by Edson, J. T.
With a couple of G.C.P.D. radio patrol cars and an unmarked vehicle from the Detective Bureau present, the red head and Deputy Sheriff Bradford Counter had been sent back to the condominium to tell Brenda what had happened. Waiting until a team of deputies from the Night Watch arrived with a technician of the Scientific Investigation Bureau, Jack had remained until hearing what the latter had to say. It was not much, or particularly informative, the findings having been negative. Not only had the bullet shattered beyond any hope of reassembly, much less identification, but there was no empty cartridge case in the areaway. Nor was there anything which might lead to the location of the vehicle.
Collecting his Buick, allowing Cousin Ian to enter and lie upon the back seat—which had a plastic covering for such a purpose—the Sheriff had driven to where his informer had been murdered. In accordance with his regulations, Alice and Brad having returned to the party, the team of deputies had followed in their unmarked car close enough to render support if needed. On his arrival, he had talked with the two members of his office who had ‘caught the squeal’. They could tell him as little as he had been able to pass on to the technicians from the S.I.B. The killing had taken place in a lonely area of a neighborhood the inhabitants of which were not prone to telling peace officers of any kind of criminal activity they might have witnessed.
However, noticing a telephone booth a short distance from the chalk outline which showed where the body was found—it having already been removed by the members of the Coroner’s Office who were summoned—Jack could guess what had happened. The informer would never call on his own telephone, but invariably used a public booth some distance from his home. It seemed that, having done so on this occasion, he could have fallen a victim of his obsession for security and secrecy by becoming the object of a robbery which ended in murder. As he was a tough hombre, it was likely that any such attempt would invariably conclude with him either dead or seriously injured if it was to prove successful for the attackers.
While drawing such conclusions, the Sheriff was far too experienced to consider they must offer the only solution!
As the killing occurred so soon after Munez had made the telephone call, Jack did not rule out the possibility of the two events being connected!
Especially after the near escape the Sheriff had had from meeting a similar fate!
There was, however, no basic evidence to connect the two incidents!
According to the senior member of the investigating team of deputies, Munez had been shot at close quarters. The weapon used had been a shotgun of some kind, probably with the barrel shortened, not a firearm with a bolt action and, if the destruction of the missile was any indication, discharging a bullet of very high velocity. What was more, there were signs suggesting his expensive watch and other jewelry had been stripped from him with considerable violence. Also, all his pockets had been rifled. As was common knowledge, he never left his home without a considerable sum of money upon his person and a number of valid credit cards in his own name. These had all gone, as had the switchblade knife and revolver he always carried. Certainly, his trust of the man he was arranging to meet notwithstanding, he would not have set out to make the arrangements and go to the rendezvous he selected without being armed.
That Jack should take it upon himself to visit the scene of the crime had not implied a lack of trust in the abilities of his subordinates!
Nor had either deputy believed such was the case!
There were peace officers who despised the informers upon whom they depended for much information which would otherwise be unavailable to them, but the Sheriff of Rockabye County could not be included in their number. Although there were some for whom he had neither respect nor liking, being aware their motives were of the basest kind, he had always treated even them with consideration. To his way of thinking, no matter how unworthy or obnoxious the reason, they were taking their lives in their hands by acting as stool pigeons and, as he benefited from their perfidy, he had no right to regard them as inconsequential and unimportant.
Munez was different!
Although their paths had taken them along opposing sides of the law, Jack and the informer had been friends since childhood. Not that their close association would have prevented the Sheriff from doing his duty if he had found evidence Munez was guilty of a crime. Nor would the informer have expected otherwise. There was a bond between them which led the criminal to give information about certain things to the peace officer. On other issues, he would remain silent and this reticence would be respected by Jack. In return, Munez had never tried to obtain immunity for crimes as recompense for his services.
With such a rapport between them, even though it was only suspected by the other members of the Sheriff’s Office and they never mentioned it outside their exclusive number, the two deputies could understand why their superior was taking an interest in the murder of Munez. They also noticed he did not attempt to direct their activities, nor offer suggestions which—due to his out ranking them—were really orders. Having learned what there was to know and supplied such details as he considered would help the investigation, he had left it in their hands.
Going to the Department of Public Safety Building, Jack made his way to the office of the Watch Commander to confer with its current occupant. Again, this was not construed as the behavior of an over officious superior unwilling to rely upon the judgment of those beneath him. Probably even more so than the team of deputies, First Deputy Ricardo Alvarez was aware of his close personal ties with Munez and, as a result, felt even less resentment over his arrival. Knowing his involvement with the deceased, the Sheriff was equally cognizant that these might cloud his judgment. Therefore, after they had discussed various aspects of the evening’s events, it was the First Deputy who outlined the procedure which would be followed. The killing of Munez and the attempt upon Jack’s life were, unless evidence indicated otherwise, to be treated as separate and unconnected cases. Each would be investigated by the respective team which had ‘caught the squeal’. The usual routine would be followed where each was concerned.
By the time he had set off for home, the Sheriff knew the wheels of the investigative machinery were in motion. Already the duty staff in the Record Bureau was sifting through their comprehensive files in search of criminals who had sufficient reason to try and kill him. They were also looking for associates who could want Munez dead, and were sufficiently intelligent to achieve this in a way which would disguise the true motive. There was, Jack knew, nothing he could do to further the efforts of the experts. Accepting his presence was superfluous under the circumstances, he had elected to take the wisest course and remove himself.
Making his belated arrival at the dinner party, the Sheriff had apologized to his guests. When the meal was over, he had taken Alice and Brad into his study to bring them up to date on what few developments had taken place. After this was done, the other guests had deduced that the death of the informer was not conducive to a light hearted social gathering and it had broken up somewhat earlier than would otherwise have been the case. There had not been any telephone calls from the Sheriff’s Office, which Brenda and Jack realized meant there were no new developments in the investigation of the murder or the search for the would be killer who had fled from Beaumont Street.
Not until the Sheriff and his wife were in the seclusion of their bedroom did either refer to the case.
‘I hope you get whoever killed him,’ Brenda claimed, having taken a liking to Munez on their first meeting.
‘So do I,’ Jack admitted grimly. Then he relaxed and a grin came to his face as he went on, ‘Hey though, why did you send Alice and Brad out to me. They said it was because all of the Night Watch teams were already catching squeals, but Ric told me it’d been quiet all evening.’
‘I must have misheard him when he called,’ Brenda replied coyly, but untruthfully.
‘Don’t give me that snow job, Limey!’ the sheriff warned, stalking towards his wife and reaching f
or her with both hands. ‘I know what it means when you get that innoc —!’
Before Jack could bring his comment to a conclusion, Brenda caught his right wrist in both hands. Swiveling swiftly, she sent him over her shoulder with a flying mare wrestling throw to alight supine on the bed. Continuing to move with rapidity, she leapt after him and dropped to kneel straddling his torso with her bare thighs. She knew his moods very well and, realizing he wanted something to distract him from thoughts of what had happened earlier that night, was using the kind of rough-and-tumble horseplay which had served such a purpose on numerous other occasions.
‘Don’t adopt that tone with me!’ the beautiful ash blonde ordered, putting hands on hips and looking into her husband’s face. ‘I was only doing my duty as a loyal wife by saving one of your men from a dreadful fate.’
‘Such as?’ the sheriff inquired, lying still and enjoying the view offered by his scantily clad wife, the flimsy nightdress striking him as being far more sensual than if she had been completely naked.
‘Being hooked by an absolutely awful young woman. I feel Alice is far more suitable for Brad.’
‘And how does Brad feel about it?’
‘My dear chap! You don’t think I would trust any mere man to make such a choice as that, do you?’
‘Wouldn’t, huh?’
‘Of course I wouldn’t!’ Brenda asserted, in tones of lofty and superior disdain. ‘Why look at the terrible choice you might have made if I hadn’t taken you in h—!’
The comment ended in a startled yelp, caused by Jack suddenly changing from passive relaxation to positive action. Surging upwards into a sitting position, the combination of his strength and taking Brenda by surprise caused her to topple backwards and slide over the edge of the bed. Grabbing her by the ankles, he hauled her up from the floor. Before she could resist, he flipped her on to her face and, placing a knee on the small of her back, delivered a slap to her bare rump.
‘It’s time you learned who’s boss around here, Limey!’ the sheriff claimed, as the wirily slender body beneath his knee started to writhe vigorously. Delivering another whack to her uncovered bottom, he went on, ‘And that’s for ruining Brad’s love life.’
Forcing herself onto hands and knees, Brenda twisted free. However, as Jack dived on to her, the telephone on the bedside table buzzed. Without leaving his position, he reached over and lifted the receiver. Beneath him, his wife lay without commencing the struggle to escape that she had been contemplating.
‘Tragg!’ a masculine voice said, its accent Bostonian. ‘Sheriff Jack Tragg?’
‘Speaking,’ Jack replied. ‘Who’s this?’
‘I got your “mother-something” stoolie,’ the voice continued, with a hideous chuckle. ‘But, although I missed you on Beaumont, there’ll be other times!’
There was a click and the line went dead!
Moving gently, the Sheriff rose and, one glance being all she needed to know something was very wrong, his wife made no attempt to stop him or resume their tussling!
‘What is it, Jack?’ Brenda asked.
‘Either I’m imagining things!’ the Sheriff said quietly. ‘Or I’ve just had a call from a dead man!’
~*~
‘They’ve left the key in the lock, Jake!’ Deputy Sheriff Ian Grantley reported, at about the time Brenda and Jack Tragg were entering their bedroom. He straightened up from peering into the hole of the door at the Holiday Inn East Hotel to which he and his partner had been directed by the night desk clerk.
‘Some folks just don’t have any consideration,’ replied Deputy Sheriff Jacob Melnick, also holding his voice down to little more than a whisper. ‘Now we’ll either ask to be let in, which probably won’t be taken kindly, or go in the hard way.’
Not only the Sheriff of Rockabye County had received a message asking for a stool pigeon to be contacted that night!
While carrying out a routine patrol, Grantley and Melnick had received a message from Central Control. Finding a telephone booth, the former had dialed the number at which ‘Big Red’ could be reached as instructed by the dispatcher. This was the code name employed by one of his most reliable informers, who was small and a Chicano. Under the circumstances, the information he received was of particular interest. A pair of ‘soldiers’ employed by the Syndicate had arrived in Gusher City to carry out a contract. Although ‘Big Red’ had not learned the identity of their intended victim, he had claimed they were only used to make ‘hits’ against persons of importance. In addition to supplying their descriptions, he had also told the names they were registered under and where they could be located.
Using the same telephone, Grantley had contacted First Deputy Ricardo Alvarez and reported what he had been told by his informer. The Watch Commander had promised to call a friend on the New York Police Department, this being the city of origin of the two ‘soldiers’, to learn more about them. Claiming that ‘Theo’ could not have heard of the pair’s purpose, or the news would have been passed to the Sheriff’s Office, he had said the other might be able to supply details which would help in their apprehension. Having made the connection quickly and been fortunate enough to catch his friend at the Detectives’ Squad Room of the Manhattan South Precinct Station House, Ricardo’s faith was justified. ‘Theo’ not only knew the two criminals, but had been able to suggest a way in which they might be induced to answer questions should they be taken alive. Asking Central Control to instruct his deputies to get in touch with him by telephone, he had passed on his findings when this was done.
Arriving at the hotel, accompanied by the ‘back up’ in the shape of two black and white radio patrol cars and an unmarked vehicle carrying a pair of detectives who had been assigned to them by the dispatcher at Central Control, the deputies had entered alone. Identifying themselves to the desk clerk, they had been informed that the men in whom they were interested had been out all evening and returned a short while earlier. Ascertaining the number of the room occupied by the pair, the peace officers had also been given a master key which would allow them to gain admittance without needing to knock and either announce who they were or try to trick their way in. Leaving their reinforcements positioned strategically to cover them and cut off any attempt at escape, the deputies had gone in search of their quarry.
Unfortunately, obtaining access to the room had not proved the sinecure which the willing cooperation of the desk clerk had suggested might be the case!
While the deputies did not doubt it would be possible to remove the obstruction and employ the master key, they were equally aware of the flaws to such a line of action!
The drapes were closed, preventing Grantley and Melnick from looking through the window and obtaining information to help them decide upon how to act. However, there was sufficient of a gap along the upper edge for them to know the lights of the room were switched on. What was more, before checking the keyhole, the former had heard the occupants moving about. Therefore, should either criminal see the key being pushed from the lock, they would know there was somebody outside, possibly trying to effect an unannounced entrance. In which case, they would take the precaution of arming themselves and all the advantage would be on their side.
‘Ready, amigo?’ Grantley inquired in his softly spoken, leisurely seeming Texas drawl, bringing the short barreled Smith & Wesson Model 27 .357 Magnum revolver from the Lawrence No. 30 cross draw holster beneath the left side of his sports coat.
‘No,’ Melnick replied, having produced his Browning Hi-Power 9mm automatic pistol from its Bianchi Model 17 shoulder holster, his accent also that of a son of the Lone Star State. ‘But you go ahead, like always. Don’t mind me!’
Receiving the kind of assent which was invariably given when he made such a request, Grantley prepared to act upon it. That he should elect to do so was not a matter requiring any debate. He was the senior member of the team, therefore took the lead when going into a potentially dangerous situation. Furthermore, he was the better suited physically to perf
orm the task of effecting the entrance that was now needed. While his partner was dark haired, six foot tall, lean and wiry, he had a three inch height advantage and the massive build of a professional football tackle on which there was not a surplus ounce of fat.
Stepping back across the verandah as far as possible, the burly red haired deputy gave a quick wave to the peace officers on the grounds below. Having alerted them to his intentions, he lunged forward. Dropping his left shoulder, he drove it into the center of the door. There was a crash, the screeching of screws being torn from woodwork and despite the chain bolt having been in place, his charge carried him into the room. Following very closely on his heels, Melnick crossed the threshold at an angle which kept him out of the possible line of fire. What was more, the violence of his entry notwithstanding, he retained sufficient control over his movements to come to a halt ready to take any offensive action which might prove necessary.
The need arose almost immediately!
Only one of the criminals was in the main portion of the room. While he was registered as ‘Philip Thornton’ of Paterson, New Jersey, he fitted the description of Francesco ‘Dirty Frank’ Furillo supplied by ‘Big Red’. Tall, slender, wearing an open necked brown shirt with a lace frilled front, matching slacks and socks, he had the black curly hair and olive complexioned aquiline features of one type of Italian.
Spinning around at the table where he was pouring himself a drink, Furillo let glass and bottle fall from his hands. Although he noticed the badges of office both men had attached to the breast pocket of their sports jackets, he did not wait for them to make their identity and purpose verbally known. Instead, he darted a glance to where his Colt Cobra .38 Special snub-nosed revolver in a shoulder holster hung on the back of the chair by his bed. Realizing it was well beyond his reach, he snarled a Anglo-Saxon expletive and lunged towards the approaching red head.