by Dell Shannon
"Katya, so rude to the officer, please take care."
"But Miss Roslev's quite right, we don't bite," smiled Mendoza at her. "Why do you think his death is connected with Mr. Skyros?"
"I'll tell you why, what I came to say, see? Stevan, he told me about it— told us— last time he was there, it was. He'd found out something about this Mr. Skyros— something bad, he thought— See, he'd had to work late one night, there was a big shipment some kind come in— and he went up to Mr. Skyros' office, ask him something, and heard him and somebody else talking— and he said it sounded like it was about something bad, crooked you know— he said. I wouldn't put it past Mr. Skyros, be mixed up in something like that, only— "
"Something crooked. What kind of something, what did he overhear exactly?"
"I don't know," she said, sullen again. "Just, it was about a lot of money, he said. Worth an awful lot. He didn't say exact— but I thought— maybe since, he found out more, and they killed him so's he couldn't tell, see? Because he said then— police ought to know about crooks, if they was— "
"Katya, you shouldn't say, we don't know for sure— Mr. Skyros, a lot of money he'll have, he see you get in jail, to say— "
"I guess not! I'm not afraid o' him, nor the cops neither! You go and ask him what he knows, see?"
"But you haven't given me anything very definite to go on, Miss Roslev. If you could remember a more specific phrase, a word?"
She was silent awhile, looking at him; and then she said, "I s'pose you got to have more, like you say. Can't do nothing if you don't know .... Well, I told you anyhow. I guess— all I could tell you, mister— and maybe— "
"Katya— " The old woman was still nervous of Mendoza, of Authority; and the girl let herself be urged out .... Mendoza was still ruminating on them when Hackett came in, and they exchanged news.
"It's nothing at all, of course. No, I wouldn't be surprised if Skyros sails a little close to the wind in business, but so what? Even if Domokous had somehow got hold of proof, I don't see Skyros doing murder over it, do you? More likely to buy him off. And that kind of murder— a very pro business .... Of course, there's such a thing as cover. And maybe he's running more businesses than one. Like Mr. Bratti. Yes, a couple of little points in what these other clerks said. I have an idea that Mr. Skyros, shrewd a businessman as he may be, underrates us just a little, you know. He didn't think we'd check up far on what he said about Domokous— and evidently he didn't know about Katya Roslev and her grandmother. But nothing much to get hold of in all that."
Hackett agreed. "By the way, what did that obnoxious insurance fellow want? I was sorry to miss the snubbing you'd hand him."
Mendoza grinned. "Why, Art, you know we're trained these days to be as polite as can be to civilians. I never said a cross word to him."
"I'll bet," said Hackett. "I gathered he's an insurance investigator? Mendoza regarded his lighter meditatively. "If the head-doctors are right in some of their theories— which I frequently doubt— our Mr. Driscoll must have a king-size inferiority complex. Overcompensating, as they say, like mad. He's read all the paperback mysteries about the smart-as-paint private eyes— quite a fad lately for making them insurance detectives, you know— and he knows just how he ought to act. I'll bet you fifty to one he religiously wears a shoulder holster and drinks five Martinis before dinner whether he likes them or not, or could hit the side of a barn with a shotgun. And addresses every female under forty as Beautiful— and, Dios, how he'd like to have everyone think they all fall for him in rows and he's never slept alone for the last twenty-five years, since he was a precocious teen-ager."
Hackett laughed. "I read him the first look too. What was he after?"
Mendoza snapped the lighter and lit his cigarette. "I'm damned if I know. And also damned curious. What he wanted to know was why Skyros had been here yesterday. And when I told him and asked why he was interested, he came out with a couple of smart-aleck unfunny wisecracks, said it was private firm business and I wouldn't be interested anyway, and swaggered out. Private eyes, you know, they always act that way with these stolid stupid regular cops."
"You don't say— interested in Skyros? So maybe it's an insurance racket— this piece of crookedness that's going to be worth a lot of money? I wonder if Skyros ever had a warehouse burn down or something like that, and the insurance company's a little leery of him, looking into his private life?"
"Which bright thought crossed my mind too. I've got Landers looking into it. I also attached a tail to our Mr. Driscoll. After all, he asked for it .... No, nothing in Domokous' stuff, I didn't think there would be. Maybe there never was, or maybe somebody got there first. One thing, I want those two letters translated pronto. And— " Mendoza sat up and called Sergeant Lake. "Has Higgins called in on Skyros? Where is he now?"
"Just a little big ago. From the Beverly-Hilton— looks like Skyros is fixing to have lunch there with some dame."
"Well, well. Could this also be the same dreary old tale, tired middle-aged businessman cheating on his wife? I think I'll go and take a look— you can hold down the regular table at Federico's, Art."
* * *
Higgins was propping the wall just outside the main dining room of the hotel, looking a little seedy in comparison with most of the guests and visitors in this haunt of sophisticates. When he saw Mendoza he stepped out to meet him."
"It's 0.K., Lieutenant, he can't see us from where they're sitting, and there's only one entrance— I looked. The dame kept him waiting quite a while, and I grabbed a sandwich at the bar where I could keep an eye on him. Six bits for a cheese sandwich!"
"Well, it goes on your expense account," said Mendoza.
"It's the principle of the thing. Highway robbery. This looks kind of N.G. to me— he's just been ordinary places, home and work— and if he's stepping out on his wife, it's not exactly illegal, you can't arrest him for that. Me, I never can figure out why they bother. Go to all that trouble, thinking up lies to tell the wife and so on. I don't say there isn't any female worth it, but I do say they'd be the hell of a lot smarter to get rid of one before they take on another."
"But then you're a very moral fellow," said Mendoza.
"It's not my morals, it's my blood pressure," said Higgins. "I like a quiet life myself. You quitting the tail on him?"
"No, you carry on." Mendoza went into the dining room, glanced around casually for Skyros, was trapped by an obsequious headwaiter, just as he spotted him, and ensconced at a small table where all he could see of Skyros' companion was her hat. It was a large hat, with a transparent stiff brim of black lace, and sat nearly on the back of her head, effectively screening her profile when she turned, and a good deal of Skyros across the table. Visible below it were round white shoulders only partially covered by a black-and-white printed gown, low-cut back and (probably) front, and one round white arm bearing a wide gold bracelet, a scarlet-nailed hand extravagant in gesture.
"Something to drink before lunch, sir?"
"No, thanks," said Mendoza, whose vices did not include alcohol as one of life's necessities. He ordered at random, an unobtrusive eye on Skyros. He would not be displeased if Skyros happened to notice him: this whole thing was up in the air, nothing to get hold of, and if Skyros was mixed up in it in any way, it could be useful to give him the idea that they knew a bit more than they did. Frequently that prompted a suspect to do something silly and revealing.
Skyros, however, wasn't doing much looking around; he seemed entirely occupied with the girl-friend. At the same time, he didn't look quite like a man entertaining the extracurricular sex interest. He wiped a perspiring brow frequently in spite of the air-conditioning; he fidgeted with the cutlery, and his expression was now unhappy, now falsely genial. The girl-friend was doing most of the talking; he tried to interrupt several times and shrugged at failure.
Mendoza ate an anonymous lunch absently, watching and thinking. They had almost finished when he came in; they sat over drinks of some kind— bra
ndy, by the glasses— and as the waiter whisked Mendoza's plate away, offered more coffee, Skyros got up. The woman was more leisurely, sliding gracefully out of her chair, smoothing her skirt— revealing a pair of eye-catching legs ending in slim spike heels.
Skyros put a gallant hand on her elbow as they turned for the door. And she was something to be gallant about, all right: a very handsome piece of goods indeed, in exotic style. Black hair in a smooth fashionable coiffure, dead-white complexion, sharply arched brows, dark red lipstick, flashing stones at her ears and throat.
They had to pass within a few feet of his table to reach the door, and Mendoza watched them steadily, willing Skyros to look and see him: but Skyros was oblivious, wiping his brow again, looking agitated. And she was scarcely, by her expression, bent on exuding glamour; she looked very angry. They came past, the woman still talking in an under-tone over her shoulder, and he caught a phrase or two— not English: Greek, Russian? He also caught a waft of powerful musky scent. And then they were out the door and gone— transferred to Higgins.
"Will that be all, sir? A little cognac perhaps?"
"No, that's all .... ¡qué disparate!" said Mendoza to himself, reaching for his wallet. “¡Bastante! This is making up fairy tales with a vengeance." Alison's black-eyed hussy in spike heels, smelling like a high-class brothel .... "Impossible. Ridiculous. This is not one of Mr. Driscoll's paperback thrillers!"
SIX
"But you must be sensible, dear madame!" said Mr. Skyros. "These wild ideas— " He wiped his brow agitatedly.
"I am surprised," said Madame Bouvardier, "that a businessman should be so impractical. But two thoughts I have about this also, and n'importe the second one. I find you irritating in the extreme, Mr. Skyros."
"My dear lady, there is a saying, one cannot have one's cake and also eat it. This insurance money, it is obviously impossible to claim it when— "
"It is not impossible at all, and I see nothing whatever criminal in doing so! I will most certainly not do as you suggest, to give it back to them and tell this elaborate lie of how I recover the collection! The company, it has insured the Lexourion collection, has it not? The, what is the word, premium, it is paid— all is good faith both sides— very well— the collection is stolen, it is gone, so the company must pay. Why do they not pay me? That is their business. Anything else to do with the collection, it is my business. It belonged to my father, I am his only child, naturally it now belongs to me. There is nothing difficult to grasp here."
"But, my dear lady— you do not suppose the insurance firm will pay, or allow you to keep the money, without investigating— -when they find you again have the collection— "
"Naturally they investigate. There is a man comes to see me only yesterday, a very unpleasant ill-bred man named Driscoll, who does not know how to behave with a lady. But then he is of course an American. I must say, I find it uncouth of these insurance people that they should at once suspect there is wrongdoing— but I am very gracious to him, I tell him he is welcome to search, he can see I have not got it, they know from the police it is truly stolen, and it has not been sold to anyone by the thieves— the police watch, I daresay, the insurance men also, and it is still vanished. Very well, then they must pay. I am not a fool, Mr. Skyros, and I do not let it be at all obvious that I have got the collection back! In Europe, there are men of honor who will pay me privately to have the privilege to house it. But also, I do not allow myself to be held up by gangsters! This— this Irishman, this Donovan, he is not an honorable man and he is also much too greedy. In the nature of things, a thief sells his plunder in secret, he is lucky to receive a fifth of its value— this is well known. The bargain you say you made with Donovan, for ten thousand of your dollars. And now he tries to withdraw, he says it is not enough, he will have twenty. I think I was a fool to trust you to make the bargain."
“Dear madame, you surely don't suspect that I would be dishonest with you? I protest— it's only a favor on my part, I'm earning no profit— "
"Me, I am Greek too," she reminded him darkly, "if I do live in France most of my life— we know each other! Better to deal with this gangster directly. I am not afraid of gangsters, I have seen them on the films. They are like little children playing with wooden guns, behaving very tough as you say, but stupid men without cunning. Well, there is another saying, two can play at one game. He will keep the bargain he has made or he will be sorry."
"I assure you, not children," said Skyros. "I would not dream of allowing you to deal with such men— they can be very dangerous— you know how they have already killed this poor clerk of mine, because he overheard some talk— "
"Yes, but they would not offer harm to me, for in that case they get no money at all! I will see that he keeps the bargain, and after the insurance money is paid, all is accomplished, and I take the collection home."
"All is not accomplished. You can't have it both ways, we shall all be in trouble if you persist. It will be known you have the collection again, the insurance people will call you a thief— "
"That is very stupid and bad faith, they are liable to pay when it is stolen, anything afterward is my own affair. And besides— "
"But you can never smuggle it out of the country— "
"Oh, that is easiest of all! But there is no need to discuss that at the moment." Suddenly she produced a gracious smile, reached to pat his hand. "You have done your best, Mr. Skyros, to help me in this matter, and be sure I appreciate it. It is only, perhaps, that I am one of those people, I never feel a thing is properly done unless I do it myself! Do not worry about me, my friend— I know my own business."
"But I do beg you to take care," he said earnestly. "Do not be foolhardy, dear lady."
"That I never am, Mr. Skyros."
* * *
Women! thought Mr. Skyros exasperatedly. Especially these strong— minded ones. The deal had been set up— in a bit of a hurry, admittedly, but a perfectly straightforward deal— before he had met the woman, and he had never expected her to be so difficult. And worst of all, he had a vague feeling that she no longer trusted him as the innocent middleman.
He drove back to town, shut himself into his office, and called Donovan. "She is obstinate, very obstinate. She refuses to pay more, and my friend, I think we'd better leave it there, isn't it? The profit's not so bad— and she has some crazy ideas in her head, you know, get us all in trouble— "
"Listen, I'm not born yesterday, I know what it's worth now and when I know it's insured for two hundred thousand smackers, listen, Skyros, I don't go along with no piddling deal like ten G's! Particularly when I got to cut it with you. You set it up with my kid brother, so O.K., but I'm handling both our affairs now just like it allus was, and you're dealin' with me now. She's got no choice— she wants the stuff, she pays."
"But, my friend, she is the only customer!"
"That don't necessarily mean she can set the price. She takes it or leaves it. You say she wants it damn bad. O.K., then she pays." The phone slammed down at the other end.
Mr. Skyros cast his eyes to heaven and swore several oaths in two languages. He was a fool ever to have got mixed up in this business. And it had looked so easy, so casual, to start with— money dropping from heaven! All, you might say, for a few kind words spoken. Nothing to it at all. This crazy female— this crazy idea about the insurance. A thousand devils, she'd get them all in jail with her if she tried that! And try to talk to her! Sure, sure, the ordinary thing, the diamond necklace, the bearer bonds, it's just another little deal, you keep it, easy— the insurance company can't prove anything. But a deal like this, just not good sense. The customs— Two hundred thousand—
For that matter, try to talk to Donovan, who was just as crazy. These low-class robbers, no understanding of finesse, not the most rudimentary cunning. It was a simple matter of supply and demand, couldn't he see that? Here was a thing almost impossible for a fence to dispose of in the underworld market: no fence would take it off his hands, much
less give him ten thousand for it. And here was a buyer willing to pay that. One could not be too greedy: it never paid in the end. One had to sell goods for what one could get. And now, because Donovan got this crazy idea in his head—
Mr. Skyros swore again. He had the dreadful feeling that this thing, which had looked so little, so easy, was putting him in personal danger. He had always been so careful (like Bratti, and one thousand curses on him too) to keep clear of the business on the surface, stay looking respectable. If any of this came out at all . . . And Domokous had come very close to connecting him. Inevitable that he'd had to appear in that business, and it had been a brilliant inspiration, to try for two birds with one stone, involve Bratti in the death— but had it come off? He hadn't dared say more. He was confident in any case that Domokous was written off safely.
But he felt as if he was walking a tightrope between Donovan and this crazy woman. Just because both of them were so greedy. The love of money, reflected Mr. Skyros unhappily, is the root of all evil. Indeed.
And about that time his bookkeeper came in to tell him that the police had been there asking questions about Domokous, and gave him something else to worry about.
* * *
"Listen, I don't like it, Jackie," said Denny Donovan anxiously to his brother. "Ask me, the quicker we're out from under this one the better. Why, hell, it's all gravy anyways— only luck I got the stuff first place— "
“I ain't no flat wheel," said Jackie Donovan obstinately. "Who was it had sense enough find out how much it is worth, 'stead o' taking this Skyros' word for it? Anybody crazy, pay two hundred G's for that, but that's what the guy said, I told you. So O.K., we don't let go for less 'n twenty."
" 'S bad luck," said a dreamy voice from the other side of the room. "Allus bad luck, anythin' to do with an ace o' spades— bad luck. Don't want mess with it, Jackie. Get shut o' the hot stuff, an' shut o' the ace o' spades."
"What the hell!" said Jackie. "So what if she's an ace o' spades? I ain't so damn superstitious. You guys lost any sense you had since I got sent across, ain't been here keep an eye out, fix deals for you. Angelo never did have much, but look at him now-out on a sleigh ride half the time— "