Gavin winked impudently at her again. “Let’s travel, Mr. Dekertian.”
“Wait.” It was Jones now. He hadn’t followed words; he didn’t know enough. “There’s still a couple of killings to clear up. And a smuggling case. We want Keane.”
Mr. Dekertian was suave. “If you will join us in my suite, Mr. Jones, I believe we can explain to your satisfaction.” His lips twitched. “I will introduce you to that unusual specimen, the honest thief.”
Jones said, “I’ll go along with you now.” He didn’t trust Gavin Keane. Neither did she, but Jones had his money on the wrong man. He was leaving the murderer behind.
Gavin said, “You’ll take care of Liza, Bry.”
“I will.” His hand was under her arm.
She was shattered with horror. They were all of them departing. And Towner Clay was to be left behind, comfortable, safe. With his drink and his treasures and his lovely, empty-headed lady. Left behind to scheme, to carry through his greedy schemes no matter who died for their fulfillment.
She broke away from Bry. “No!” she cried. She was propelled by her fury to Towner. He shriveled from her. He was afraid.
She said, “You murdered him. You killed Thad.”
He stammered, “Let me tell you—”
She didn’t let him speak. “You came to me in Singapore only because you thought I might possibly have received the Imperial from Thad’s friends.” She pronounced sentence. “I’m going to kill you.” Her hand was steady on the bronze figurine.
Before she could raise it, her wrist was encircled. By steel. By Gavin. He took it from her. They had closed in on her. The three men, no, it was four now. Jones had understood, more than he appeared to understand.
She flung out her hands impassioned. “Aren’t you going to do anything? You can’t just walk off and leave him to—”
She saw Jones’ face, harsh, cold. Bry’s quiet, intense. Dekertian’s inscrutable. Gavin’s alive, knife-sharp. Four men, each with determination on justice, eventual justice. Bry said, “Let’s go.”
She was mouse quiet. “Yes. I’ll go.”
She didn’t turn back to Towner. As they passed through the arch, she heard Feather’s pretty, stupid voice coaxing, “Now that your business is over, Towner, let’s dash somewhere and have some fun. I know. We’ll go to the Waldorf too!”
The square lay quiet below her windows. Over the dark trees the scent of spring was garlanded. Jones’ man wasn’t on the bench tonight; there was no one in the park but lovers. Ordinary boys and girls who didn’t know the Arabian Nights adventure that had swirled through their meeting place.
She shouldn’t be kneeling here in the darkness, smelling the spring with a dull ache in her heart. She should be happy in the new world that was to unfold for her. Bry’s goodnight had promised the world she wanted, the quiet, happy, normal life. It had never been Feather for him; he’d cozened her to learn more of Towner.
He’d told Eliza at late supper. At Caterina’s sidewalk cafe on Sullivan street. In that long ago there had been a war to be fought before the catching of a murderer and a thief. Bry returned to base after Thad died but Gavin didn’t.
“He transferred to Intelligence. Counter-espionage in the East. He said all the crooks were spies during the war. He could keep his ear to the ground about the Teheran affair.”
Bry hadn’t heard from Gavin again until last year. Until El Bey’s men had approached Gavin to buy the Imperial for Towner.
“He had the Imperial; he took it from Saub’s body and skipped before anyone else got there. He hid it out until he found out who was after it. Then he started rumors moving in the right alleys. He wrote me when he knew for certain. He wanted me in on the finish.” Across the red checkerboard tablecloth, Bry’s face had darkened. “We loved Thad, Gavin and I. Like a kid brother. Particularly Gavin. He’d been a lone wolf since he was a kid. He’d never had affection. If you’d known Thad—” He’d broken off then. “You did,” he said quietly. “He was gentle and good. We’d nursed him—he’d cracked up badly. Brought him back to life.” It hurt him to talk about it. “We’d vowed whoever was responsible would pay.”
She’d said dully, “But you’ve let him go. Without paying.”
Bry’s fingers piled little crumbs in one red square. “It isn’t over, Eliza. There’s no proof he had anything to do with the theft. It’s like Dekertian said. Third and fourth hand reports from witnesses you could bribe for a penny. Towner didn’t kill Thad or Saub; he spent his own money to return the Imp.”
She said, “Pincek.”
“Pincek was Towner’s man. His job was to steal the Imp from you.” He didn’t look hopeful. “Jones thinks he’ll get Towner on that. I don’t. He’s too clever to be caught.” His fingers suddenly scattered the crumbs. “I can promise you one thing. It won’t be over with Gavin until the man responsible for Thad’s death pays in full.”
She went cold. Gavin wouldn’t go back to the penthouse. He couldn’t kill; there were laws.
Bry said, “Don’t worry. Gavin’s leaving in the morning. He isn’t a killer. Hester was definitely self-defense.”
Jones might find proof. Jones wouldn’t give up trying to prove it. Towner’s plans had been careful and devious. Let Brewer send for the Imperial, a commission for Towner Clay. Set his own tool in the office to keep it from reaching Brewer. Set another hireling on her to steal it, easier to steal from her than from an importer. Because she would never suspect. She had placed her implicit faith in Towner Clay. She had helped him steal before to satisfy his collector’s itch; she had witlessly believed he was retrieving treasure for rightful owners. She’d never been allowed to meet the owners. He’d put her into his aunt’s apartment because he knew every inch of it, knew how to get into it; he’d picked his own battleground. Only one thing he didn’t know, one thing he was too vain to know. That Gavin Keane and Bryan Brewer knew the identity of the thief of Teheran.
She was in the same apartment now. After dinner she and Bry had walked to the house through the midnight streets of spring. There were street lamps instead of a moon, ash cans instead of hibiscus, but it was better that way. Thad belonged to the romantic places, to a never-to-be-forgotten dream. You couldn’t live in a world of dreams. Bry wouldn’t hurt the memory; he would cherish it too.
He hadn’t wanted her to stay at the apartment tonight. He had been afraid for her, fearing Towner might come to harm her. She hadn’t feared. She knew Towner would not dare come. Because he would know if he came to her she would kill him.
Her head rested on her arms. She should be content. She shouldn’t have the ache that Gavin had gone, gone without goodbye. She would have liked to say goodbye. To tell him the bump on her head didn’t hurt anymore. It had been a blow struck for Thad. Gavin had believed she was Towner’s woman in full understanding of Towner’s plans. He had meant to keep her from reaching Towner until the business of the Imp was done. It couldn’t have been that he wanted her kept out of it. That he didn’t want her to be hurt.
She was dreaming. She couldn’t remember who the man was; she knew only that he had very blue eyes and that he was trying to tell her something. She opened her eyes, opened them wide. The blue-eyed man was in the doorway. And he was saying “Do you always sleep in the window? Better wake up, I haven’t got all night.”
“What are you doing here?” She came to her feet unsteadily.
He held up her doorkey. His mouth mocked her. “Catch.” He tossed it. “It’s four A.M. If you’re going to take me to the airport, you’d better get dressed. In a hurry.” He closed the door on her.
She didn’t waste precious moments. Even he was surprised at how quickly she was in the game room. He said, “You ought to wear blue always.”
She looked away. “I thought you’d gone.”
“Without apologizing?” He was mocking again.
“For what?”
“For that punch.”
She said gravely, “I understand. I thought you were … yo
u thought I was.” She rebuked, “You told me you didn’t like Dekertian.”
“I don’t.” His voice was even. “He let Thad die.”
She didn’t press it further. “Why didn’t you or Bry tell me what Towner was?” she demanded.
“You didn’t talk to me, sweetheart. I’d have told you. Bry didn’t have the heart, after you told him what Towner meant to you. He knew you’d catch on finally.”
She flushed. “You make me sound stupid. I was.”
He’d come out of his chair, come over to her. She rose trembling to meet him. He said, “You’re a lovely lady, Eliza.” His eyes were deep in hers. “You deserve a lot better than you’ve had.” Deliberately he turned away. “Bry will give you only the best.”
She didn’t say anything, she couldn’t.
His voice was light again. “Get your coat, sweetheart. Bry’s meeting us at the field.”
“It’s in the foyer closet.” Her voice matched his. “How did you ever get the Imp away from me?”
He grinned. “I waxed your floor. Clemence couldn’t get in while it was drying. Gave me time enough to search your closet.”
“Bright,” she said dryly. Nothing unusual, the usual spring cleaning. “I wonder why Towner didn’t let Jones arrest you.”
“He wanted me for the scapegoat. When the Imperial disappeared again. Jones believed every word Towner told him.” He said wryly, “He doesn’t now. He’s even forgiven us for locking him in the closet. I had to get the correspondence between Bry and me out of the office before Towner hooked it.”
“There was no correspondence.”
He grinned. “Thorough, weren’t you? It was disguised. But Towner might have uncovered it.”
“Will Jones take care of Towner?”
His face was hard. “Not much he can do. Actually there isn’t one thing to hold Towner on. He gave Dekertian the Imp. The chauffeur died in a bombing. Everyone he’s used on the deal is dead.” His silence intensified his warning. “Except you.”
She scorned, “I’m not afraid of him. He’s afraid of me.”
His smile was warm. “I think you’re right there.”
A name trembled on her tongue. Potts. Why did Gavin have Potts help him guard Dekertian and the Imp to the hotel? The name remained unspoken as they entered the foyer. She saw on the mirror table the square white box, neatly tied with white paper ribbon. She stood there, motionless.
Gavin’s voice came carelessly. “That’s something amusing I picked up tonight. At a candy store.” He untied the string, lifted the lid. In the tissue paper nest was a large chocolate Easter egg. His eyes taunted her. “Satisfied?”
She let out her breath. “Yes.”
He replaced the lid, retied the box. “A memento of my successful journey to New York.”
Bry was waiting at the airport. He stood with Eliza while Gavin went through customs. She knew why he was troubled. She said, “It’s a chocolate Easter egg. His memento of New York.”
Bry said, “I was afraid—”
“Yes.”
The box was under Gavin’s arm when they stood at the gate. He shook hands with Bry. “Take care of baby.”
He took Eliza’s hand. “Come see me some day. I’ll have a key for you.” He looked at her mouth. His hand was hard about hers. Then he released it. “Goodbye.”
He went through the gate without turning back. She watched his jaunty shoulders until they disappeared within the small door of the great shining plane. Bry’s touch was on her arm. “Might as well go.”
“Wait.” She was watching the next man approach the airliner, a portly man with a small handbag. He turned his head as he reached the steps. She had known who it was, who it must be. Pottsy.
She said to Bry, “Wait for the takeoff.”
They stood there in silence until the enormous glittering wings were lighter than air. She waved her hand; it might have been his white handkerchief waving at her.
She wasn’t surprised at what the headlines were screaming as she and Bry walked out of the Terminal.
“IRANIAN ENVOY LOSES TREASURE.”
She didn’t know how. But she knew now why Potts had been with Gavin last night. And she knew why they had acted. Towner would follow the lure of the Scarlet Imperial. Away from the civilized world. This time Gavin would take care of Towner.
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Copyright © 1946 by Dorothy B. Hughes
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Scarlet Imperial Page 17