Gilda stiffened.
“Why did you tell him that?”
“Yarde saw Fay Carson the night before last. They quarrelled. I heard him tell her he would cut her throat.”
“You told Adams that?”
“Yes. I didn’t want Johnny to get into trouble. I’m an old friend of his. I’m sure he wouldn’t hurt Fay. I like to look after my friends.”
She stepped back, lowering the gun.
“Is that all?”
“Isn’t it enough? If it hadn’t been for me, the Lieutenant would still be thinking Johnny did it. I saved Johnny.”
“Do you imagine that was worth five hundred dollars?”
Sweeting licked his lips.
“That depends on you,” he said cautiously. “Johnny’s your brother. I saved his life.”
She looked at him indisgust.
“Are they still looking for him?”
“I don’t know. I do know Adams is looking for Yarde. He has gone to the Washington Hotel. He thinks he’ll find him there.”
To his relief she moved away from him.
“I thought you might be interested to know that Yarde is in town again,” he ventured. “Or perhaps you know already?”
She looked at him, her eyes dark and mysterious.
“I didn’t know and I’m not interested.” She opened a drawer in the desk, took out a packet of bills, from which she took four five-dollar bills. “Here take them! That’s all your information is worth to me. Now, get out!”
Sweeting got unsteadily to his feet and took the money with a shaking hand.
“You couldn’t spare a little more?” he whined. “I appreciate your kindness, but I am entirely without funds.”
“Get out!” she repeated.
As he moved to the front door with Leo slinking at his heels, the doorbell rang sharply.
Sweeting stopped in his tracks and looked swiftly at Gilda. She stared beyond him at the door.
“Come with me!” she said sharply, and again the gun came up, threatening him. “Quickly!”
Terrified the gun might go off accidentally, Sweeting snatched up Leo and dived through the door she had opened and into the passage beyond.
“That takes you down to the street,” she said pointing to another door at the far end of the passage. “Get out and stay away from me!”
Sweeting scuttled down the passage, opened the door as the front-door bell rang again. He glanced back over his shoulder. He wasn’t too frightened to wonder who her late visitor could be. She waved impatiently at him.
As he opened the door he looked at the lock and saw it was the type he had handled before. He stepped into the passage that led to the back stairs and shut the door sharply behind him.
He waited a moment or so, his ear against the door, then hearing the passage door close, he felt quickly in his trousers pocket for a pick-lock, and inserted it into the keyhole. It took him only a few seconds to turn the lock, and opening the door a few inches, he cautiously peered into the passage.
He looked back and signed to Leo to wait for him. Leaving the dog outside, Sweeting closed the door and went silently down the passage. He paused outside the door that led into the sitting-room and placed his ear against the panel.
III
As O’Brien walked into the big sitting-room he thought Gilda was tense and even a little frightened. He looked sharply at her.
“What’s the matter, kid? Worried?”
“Of course I am,” Gilda said, a little impatiently. She sat down on the couch. “Johnny’s disappeared. Have you any news?”
“Yes; that’s why I came over. He was waiting for me at the house when I got back.”
Gilda stared at him.
“At your place?”
“Yes. I was surprised to find him there.” O’Brien sat beside her. “He made terms.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was quite frank. He told me he realized he was a nuisance. He is aware, too, that he could be suspected of Fay’s murder. So he made me a proposition.”
Gilda continued to tare at him.
“What proposition?”
O’Brien laughed.
“Do I have to tell you? You know Johnny. His main interest is money. He suggested I should finance him and he’d go on a trip around Europe.”
“Did you?”
“Of course. It was cheap at the price.”
“Oh, Sean you shouldn’t have. I can’t have him taking money from you.”
“It’s done now. It’s the best thing that could happen. Now we’re both rid of him.”
“You don’t mean he’s gone already?”
“Yes. I’ve just come from the airport,” O’Brien lied glibly. “There was a hell of a scramble to get him on the plane.”
“He went without saying good-bye to me?” Gilda said, looking searchingly at O’Brien.
“There wasn’t time, but he scribbled a note.” O’Brien took an envelope from his billfold and gave it to her. “He tried to call you, but every telephone booth was engaged. You know what it’s like at an airport. So he wrote instead.”
She ripped open the envelope, read the note and then laid it down.
“Was it necessary for him to leave so quickly, Sean?”
“I think so,” he returned quietly. “He wanted to go, and I didn’t want him snarled up with the police.”
“I wish I had seen him off.”
“There just wasn’t time. Get him out of your mind, Gilda. I know you’re fond of him, but you’ve got to forget him now.
He won’t be back for some time. Anyway, until after we’re married; and talking about marriage, let’s go ahead and make it quick now. How about the end of the week?”
Her face brightened.
“Yes. Whenever you like, Sean.”
He got up.
“Fine. Leave it to me. I’ll get things fixed. Now go to bed and don’t worry any more. It’s getting late. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know what I’ve fixed.”
Sweeting listened to all this with growing interest. So Johnny had skipped to France. And she was planning to get married. Who was this guy she called Sean? Could it be Sean O’Brien? He wished he had the nerve to open the door a crack so he could get a glimpse of Gilda’s visitor, but, remembering Gilda’s gun, he decided against the risk.
He heard them talking on the landing; then, a few moments later, the front door shut.
He heard Gilda cross the sitting-room, turn off the lights and go into her
bedroom. The door shut.
Sweeting relaxed.
He had better go. At least he now had twenty dollars. That would meet his rent, but it wouldn’t leave him anything in hand. He suddenly realized how hungry he was. He hadn’t had anything to eat all day, and Leo must be starving too.
No harm in seeing what she had in her ice-box, he thought. A chicken or a ham would be acceptable.
Softly he tiptoed across the passage to the kitchen door, gently turned the handle, found the light switch and turned it on.
Facing him was a massive refrigerator, and his eyes lit up with eager anticipation. He paused to listen, but heard nothing. Sneaking across the polished floor he took hold of the refrigerator handle, gently lifted it and pulled.
The door of the refrigerator swung back.
A thin, frightened scream came out of his mouth before he could stop it, and he jumped back, shuddering.
Sitting, hunched up on the floor of the refrigerator, his face a bloody mask, his lips drawn off his teeth in a snarl of death, was Maurice Yarde.
CHAPTER IX
I
The motorboat swept inshore, its prow clear of the water. A long white wash from the churning screws marked its passage from the Willow Point. Tux sat in the bucket seat while Solly had charge of the wheel. For the first time in years, Tux was scared. He had fallen down on an order, and he knew what was ahead of him. O’Brien would pass the word around. Tux would be shut out, and to be shut out of O’Brien’s worl
d meant going back to small-time heists, not having police protection and scratching for a living. It wouldn’t be long before he would get himself involved in a gun battle with a cop. It wouldn’t be long, either, before he was on a slab in the police mortuary.
Tux ran his tongue along his dry lips at the thought. There was still a chance to rectify his mistake. If he could find Johnny, wipe him out and get rid of his body there would be no need for O’Brien ever to know Johnny had escaped from the cruiser.
But where was he to find Johnny? Would Johnny go to his sister’s apartment or would he leave town? The chances were he’d leave town. Johnny was no fool. He would know Tux wouldn’t rest until he found him.
The lighted waterfront was now well in view, and Tux suddenly leaned forward. “What’s going on over there?” he shouted above the noise of the engine.
Sooly turned his great pear-shaped head and stared.
“Looks like cops,” he said. “That’s a cop car.”
“Better take her to Sam’s jetty,” Tux said. “We don’t want to get snarled up with those boys.”
Solly altered course, and in a few minutes he brought the motorboat alongside the jetty.
Both men scrambled up the ladder, and then hurried down the jetty to
the waterfront.
Police whistles were blowing and they could hear the sound of distant sirens.
“This ain’t healthy,” Tux said. “Come on; let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Think they’re after Johnny?” Solly asked, looking along the waterfront at the distant police car and the four cops who were standing in a group, their backs turned to them.
“How do I know?” Tux snarled. “Goddamn it! He could get away in this shindig.” He had a sudden idea. “Maybe Seth knows what it’s all about.”
He set off down an alley, followed by Solly.
Tux knew all the short cuts and the back alleys of the waterfront as well as he knew the geography of his cruiser. But he was surprised to find a number of the alleys were already guarded by cops.
It was only the darkness and his knowledge that prevented them from being seen. By climbing over walls and passing through back yards, they managed to reach the rear entrance of the Washington Hotel.
“Stick around,” Tux said to Solly and, leaving him to wait in the basement passage, he went on up the stairs to the main hall.
Cutler had returned to the reception desk. He was smoking and staring out of the window that overlooked the waterfront.
He started when he saw Tux.
“What the hell’s going on?” Tux demanded.
“You’d better get out of here,” Cutler said. “Right now, it’s hotter than a red-hot stove.”
“What’s going on?” Tux snarled.
“Johnny Dorman’s just shot a cop.”
Tux recoiled.
“What?” His voice shot up.
“Yeah. I saw him do it.”
“Did he kill him?”
“Can you imagine Johnny making a good job of anything?” Cutler sneered. “Naw, the cop’s okay, unless, of course, he dies of fright.”
“How do you know it was Johnny?”
“I saw the lug. Adams was here after Yarde. We were up on the top platform of the escape when I spotted Johnny with another guy down on the waterfront. A cop spotted this other guy. Johnny threw an iron on him and shot him.”
“Have they got him?” Tux asked anxiously.
“Not yet, but they will. You know what Adams is like. He pulled a gun on Johnny and knicked him. I jogged his arm or he would have had him with his second.”
“I want Johnny,” Tux said. “Where did he go?”
Cutler grinned.
“You ain’t the only one. The place is swarming with cops. I didn’t know they had so many.”
“Where did he go?” Tux snarled.
“He’s holed up with Rose Little.”
“Who’s the hell’s she?”
“Oh, just a twist. She works in the amusement arcade next door during the day and flashes a leg along the waterfront at night. You remember her. Her brother’s Ted Little, the guy who knocked off a couple of cops last year.”
“How do you know he’s with her?”
“I saw her take them in. If Adams hadn’t been in such a hurry to get down the stairs, he would have seen them too.”
“Can I get in there?”
Cutler shook his head.
“Not a hope. The whole district’s sewn up tight by now.”
“I’ll be right back,” Tux said grimly, and ran across the hall to the stairs. He whistled for Solly, who came up quickly and silently. “I know where he is,” Tux said. “Now we’ve got to get at him.”
Solly’s great black eyes blinked and he nodded. Together they returned to the desk.
“We’ll go up and take a look,” Tux said to Cutler. “Come on. Show us.”
Cutler shrugged.
“Suit yourself. It won’t get you anywhere. The cops have really got this organized.”
The three entered the elevator which took them slowly and creakingly to the top floor.
“About time you got a new elevator,” Tux said as they all stepped out, “That thing doesn’t feel safe.”
“It isn’t,” Cutler said cheerfully, “but I’d rather the than walk up all those damn stairs twice in a night.”
He turned off the passage light, then opened the door that led on to the outside escape.
“Watch yourself. These cops may be trigger happy.”
Tux went down on hands and knees and crawled out on to the platform. He flattened out and Cutler, also crawling, came and lay by his side.
“That’s the joint; down there,” he said, pointing to a dark building across the alley and to their right.
“Okay,” Tux said. “You take care of the desk. Me and Solly can handle this.”
Cutler retreated and Solly crawled up to take his place.
“That’s it,” Tux said, keeping his voice down. He pointed. “We’ve got to get in there somehow.”
They lay looking down into the dark alley. Every now and then they saw a movement as a cop walked slowly along the alley, turn and retrace his steps, passing the door of the building they were watching.
“Maybe I could get down there and knock that lug on the head,” Solly said hopefully. “Then you could get in.”
“No.” Tux said. “That’s not the way to play it. If we are going to get in, we’ll get in by the roof.”
He studied the lay-out of the district as far as he could see it.
“We’ll have to get to the other side of the alley first,” he said finally. “We’ll have to go down the way we came up, cut around the back and get to Dave’s place. We can use his roof. It’ll take time, but it’ll be safe.”
Solly edged backwards. He was essentially a man of action. Show him what to do and he did it.
Tux followed him, and together they went down the stairs, two at a time.
II
Johnny opened his eyes, blinked and lifted his head. He looked across the dimly lighted room as Ken got quickly to his feet.
“I guess I threw an ing-bing,” Johnny said, and half-sat up, grimacing. “Hell! My arm hurts. How long have we been here?”
“Twenty minutes,” Ken said, coming over.
“Where’s the girl?”
“She’s downstairs getting some milk.”
Johnny lay back with a little grunt of pain.
“I feel as weak as a rat. What’s happening outside?”
“I don’t know. From the sounds going on, they’re surrounding the place.”
“I don’t think I’m going to get far. Think we’re safe here?”
“I guess not. They may search each house. They must know we’re hidden in one of the buildings.”
“Yes.” Johnny shut his eyes. “Think you can get away on your own?”
“Not yet anyway.”
“Put the lamp out and take a look out of the window.”
Ken turned down the wick, blew out the flickering flame and groped his way across the room to the heavily curtained window.
“Be careful,” Johnny muttered.
Cautiously Ken lifted the edge of the curtain and peered out into the dark night. At first he could see nothing, then he spotted two shadowy figures almost under the window. He hurriedly lowered the curtain and stepped back.
“Two of them are right outside.”
He heard the door open.
“What’s happened to the light?” Rose asked out of the darkness.
“I’ll light it again,” Ken said, struck a match and lit the lamp. “I was looking out of the window. The police are right outside.”
She noticed Johnny was staring at her.
“Well, how do you feel ?” she asked, going over to him.
“Lousy,” Johnny said, and forced a grin. “Thanks for fixing my arm. I guess I must have bled a lot.”
“What do you expect?” she turned to Ken. “If you want to skip, handsome, you can get away over the roof. I’ll look after this guy.”
Ken didn’t hesitate. If he could get clear and telephone Adams and tell him where Johnny was holed up, he would solve a problem that had been nagging at him ever since he and Johnny had left Willow Point.
He looked over at Johnny.
“What do you say?”
“Sure,” Johnny said. “You skip.”
“What about you?”
“There’s something I want you to do for me,” Johnny said. “Come here.”
Ken went over to him.
“I don’t know if you have anywhere to go,” Johnny went on. “Every road will be watched, and you may have to hole up somewhere. Go to my sister. Her place is 45 Maddox Court.
She’ll let you stay with her until the heat cools off. Tell her what’s happened to me. Tell her O’Brien tricked me into writing her a letter so she should think I was going to Paris. Tell her about the barrel. I want her to know the kind of guy she’s marrying. Will you do that for me?”
Ken hesitated.
“You’ll do yourself some good,” Johnny urged. “She’ll give you money. She’ll get you out of town.”
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