn’t know that…” He shrugged. “No matter, he won’t know it either, and if we do recover the remains, for show you can sue the company and try to reopen your claim. But my claim is still alive. Pearl and I have been seeking information about your father’s remains for years, using the insurance policy as an excuse. Everyone in the underworld knows the story by now, and I imagine the police do too.”
“Pearl knows about the diamonds?”
“No. Like everyone else, she thinks I want Rudy’s remains for the insurance, and don’t get ideas about learning more about my list from her. She’s utterly loyal to me. But you see the picture? If we find this man, I’ll say, ‘Look, were not interested in punishing you, but if Jon and I can produce Rudy’s remains we’ll get $100,000 each from the insurance company. Just tell us where the remains are. If they’re recoverable, we’ll pay you a fee and tell the police we learned the body’s lo
cation through an anonymous tip. We’ll all profit. If they’re not recoverable—well, you got a hundred thousand from the attaché case. Pay us enough to cover our expenses in finding you and something extra, as compensation for not telling Gardino about you, and we’ll forget the whole matter.” Schatz settled back, very pleased with himself. “He’ll be boxed in, you see. If the remains can be recovered, he must tell us. If he doesn’t, he’ll know we can bleed him for every cent he’s got. Well, what do you think?”
“Frankly,” Jon said, “I think it’s insane.”
Schatz wasn’t fazed. It began to dawn on Jon that where the diamonds were concerned, the old man was an absolute fanatic.
“Naturally,” Schatz said, “at first you’re repelled at the thought of negotiating with the man who murdered your father. It’s understandable. The thought is distasteful to me too, but be realistic. A half-million is nothing to sneeze at. Regard it as your rightful inheritance. And if the remains can’t be recovered—well, we’ll still profit, exacting tribute from the man. We’ll analyze his financial standing and ask whatever the traffic will bear. Either way, we’ll get something. And if we learn he’s worth a million or more, we can assume he found the diamonds and scale our demands accordingly.”
Jon shook his head. “That’s pretty raw, Schatz. You think I could bring myself to do that? Blackmail the man who murdered my father?”
“I think when you think it over, you will. If you’re your father’s son, you will. Money’s the only revenge that makes sense. Incidentally, if we find this man and the remains are recoverable, negotiations will probably boil down to how much we’re willing to pay for their location. I’m prepared to put twenty thousand dollars in what I’ll call our bribe kitty. I expect you to provide twenty thousand of your own, giving us forty thousand. I won’t offer that much immediately, of course. I’ll try to settle for much less, but we must be prepared to go that high. And I’ll want cash. Dealing with a murderer, we can’t dicker about manner-of-payment. Cash on the spot is all he’ll understand. You can get twenty thousand, can’t you?”
“I could, if I wanted to. But to begin with I think you’re banking too much on this theory of yours. My father might still be alive.”
“If so,” Schatz replied smoothly, “our man will tell us, as well as where we can pick up Rudy’s trail.” Schatz said that, but plainly he didn’t think there was a chance of Rudy’s being alive.
“All right, but your plan has other weaknesses. Assuming my father was murdered, more than one person may have been involved. The man on your list—the guy who disposed of the item my father had with him—might not be the same man who left the house with my father. Even if he was, after all this time I might not recognize him. Or he may have given the item to someone else, a quite innocent party, who disposed of it. Or…”
“Admittedly,” Schatz said, “the risks are great. But to make a big killing with a small investment, risk is necessary. Your father would have understood that. He’d have jumped at a chance to gain up to half a million by investing no more than twenty thousand and a few weeks’ time. In a few weeks we’ll know, one way or another, if the man you saw leave with Rudy is the same man who disposed of the item Rudy had with him. I’ll tell you this. My list is the last lead to your father’s fate. If it fails, nobody will ever learn what happened to him.”
Schatz stubbed his cigarette out and lit another.
“Think about it,” he added, infuriatingly sure of himself. “Consider what you could do with a half-million dollars. We need one another. I have the list, you can identify the man. Tomorrow, Pearl and I are leaving on a sales swing downstate. We’ll be back in a few days, and I’ll contact you for your answer. If you agree to join me, I’ll set up a headquarters here, while you check out those names. You can explain your absences from town by saying you’re thinking of buying a piece of my business, and you want to see if you like selling dresses. If you decide not to join me, I’ll continue the search on my own.” The old man smiled grimly. “And don’t be so foolish as to go to the police or anyone else with this story. After what happened to me and Rudy, I’ve become quite astute about the tactics of eavesdroppers and surveillance teams. If I’m put under observation, I’ll know it. If the police ask about my list, I’ll deny it exists. They’ll never find it, and they have no hold on me. I’m not a parolee. By telling the police, all you’d do is force me to try to make a deal with Little Lou Gardino, who’d most certainly come looking for the list if he heard about it.”
* * * *
Outside, Jon took a deep breath of air.
Overhead, thick clouds raced across the night sky. The storm was breaking up, and here and there stars glimmered.
Behind Jon, Pearl said, “Well?”
She leaned against the wall, arms folded over her chest. She’d removed the rain hood and coat. Her blonde tresses tumbled in disarray, and the expression on her face was one of amusement.
“You didn’t lose your temper?” she asked. “You didn’t punch the old man in the nose when he told you what we’ve been doing? How we’ve been looking for your old man’s body, to dig up the bones and cash an insurance policy?”
“No,” Jon admitted. “Not even when he asked me to join you.”
“And will you join us?”
“What do you think?”
Angrily, Jon walked away. He knew very well what he had to do. He’d known from the moment Schatz made his proposition. His anger stemmed from the fact that he’d discovered something. He was still afraid. Unreasonably, he still feared the man who threatened to kill him, the man who warned him that if he told, he’d hear about it and track Jon down.
Well, that made Jon’s decision all the more irrevocable…
As he neared his car, Jon detected a slight movement in the shadows under a tree at the rim of the parking lot. That was an odd place for anyone to be at this hour…
He stopped.
Pearl was no longer in sight. She’d gone into the motel.
Jon walked to the tree, a distance of about fifty yards.
Nobody was under it any more, but someone had just been there. Trampled grass showed he’d been positioned to command a view of the portion of the motel that held Schatz’s unit.
Two cigarette butts lay on the ground, one still smoking faintly. And on a cement path leading to a side street screened by a high hedge, the fresh, black, wet outlines of a man’s footprints gleamed.
It was, Jon mused, something to think about. First, the man he’d seen earlier in the evening from his apartment window, the one who so resembled the man who’d left the brownstone with his father, ducking into the bar across the street. And now this…
CHAPTER 7
Two days later, Jon drove to Wisconsin and bought an M-l carbine from Skipper Molloy. He and Molloy took it out to the shooting range behind Molloy’s house, where Jon sighted it in at a hundred yards. Molloy didn’t think it was the right gun for Jon. For killing deer, he said, a crack shot like Jon would be better off with a bolt-action rifle and a longer barrel.
It was too hard to explain that Jon didn’t have deer in mind. “No, I want this,” Jon told him. “Some big magazines, too. A fifteen-rounder. And a thirty-rounder.”
“What you planning to do? Fight another war?”
“Not me. One was more than enough. Let’s just say,” Jon added vaguely, “that I’m a collector.”
They hiked to Molloy’s home, a modern, ranch-style dwelling built on the site of an old farmhouse. The farm structures had been torn down, and all that remained of the property’s original use was the well, now boarded up. Molloy had prospered in Wisconsin. He’d teamed with his uncle in a hardware and sporting-goods business. Hunters soon found they could get expert advice on guns and ammunition from the ex-all-American. When the uncle died, Molloy inherited the business and some rural real estate. He’d bought more land and was now one of his county�
�s wealthiest taxpayers.
Jon’s relationship with Molloy was awkward. For years he’d hated the man, but Mike Bonella had changed that. Once after Jon denounced Molloy to Mike, Bonella said, “Maybe he didn’t act so nice. But what you don’t understand is, the props were knocked from under him when he couldn’t play football. He went from hero to bum, in one season. Suddenly he had no dignity, no purpose. A man does funny things when he’s got no purpose, things he’s ashamed of later, so instead of hating Molloy so much maybe you should pity him a little…”
Jon remembered that when Molloy turned up after a high-school football game in which Jon played. A hulking figure on the path to the dressing room, he’d been hesitant, almost afraid to let Jon see him, but Jon greeted him warmly, introduced him to the team and then brought him home for dinner with the Bonellas. Neither said a word about the old days. After that, Jon and the Bonellas went to Molloy’s place in Wisconsin often, where Molloy gave Jon tips on football and taught him to handle and shoot guns. Thanks to Molloy, Jon had been a small-arms expert long before entering the Army. But in Jon’s presence, Molloy was still disturbingly apologetic, a shade too easy to please, due no doubt to his feelings of guilt about how he’d behaved in the brownstone, and Jon wished to hell he’d get over it.
In Molloy’s living room, Jon settled into a chair and said, “I’ll want a case for the carbine, too. And some ammo. Incidentally, you remember Schatz?”
“That old thief? Sure.” Molloy went to a window and stared out. He’d developed a small pot belly, but otherwise he still had the rangy build of a halfback. “What about him?”
“He looked me up. He’s legitimate now. He wants me to invest in a dress factory.”
“Don’t do it. Maybe he did go straight, but he’s still a kook.”
“What makes you think so?”
Scowling, Molloy turned. “He came up here when you were in the Army. He had a girl with him, a blonde who waited in the car. It was real weird. He was looking for your old man’s body and wondered if I knew where to find it. Can you beat it? And he said if I knew, he wouldn’t tell. Instead, he’d pay me part of the insurance money he’d get if he could dig it up.”
The James Michael Ullman Crime Novel Page 46