The Fall Guy

by Joe Barry

  Once upright he found that he was feeling no pain. Beyond a dull throb now and then, the blow he had taken at the base of his skull left him with no after-effects. He took his shower and dressed. Leaving the apartment he headed for the elevator, then changed his mind and walked down one flight to his own apartment.

  The door was open and sounds of men at work came from within. He stuck his head in the door and almost lost it as a ladder came past.

  “Hey!” Rush said.

  “Oh, there you are,” said a voice from inside the room. “Come on in here.”

  “What’s on your mind, Bill?” Rush asked. “What’s on my mind, he asks. Open your eyes and look. What in the name of Kelly happened here?”

  “Oh, this?” Rush said.

  “Yes,” said the building superintendent, “this.”

  “Well, a guy thought maybe I had something hidden here. He wanted it, so he looked for it.”

  “He must have wanted it bad.”

  “He did,” Rush said. “When you get it fixed up, send me the bill. I’ll put it down as expenses on a case I’m working on.”

  “Okay, Rush. And, Rush, the next time you tell your friends that it’s in your lease that you can’t hide anything on the premises.”

  “Right. I’ll see you, Bill.”

  Rush left then and caught a cruising cab after walking a block from his apartment. It deposited him twenty minutes later in front of his office building. He entered the coffee shop on the ground floor, found his favorite table by the window, and opened the paper he found lying there. He learned from a column on the first page and a half-column on page five that the police knew nothing that they didn’t know the day before. He wished that he didn’t know so much more than they did. He disliked holding out on the legally constituted authorities but he didn’t see how he could tell them anything without violating his agreement, in spirit at least, with Germaine.

  Rush held the paper aside and looked at the menu the waitress put before him.

  “Fry me a couple of eggs straight up. Side of Americans, dark toast and coffee.” .

  “Make that two, except for the potatoes,” said a voice from the chair opposite him.

  “Morning, Hope,” Rush said. “When did you arrive?”

  “While you were reading the paper. You would make a very poor husband.”

  “I have no intention of making any kind of husband at all.”

  “Mr. Henry!”

  Rush ignored her. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Must there be something?”

  Rush looked at her. It wasn’t hard. “In my books, lady, you are a babe who never does anything unless she has a reason.”

  Hope smiled and the momentary hardness at the corners of her mouth relaxed. “That might be true, most of the time.”

  “And the rest of the time?”

  “I have my moments.”

  “Is this one of them?”

  “No,” Hope said, “no, it isn’t. I want something. Or rather, I want to know something.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Why are you double-crossing me?”

  Rush could only look at her.

  “I gave you a thousand dollars for protection and you went directly to my stepfather and told him about it.”

  “My dear—“ Rush started.

  “And while you are supposed to be protecting me I get knocked out and left on the floor in your room.”

  Rush cocked one eyebrow and looked at her. She didn’t blush.

  “Yes, who took off my clothes?”

  “I imagine the same person that hit you on the head.”

  “And why did he hit me?”

  “That I am pretty sure of. He wanted to search you thoroughly.”

  This time she blushed. But it didn’t halt her.

  “What was he hunting for?”

  She was bluffing and Rush knew it. He wondered why and in the same second called her bluff.

  “For a pair of very special emeralds, I think.”

  She called the bluff. Her eyes opened in an expert edition of a startled stare. Her mouth hung open just the right distance. It was good, too good.

  “What in the world would I be doing with a pair of emeralds?”

  Rush was saved an answer by the arrival of their breakfast. The waitress set it before them and departed. Rush opened his mouth to say that he had no idea what she would be doing with a pair of emeralds when another thought occurred to Hope. She beat him to the punch.

  “Who searched me?”

  “Otho Brin.”

  This time Rush struck home. Hope was honestly surprised and completely terrified.

  “Otho—is he here?”

  “Yes. Haven’t you seen Jago since yesterday?”

  “Jago, then he told you?”

  “Yes, my dear, he told me something at least. And that’s a very pretty act you do.”

  “Why did you let me go on if you knew I was lying?”

  “I was interested in how well you did it. I always like to know the full abilities of people I’m protect-mg.

  She waved that aside with a flip of her hand.

  “When did Brin get here?”

  “I don’t know when, but he was here two days ago.”

  Hope bit her underlip nervously.

  “Does Jago know that?”

  “I told him. Didn’t he tell you?”

  “I haven’t been to the hotel since yesterday. After I woke up and saw you knocked out on the floor I got frightened. I got another hotel room and hid in it all day. I called your office this morning and the girl told me you’d probably have breakfast in here about this time.”

  “Now you’ve found me, what do you want?”

  “I really want protection now, if Brin’s in town.”

  “Is he so dangerous?”

  “Dangerous?” Hope shivered. “He is the most deadly man I ever met. Oh, he’ll fool you. He’ll make you think he’s nothing but a kindly old man, but he’ll kill you while he’s patting you on the shoulder. He wants only one thing in the world—those emeralds. And he’ll kill anybody who keeps them from him.”

  “Not a nice guy,” said Rush.

  Hope looked thoughtful. “Did Jago tell you about the emeralds?” she asked.

  “No,” Rush said.

  “Where did you hear about them?”

  “I got it from Brin. I think he thought I already had them or knew where they were at least.”

  “Jago will be furious.”

  “That will be too bad.”

  “Don’t underestimate that man, either. He won’t kill you himself. He’ll have Wilmer do it, or hire somebody else, but you’ll be just as dead.”

  “I haven’t underestimated anybody yet, unless it was you.” Hope looked surprised. “What about the emeralds? Where did they come from? Who did they belong to? Where does Paul Germaine come into it? Who killed him?” Rush shot the questions at her fast, watching her closely. There was nothing to see; she closed a curtain behind her eyes and looked through him. When he had finished, she smiled.

  “You don’t know as much as I thought you did. You were bluffing. All you know is that there are some emeralds.”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  “Not quite.”

  “Tell me the rest of it.”

  “No, not now at least. There’s something else I have to find out before I can tell you anything more.”

  “When will you know?”

  “Maybe tonight. Where will you be?”

  Rush grinned. “If you want protection you’d better know that. I’ll be home early. I’m getting behind in my sleep.”

  “I’ll be there around midnight. Will you leave your door unlocked?”

  “They have given me a new room while they’re cleaning up the old place. I’ll leave word at the desk to let you come up. It’s 13-A.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Hope had finished her breakfast and arose to stand beside the table.

  “I’ll leave m
y check for you. You can put it down as expenses.” She turned on a spike heel and left the coffee shop.

  Rush watched her leave and as the door closed behind her he took the last sip of his coffee. The cup was on the table and he was about to rise when a hand fell on his shoulder.

  “Have another cup of coffee, Rush. I want to talk to you.” It was Sam Carnahan. “Nice filly you just let go.”

  “Yeah,” Rush said noncommittally. “What’s on your mind, Sam?”

  The waitress came and agreed to bring Rush another cup of coffee. She took Carnahan’s order for coffee and left. Carnahan watched her out of earshot.

  “You know what’s on my mind, Rush. It’s this damned Germaine thing. I can’t make heads or tails out of it. I get the feeling that there’s a hell of a lot going on under the surface that I can’t put my finger on.”

  Rush sat still. Their coffee came and Rush stirred in his sugar, still silent.

  “I think you know something, Rush. Damn it, somebody’s got to know something.”

  “Why don’t you go to his father?”

  “Go to his father? What the hell kind of a cop do you think I am? Of course I went to his old man.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Now, Rush, you know what he said.” Carnahan looked unhappy. “He said that you were handling everything for the family and he could tell me nothing that I couldn’t learn from you. And a fat chance I have of getting anything from you till you’re ready to pop.”

  “Oh, it’s not as bad as that, Sam. The fact is, I haven’t much to give you. You know just about as much as I do.”

  “In a pig’s—”

  “Now, Sam.” Rush grinned over his coffee cup. “Look, Sam, have I ever double-crossed you? You know damn good and well that you’ll get anything I get when the time’s right.”

  “Yeah, but when is that going to be?”

  “Don’t crowd me. I do know one thing that you don’t, but it won’t do you any good to know it. You’d upset everything if you started blasting now.” Carnahan looked at him for a long second.

  “Okay, Rush. I’ll play it your way for a while, but God help you if you cross me.” He sighed. “It isn’t so much not knowing anything that gets me. It’s not being able to figure out anything to do. If I could get my hands on something to work on, it wouldn’t be so bad. But, hell, all I can do is sit on my can and think and I got nothing to think about. There’s no angles that I can see.”

  Rush had a thought.

  “As a matter of fact, Sam, there is something you can do that is practically impossible for me. It’s police work, pure and simple.”

  “That’s me, pure and simple. What is it?”

  “Have you got anything on a pair of emeralds at headquarters?”

  “You mean hot emeralds?”

  Rush nodded.

  “I don’t know, Rush. That isn’t homicide, you know. I’ll ask around and see if anything’s come in on any emeralds. Any idea where from?”

  “You might try San Francisco. I really don’t have any idea. It’s just a hunch that keeps kicking around in my head. You might haul in some stoolies and find out if there’s anything going around about emeralds.”

  “Yeah, I’ll do that too. When do you want it?”

  “As fast as you can get it, Sam. It might be a real lead.”

  Carnahan looked as though he wanted to ask a lot of questions, but he remembered his agreement and decided against it.

  “I’ll get it right away, Rush.” He finished his coffee, then stood up to go. He looked down at Rush as though the questions bubbling around inside his head were about to break out. Rush looked back and grinned.

  “Oh, nuts!” Carnahan said and left.

  Rush took the elevator to his office and found that Gertrude had beaten him to work. She was at her desk busily reading a detective magazine. She looked up as he entered.

  “Ah, the poor man’s Philo Vance.” Rush gave her a modified Bronx cheer. “What has come over this office of late?” asked Gertrude. “You can’t walk into the place any more but what you stumble over a client. You’re going to have to take a partner to handle all the business.”

  “What gives now?” Rush asked.

  In answer Gertrude stuck a thumb over her. shoulder.

  “In there,” she said. “A gent craves your indulgence. He looks like dough.”

  “We don’t need any,” Rush said.

  Gertrude said an unprintable word.

  “Remind me to buy you some soap to wash out your mouth with,” Rush said, and walked into his office.

  Sitting in Rush’s chair, calmly going through the desk, was the client. He looked up as Rush entered and smiled cordially.

  “Good morning, Mr. Henry,” he said.

  “Good morning, Mr. Jago,” Rush said. “What can I do for you?”

  10

  “It isn’t,” Jago said, “so much what you can do for me, as what I can do for you.”

  Rush admitted the possibility of that being the case with a gesture. Jago continued.

  “I am in a position to make you a large sum of money.” He paused. “Money to which no taint is attached, and with no risk involved.”

  “That is the kind of money that interests me the most,” Rush said.

  Jago nodded, “Of course.”

  “But,” Rush said, “you are not going to just give me the money. There must be something I’m to do to earn it?”

  “Maybe yes, maybe no. It’s just possible, Mr. Henry, that you can earn that money by doing nothing.”

  Rush had that one figured out in advance. He decided to let Jago tell him.

  “You made a statement yesterday, Mr. Henry, that upset me greatly.”

  Rush raised his eyebrows in polite surprise. “Yes,” Jago continued. “It was in regard to that unfortunate death of the Germaine boy. You said, as I recall, that you intended to find the guilty party. You intimated that you thought you would find that person in the group which surrounds me.*’

  Rush let Jago do the talking.

  “Now, there are some facts that I’m pretty sure you will turn up in the course of your investigations that may lead you to believe even more strongly than you do now that that is the case. Those facts, Mr. Henry, will be misleading.”

  Rush’s look of disbelief didn’t commit him. The longer Jago talked the more he learned.

  “In the long run, Mr. Henry, you will learn that-it was impossible for Wilmer or me to have committed the murder. But, in the meantime, your investigations will prove both embarrassing and costly to me. I propose to save you the trouble and time you might spend in those investigations and pay you for not working.” Jago sat back in*Rush’s chair with an indulgent smile as though he had just offered candy to a child.

  “You propose, in words of one syllable, to pay me blackmail?”

  Jago sat forward, frowning, “That is an ugly word.

  It never occurred to me that what I expect to pay you would be considered blackmail. I’m asking nothing criminal. You have, quite by chance, come into possession of certain information which leads you to false conclusions. Your connection and standing with the police department—oh, I’ve investigated you—make your possession of that information very embarrassing to me. I’m engaged in an enterprise that cannot stand the harsh light of publicity. It is, I assure you, nothing criminal. I’ll admit that you would be justified in going to the police with what you know. That would spell defeat for my plans. I am quite willing to give you my word and, if possible, convince you of the misconception you hold and pay you at the same time. If that is blackmail, it will have to be blackmail.”

  It was a long speech and Jago sat back breathing heavily. It was the first time Rush had seen the man aroused out of his shell of complete composure.

  “Maybe you had better do your convincing first,” Rush said. “Before we talk about money maybe you’d better alibi yourself and your gunsel. My conscience is a tricky thing.”

  “Gladly,” Jago said.
“It is an alibi I hope never to have to produce for the authorities, and I’m going to make it purposely vague. But, believe me, it is the truth. At the time Germaine was killed I was occupied by a telephone conversation with a reputable business man of your city. I won’t produce him until it is necessary. I was phoning from my hotel room and Wilmer was with me. As a matter of fact, a bellhop came in with food Wilmer had ordered while I was on the phone. All this I can prove, Mr. Henry, but for a good reason, I prefer not to.”

  Rush sat deep in thought for a moment.

  “That’s the kind of alibi that’s easiest to frame, Jago.”

  “Of course. But it’s very hard to break down in court.”

  “True enough,” Rush said. He looked at Jago thoughtfully. “Before we make any kind of deal, let me ask you a few questions.”

  “Of course, my boy. Anything you like.”

  “What did you expect to find when you searched my office a moment ago?”

  Jago chuckled. “I thought you saw me at that. It should be easy enough for you to guess. You don’t trust me. I’d be worse than foolish to trust you too far. It is entirely possible, in spite of your denial, that Germaine left the plans I’m searching for, with you. I didn’t think you’d be foolish enough to leave them where they could be found. But I overlook no bets.”

  “I see,” Rush said. “Tell me a little more about those plans. You say the tall, dark man I met is the inventor. How does it happen that he doesn’t have the plans?”