by Horace McCoy
'I went to the Detective Bureau and talked to Inspector Trushka about it, and Trushka promised to help me. I used to be a police reporter years ago, and I gave Trushka favorable publicity from time to time—as a matter of fact I practically made him an Inspector, single-handed—'
'Never mind, Dolan,' the Senator said.
'I hate to bore you, Senator, but this story has got a point. Trushka promised to have a couple of dicks stand by for a phone call from me—and a couple days later I got the flash that this guy who was asking all the questions was in the office of a friend of mine. I phoned Trushka and the two dicks met me there. We picked the guy up and took him to police headquarters. He admitted being a private dick, but he would admit nothing else.
'Well, the coppers don't particularly care for private dicks at best, so we took this fellow to a little room down in the basement. A sound-proof room, Senator, with only one chair—a replica of an electric chair—in the middle, with a big spotlight shining in the face of whoever sits in it. We strapped this fellow in and bruised him up a little, but still he wouldn't talk. So we went to work on him with the rubber hose—and a couple of hours later he admitted that Fred Coughlin had hired him.
'I thought this was a little out of line, because Coughlin was no angel himself, so I hung around for a couple of weeks waiting to nail him. Oh yes, I forgot to tell you that I used to be nuts about miniature camera work—you know, the candid cameras. Well, my agents tipped me off one night that he was at a certain hotel in a certain room with a young girl—he likes 'em young, the high-school age, so I went up in the corridor and hid in the maid's closet until he came out. You won't believe that he was dumb enough to come out with the girl, instead of leaving her behind, but he did, and I got a swell flash-lamp picture of them together. I've got the negative in the safe-deposit vault. I'll print it up some time if you're interested. I sent Coughlin a print—and since then he's been all right.
'So—that's rather a long answer to a simple question, but it clears up the doubt in your mind about the private detective.'
'Very interesting,' the Senator said.'—Were you in love with Coughlin's daughter?'
'Come, come, my dear Senator—let's not rake up the past. We are concerned only with the present—'
'Stop being dramatic, Dolan, and tell me what you intend doing about Lillian—'
'I'd like to talk that over with Lillian first—Do you mind if I smoke?'
'Go ahead, go ahead. Of course, you know this marriage is positively impossible. Are you going to rectify it—or am I going to have to take action myself?'
'What action could you possibly take—Senator?' Dolan asked, lighting a cigarette. 'Lillian is my wife—'
'Not yet, she isn't. I could have it annulled.'
'On what grounds?'
'That she isn't really your wife. That you've—er—never slept with her.'
'Oh, let's not be stupid about this, Senator. You know very well the only way to get an annulment is for me to subscribe to it. You can't take this thing into court. I don't want it to go into court.'
'Well, you don't think for one moment that you're in love with Lillian, do you?'
'That I wouldn't know. She's beautiful and nice—and I'm very fond of her. But love—I wouldn't know'
'Of course,' the Senator said grimly, 'I could have this remedied myself—but that would be messy—and I hate violence—'
'Now cut out the dramatics, Senator. You could, but you won't—'
The Senator wrinkled his forehead, thinking.
'Look here,' he said finally. 'I want to break this up and send Lillian away to Europe for a year or two. I appeal to your sportsmanship to give her up without a scandal.'
'You touch me in a tender spot, Senator. I've always been a good sportsman, but lately I've learned that there's no such word in the bright lexicon of success, if you don't mind the trite phrase. It's a game of dog eat dog. You ought to know that. You've been through the mill.'
'What will induce you to give her up?'
'It seems to me you're assuming a lot of things. Admitting I don't love her—but am fond of her—how do you know she doesn't love me?'
The Senator did not answer, walking rapidly to the bell-cord, pulling it, and then turned facing the door, smiling as if he had been waiting for this opportunity.
The Negro came in.
'Ask Miss Lillian to step in here—'
The Negro stepped back, the suggestion of a smile on his face, and Lillian came in. She evidently had been waiting in the library. Dolan was surprised. He wondered how much of the conversation she had overheard.
'Hello, Lillian,' he said, getting up, putting out his cigarette.
'Hello—well, father, dear—'
'I think if you'll tell Mr. Dolan what you told me tonight, I can arrange this—'
'Tell him about what, Daddy?'
'About your not loving him—'
'Oh,' Lillian said, turning to Dolan. 'What Daddy says is true. I don't love you—'
'Who decided you didn't love me—you or he?'
'Oh, I decided. You really didn't take me seriously, did you?' she asked innocently.
'—For a minute I did,' Dolan said, laughing. 'Yes, you certainly fooled me—'
'I just did it for the fun of it,' Lillian said, 'I didn't think you'd take me seriously—'
'That's all, Lillian,' the Senator said. 'You may go now—'
'Good night,' Lillian said.
'Good night,' Dolan called.'—Marvellous sense of humor,' he said to the Senator, when she had gone.
'Well—you see I was right.'
'Yes, you were. I don't think she loves me—'
'Of course, she doesn't. And you don't want to be married to a girl who doesn't love you, do you? Of course you don't! Now will you agree that an annulment is the best way?'
'Absolutely,' Dolan said. 'Absolutely.'
'Fine!' the Senator said, rubbing his hands briskly, rolling the cigar around in his mouth. 'You know Oppenheimer in the bank building?'
'Yes—'
'He's my lawyer. You meet me there at ten o'clock tomorrow morning and he'll have the papers ready.'
'I'll be there,' Dolan said. 'Well—'
'My boy,' the Senator said, beaming, shaking Dolan's hand. 'You're very sensible—Come, I'll take you to the door—'
'Thanks, Senator,' Dolan said. “There's only one thing you've overlooked.'
The Senator frowned.
'I've got something you want—and you've got something I want. That's a pretty good premise for making a deal, isn't it?'
'I don't quite see what you're driving at—'
'The fact is, Senator, I'm rather badly in need of money—'
Every muscle in Mark Fried's body locked, and he stood staring from beneath his bushy eyebrows.
'I need this money to carry on a sort of business I'm in—and I thought probably you might help me.'
'A shakedown, eh? A deliberate shakedown—'
'Not deliberate. The idea only occurred to me a minute ago. When Lillian made it so plain she didn't love me. You remember—when she said she only got married for the fun of it. I came out here to call off the whole thing, and now I find Lillian had fun. That'll cost you—'
'I won't give you a goddam penny!'
'No dough,' Dolan said mildly, 'no annulment.'
'I'll have you fixed for this. I'll have you taken care of, you goddam blackmailing Irisher!'
'Not blackmail, Senator—business. I need money and you've got money. I want fifty thousand dollars.'
'Fifty thou—'
'I'm not going to argue. Fifty G's.'
'Why, why—' the Senator sputtered.
'—I'll give you twenty-five—' he snapped.
'Thirty-seven five—'
'Thirty-five. Yes or no?'
'—Yes. I'll meet you at ten o'clock tomorrow morning in Oppenheimer's office—Don't bother, Senator. I can find the door—'
* * * * *
Cully, the for
eman of the mechanical department, was a little dubious about printing another run of the Cosmopolite. Yes, he had heard about what happened to the magazines last night, and he thought it was a damned shame, too, but then he had a schedule to maintain, and today was the day he had to print and bind the monthly magazine of that insurance company, and that would take most of the day. Anything that interfered with that would delay everything and send the men into overtime, and then Lawrence would really hit the ceiling.
'I'll take full responsibility,' Dolan said.
'I know, Mike—but I'd rather Mr. Lawrence okayed it.'
'But I've told you Lawrence isn't home. They said he had left for the office.'
'He ought to be here by now—'
'I know he ought, but he isn't—and he may not come in for an hour. I don't want to lose any more time. Look, Cully—all that type's still in the formes, isn't it?'
'Yes—it's still in the formes all right—'
'Then what the hell. Stick 'em on the machines and have at it. What was the press run yesterday?'
'Twenty-two something—'
'Make this one thirty-five hundred.'
'It's going to gum up my schedule—'
'Well, if the other job goes into overtime, I'll pay it. Now, have at it, will you?'
'All right, Mike—but if Lawrence says anything—'
'I'll take care of that. Just bear down—'
'Hi, Cully—'
'Hello, Ed—'
'What about it?' Bishop asked Dolan.
'Okay. Let's get out of here and let Cully go to work,' Dolan said, walking out of the press-room into the corridor. 'See Bud?'
'Yeah. Look,' he said, showing the deputy sheriff's badge. 'This is kind of cheap looking. Bud's got one with a diamond in it—given him by the Elks or Moose or something. Ten minutes more and I'd had that one.'
'Did he give you a gun?'
'No, he loaned me one. Police Positive thirty-eight. Says he got it off Pretty Boy Floyd that time he picked him out here—but I think he's a goddam liar.'
'Bud likes to impress people with the big-time criminals he's known.'
'I know. Good guy, though—'
They entered the office.
'Did you get it?' Myra asked.
Bishop nodded, lifted the tail of his coat so she could see the pistol in his hip pocket.
'Badge, holster—everything. Guess where I was sworn in?”
'Where?' Dolan said.
'In the lavatory of the barber shop across the street. Bud said he had to be careful. Imagine it—a can! Symbolic, what?' he said, laughing.
'What about Cully?' Myra asked Dolan.
The dull battling roll of the press came over.
'That the Cosmopolite!' Myra asked.
'Yes—'
'Swell! Extra swell! We'll show that bastard where he gets off!'
'What about the news-stands?' Bishop asked. 'Carlisle strong-armed 'em once, he'll do it again.'
'Will he?' Dolan said, walking over to the back window, motioning them to follow. 'Take a look at that—'
In the parking lot in the rear of the plant, under the roof of the open shed where Lawrence left his trucks, were seven or eight men standing around.
'Gorillas,' Dolan said. 'Mugs. They speak Carlisle's language. Know where I got 'em? Out of the police department's Peerage. Emmett corralled 'em for me.'
'When did you see Emmett?' Bishop asked, surprised.
'This morning. Six o'clock this morning. I went to his home. I explained what had happened and told him I needed some help—and there they are. I'd like to see somebody try to strong-arm those babies—'
'Well, I'll be a sonofabitch if he didn't go to the chief of police to get help,' Bishop said, slapping Dolan on the back. 'When did you think of this?'
'Last night when I took that ride neither one of you wanted me to take. That wasn't all I thought of either—'
'What?' they asked.
'It's not in the bag yet, but if it goes through, our worries are over.'
'Money?' Bishop asked. 'It is money. From whom?'
'Fried—'
'Oh, so that's where you went last night,' Myra said. 'What happened?'
'Stop bawling me out,' Dolan said, turning to Bishop to explain to him. 'I was riding around last night thinking about a lot of things and wound up at Lillian's. I don't know why I went there or anything. I didn't start out with the idea of going there—but bang! and there I was.'
'And I suppose she fell right into your arms—' Myra said.
'Shut up,' Dolan said, over his shoulder. 'Well, the upshot of the whole thing was that she said she only married me for the fun of it and that she didn't love me—'
'The old man ribbed her into saying that—'
'Sure, he did. He was there when all this happened. He called her in as Exhibit A to prove I should have the marriage annulled. She thought it was a hell of a swell joke.'
'It must have been funny, at that,' Bishop said. 'Go on—'
'That's all. I said okay, we'll have the thing annulled. Only—I wanted fifty thousand bucks to do it—'
'God!' Bishop said, whistling. 'Fifty thousand! Did you get it?'
'I settled for thirty-five. I'm meeting Fried this morning at his lawyer's office to sign the papers—'
'Hell, you're a wizard,' Bishop said, shaking his head. 'That thirty-five and the four grand we've got in Myra's name'll put out a lot of magazines. Maybe I could get a couple of hundred advance, you know, the kid being down—'
'Sure, sure, Ed. Look. All right I worried—'
'Why, for God's sake! Your worries are over. You've got nothing to worry about—'
'That money Fried promised me. I feel like a heel—'
'Will you listen to the guy?' Bishop said to Myra. 'Look here, Mike. You're entitled to that dough. For God's sake, will you ever get it through your head that the guy with scruples nowadays is always the guy who gets screwed? Besides, that money is going to a worthy cause—'
'You mean the magazine. Sure, that's what I thought,' Dolan said soberly. 'That's exactly why I made him the proposition. What do you think, Myra?' he asked, walking over to the desk where Myra was standing, chewing on a pencil.
'I think you're goddam lucky he didn't break your neck,' Myra said.
'Oh, so you think I'm a heel,' Dolan said, quietly. 'I ought to bust you in the nose so's not to let you think I mind!'
'You know why you're so suddenly sore, don't you?' Myra said quietly. 'You really do know, don't you?'
'I ought to smack you one for luck—knock some of that sarcasm out of you—'
'Lay off, you two,' Bishop growled, coming around between them. 'Never did I see anything like it. One of these days I won't be here when you start snapping, and then what'll happen? Lay off—'
Dolan growled in his throat, something unintelligible, and Bishop moved from between them towards the front window.
'—Mike,' he called softly...
Dolan caught an ominous quality in the tone and moved swiftly behind him, looking over his shoulder.
A man had just emerged from the office and was crossing the street. He was a small man, unimpressive from the rear. They watched him cross the street and take up a position waiting for a trolley-car. When he finally turned, facing the building, both Bishop and Dolan stepped quickly away from the window so he could not see them.
'Funny he didn't come up to see us,' Dolan said.
'No, it's not. He doesn't think we're important enough—'
'Who is it?' Myra asked.
'Jack Carlisle,' Dolan said, biting his lip.
Myra crossed quickly to the window to take a look.
'Don't let him see you looking,' Dolan said.
'I'm not,' she said, easing her head along the wall, peeping out the window. 'He's not looking this way... so that's the local dictator! Well...' she said, coming away from the window, 'the sight of him explains a number of questions I've been puzzled about—'
The dull clatter
of the press, that had furnished an undertone for their conversation, suddenly stopped.
Dolan and Bishop looked at each other.
'Come on,' Dolan said.
He rushed downstairs with Bishop behind him and went into Lawrence's office without knocking. Lawrence was just taking off his raincoat.
'Did you stop that press?' Dolan asked.
'Yes—and I'll stop it again if it's ever started without my approval,' Lawrence said, coming back to his desk. 'By what right do you give orders here?'
'I tried to get you and couldn't—and I was anxious to get a re-run of the magazine,' Dolan said. 'Why? What's so wrong with that?'
'You know very well that today is the day we put out the insurance house-organ. We've had that contract too long to violate it now'
'That's not the reason,' Bishop said.
'Wait a minute, Ed,' Dolan said. 'Jack Carlisle's visit here wouldn't have anything to do with stopping the press, would it?'
'Carlisle—Carlisle ...'
'Stop stalling. I just saw him cross the street—'
'Mr. Carlisle was here,' Lawrence admitted. 'He suggested that it might be—'
'He didn't suggested anything. He ordered it. Well, all right. What about it? Are you going to let him intimidate you?'
'It's not intimidation—it's that I wouldn't want to be drawn into a libel suit. I told you when I read the article that I thought—'
'Answer my question—do you print this magazine or don't you?'
'Well, Dolan, it's like this—'
'I told you he was yellow,' Bishop said. 'I told you he'd crawl—'
'Okay,' Dolan said. 'I'll print it somewhere else. I'll take what's been run off so far and the formes, and I'll do it somewhere else. No objection, is there?'
'Why, certainly not,' Lawrence said, relieved.
'That's what's wrong with this country,' Bishop said, leaning over the desk. 'A lot of gutless little squirts like you, you bastard—'
'Come on,' Dolan said.
They went into the press-room. There was a stack of magazine sheets on the cutting machine and another stack on the table, where the girls were folding and binding them. Cully came up to them, looking doleful.
'Well,' he said.
'We're moving,' Dolan said. 'I'll have a truck here in a few minutes, and we'll take what's been done. Formes too.'