The Fall Guy

by Joe Barry

  It didn’t take long. There weren’t many facts. Over his third double rye, Rush realized that he knew the murderer. There was no way in God’s world of proving it, but he knew. He lifted his glass to drain it and a hand slapped him on the back. He sputtered, lowered the glass to the table and looked up.

  “Hello, Sherlock,” said Leslie Germaine. Rush frowned at her. “This is Barton Kane,” she said as a tall, slender male approached in what Rush imagined was a sports ensemble. His open collar flowed over his coat lapel, and a loosely knotted scarf bulged at his neck. He was quite handsome. “He’s a radio announcer,” Leslie said.

  “An almost, unnecessary identification,” Rush thought.

  “Nice meeting you, Kane,” Rush said, and rose to go.

  “No, you don’t,” said Leslie. “Barton has a program in a few minutes and I want to talk to you. Just sit right back down.” She lowered herself into the booth opposite him. “Why don’t you run along to your program, Bart?” she said. “I have business with Mr. Henry.”

  Kane managed to look hurt and relieved in the same moment. It was a nice trick. “See you later, kiddie,” he said and vanished.

  “Buy me a drink, Sherlock,” said Leslie.

  “I’ll buy you one drink,” Rush said, “and watch you drink it. Then I’m leaving. I have things that have to be done.” He couldn’t think of anything he had to do right then, but he wanted an out.

  “That’s just fine,” said Leslie. “The first time I get you alone, and you have to leave right away.”

  Rush cocked an eyebrow at her. “The first time?” he asked.

  Leslie remembered the previous night. “Oh, that,” she said. “I was tight.”

  “Yes,” said Rush, “you certainly were.”

  Her drink came and she downed it in a gulp, handing it back to the waitress before she could leave the table. “More,” she said imperiously. The waitress looked at Rush and he nodded.

  “This is the load as far as I’m concerned,” he said to Leslie. “One more and I blow. I’ve seen you when you’ve had too much.”

  “That isn’t all you’ve seen,” said Leslie and giggled.

  Her drink came, saving Rush an answer. The second drink she sipped, and looked up to eye Rush contemplatively.

  “What is it you’ve got?” she asked. “You’re not handsome, you don’t even try.” She cocked her head to one side. “It must be you’ve got glamour.”

  Unaccustomed to the frankness of the very young, Rush scowled angrily. “Let’s forget about me. There are some things about you I want to know.”

  “Ask me questions,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to be grilled by a detective.” Rush wondered if this eighteen-year-old were laughing at him.

  “What kind of a deal have you got with Big Mick?” he asked abruptly.

  “Big Mick?” Her eyes were round with surprise. “Who’s that?”

  For a brief moment Rush was almost convinced. Then, “That’s good,” he said. “That’s very good. If I didn’t know better, I’d believe you.”

  “Believe me? I don’t understand.”

  “Okay, how about Markio? You don’t know him either I take it.”

  “No, I never heard of him.”

  Rush shook his head sadly. “I’ve talked to both of them. They both remember you. It isn’t any use lying.”

  Leslie smiled a secret little smile. “Yes, it is,” she said.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I get practice. If you hadn’t talked to them personally, you’d have believed me. I’m getting very good at it.”

  Rush decided to lay a few cards on the table.

  “I know quite a little about you. It’s been my business these last several days to find out things. Your father found out what you’ve been up to and it almost broke his heart. He put me on your trail, cleaning up after you. That I can do. I put the fear of God in Markio and Big Mick. You are a different problem. I’ve got no lever to use on you. I can’t threaten you.”

  “No,” said Leslie, “you can’t threaten me, because I’m not afraid of anything.”

  “How about your better nature? Do you realize what you’re doing to your father?”

  “That old goat,” snorted Leslie contemptuously. “He never had any fun in his life. All he ever did was make money. He doesn’t give a damn about me. All he’s worried about is the family name. That and his precious son, Paul.”

  Rush looked at her strangely. She didn’t seem to remember that Paul was no longer around to be worried about.

  Leslie interpreted the look. “Oh, I know he’s dead now. That’s his own fault. If he’d had the brains of an ant, he’d be in clover now.”

  Rush raised his eyebrows at her and she realized she was saying more than she intended. She covered a little.

  “He got in a little tight spot and he broke. He didn’t have any guts.”

  “Why do you suppose he got killed?” asked Rush.

  Leslie’s eyes widened again. “Why, I don’t know. I thought you did. That’s your job, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” said Rush, “that’s my job, and I know. I also know that you know.”

  “Do you?” asked Leslie. She finished her drink. “Now, let me ask some questions.”

  Rush held up his hand. “Wait,” he said. “You’re very smart for your age. You know a lot of things some girls never learn. But have you ever figured where you stand to end up? You’ll get tired of raising hell some time. Some day you’ll want a husband and you’ll play hell getting one you’d dare show in public.” Rush felt a little foolish. This was not his line. It obviously wasn’t Leslie’s either.

  “A husband,” she snorted. “I never want anything so permanent as a husband attached to me. I have other plans for myself.”

  “Such as?”

  Leslie looked at him with a calculating look in her eyes.

  “I’m going to leave this town. I’m going to New York to live. And when the war’s over I’m going to travel around the world. I’m going to be a big shot, bigger than any woman ever was before.”

  “That’s good,” said Rush. “What are you going to use for money? Your father isn’t going to finance anything like that.”

  “Him! I don’t need his money. I’ll make my own. I’ve got enough to start on, or I can find it.”

  Rush stood up, removed himself from the booth and looked down at her.

  “That’s what you think,” he said. “Those emeralds are the hottest things in town. You won’t find a buyer who’ll touch them. If you’re smart, you’ll give them to me and forget the whole thing. The only thing you’ll get out of a deal with Big Mick is grief. You may be smarter than he is, but he’s stronger, and you have no way to hold him in line.”

  Leslie grinned lewdly at him. She looked down at herself. “Haven’t I?” she asked. She looked back at Rush. “Of course, if you’ve got a better deal in mind, I’m open to suggestions. We could go a long way together.”

  For once Rush was truly astonished. Then suddenly he was very angry.

  “No,” he said, “you’d better stick to Big Mick. He’s more your type. But don’t count on anything. I may decide to stick him in the can where he belongs. I ‘may decide to have you tied up for a while, too. While I’m thinking it over, you do some thinking too. I don’t need those green rocks to tie up this case but they’ll help. You know how to get in touch with me.

  Rush turned on his heel. At the cash register he tossed a bill on the counter and stalked out of the bar.

  He was still seething when he reached his office door. There was no light in the office and he realized it was almost six o’clock. Gertrude had been gone for over an hour. He pulled out his key ring and reached for the door knob. The door swung open at his touch. He swore briefly under his breath and stepped back into the hall flattening against the wall. Then turning to face the wall he reached an arm around the door feeling for the light switch just inside. He found it and switched on a flood of light from the ceiling f
ixture. Then, from a foot away, he looked into the room from all angles. He could see nothing. The door to the inner office was shut. Cautiously he stepped into the office. It was empty. It had had a recent and rather vicious visitor, however. Gertrude’s carefully kept files were spread rampant over the floor. The file cases themselves were upside down and the desk had been denuded of its drawers. Rush stood in the middle of the room and cursed steadily. This was too much. First his apartment, now his office. Someone still thought he had the stones. That could only mean one person. Brin was the only one left who thought he had them. Jago seemed too certain of being able to produce them to think Rush had them. Big Mick knew where they were, or at least who had them. It had to be Brin. Rush cursed the thin one. Their next meeting would not be so peaceful, he promised himself. He stepped to the inner door and held his ear to it for a moment. Complete silence greeted him from the other side. Cautiously he eased it open and stepped into his own office. There the same confusion greeted him. The room had been completely ransacked. Rush bit his lower lip and took two steps to the desk. He stood there a moment surveying the damage, wondering when he would catch up with Brin. That one had a long bill to pay. He reached around the desk into the open top drawer. The searcher had not disturbed the flat bottle he customarily kept there. He unscrewed the cap and walked around the desk to sit down. That, he found, was impossible.

  He took a long swallow from the bottle and reached for the phone. He dialed a number and waited.

  “Sam Carnahan, please,” he said.

  Moments later Sam’s voice answered in his ear.

  “Carnahan speaking,” he said.

  “Rush, Sam. You remember the tall, dark number I described for you? The guy who followed me away from the alley where you picked up young Germaine?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You can pick him up now.”

  “Fine, where is he?”

  “In my office. And Sam, you’d better bring the meat wagon. Somebody stuck a knife in him.”

  Carnahan was shouting, “Don’t move a thing, we’ll be right up,” as Rush lowered the phone gently to the cradle. Somebody else, he reflected, had collected his bill.

  Carnahan descended in force. Fifteen minutes after Rush’s call, the office was swarming with fingerprint experts, photographers, uniformed cops and white-coated interns waiting for the M.E.’s okay to move the body.

  The medical examiner stood up from the body which now stretched on the floor behind Rush’s desk.

  “Okay, boys, he’s yours.” He picked his way through the crowd to Rush and Carnahan as the interns loaded Brin’s earthly remains on a stretcher. “He’s dead all right,” he said. It was a standing joke.

  “Okay,” said Carnahan. “I’ll tell the papers. Now, what killed him?”

  The M.E. unfolded the white doth he carried in his hand and exposed a long-bladed knife. “This,” he said.

  “Ever see it before, Rush?” Sam asked.

  “Every day except Sunday. It’s my letter opener.”

  “Any prints?” asked Carnahan.

  “The boys said no. They’re taking it to the lab to check on any old latents.”

  “Mine’ll be there,” said Rush. “I get a lot of mail.”

  “Who was the guy, Rush?”

  “Name’s Brin. He’s from Frisco.”

  “Is he mixed up in this deal?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How?”

  “I think he saw the murderer leave the alley after Germaine was killed.”

  “Then the murderer probably knocked him off to keep him quiet.”

  “That’s my guess,” said Rush.

  Sam surveyed the office. “Who gave the joint such a rough casing?”

  “Brin,” answered Rush.

  “Why not the murderer?”

  “The murderer knew there was nothing here to look for.”

  “You sound like you know the murderer.”

  Rush nodded absently. He was thinking of something else.

  “Then for Pete’s sake, give. Let’s pick him up. This kind of thing can’t go on forever. There’s only so much room in the morgue.”

  Rush shook his head.

  “No, Sam. Not yet. If you picked the killer up now you’d never make it stick. I’ve got no proof.”

  “Well, tell us. We’ll frame a case.”

  “No, Sam. Give me another twenty-four hours. I’ll have this thing cleaned up then.”

  A thought caught up with Carnahan.

  “Where were you when Brin was knocked off?” Rush looked at Carnahan in disgust.

  “When was he killed?” he asked.

  “The M.E. says shortly after five o’clock.”

  “Okay, I was in a bar called the Blue Eagle just down the street. Leslie Germaine was with me. Call them up. They’ll remember. We sat in a back booth. I didn’t leave there till almost six.”

  “Okay, Rush, I believe you. Don’t get sore. We have to check all those things.”

  “Sure, you believe me. And in five minutes you’ll have a man at the Blue Eagle Bar checking my story.”

  “Okay, calm down.”

  “Sure, I’ll calm down.” He walked past Carnahan to the door. “Where’ll you be if I want you to pick up the pieces?” he asked.

  “Homicide can always find me.”

  “Okay, just don’t get too far away. When I put a finger on the killer, I’m through. It’s your job then and I don’t want to have to hunt for you.”

  Rush turned then and left his office. It wasn’t until he was in the elevator going down that he began to smile. He knew that Carnahan was only doing his job. But he had to get the cop out of his hair for the time being. He needed rest, sleep, and a few hours. He proposed to get them.

  18

  With a steak, and several of Barney’s double ryes under his belt, Rush headed for home. In the living room of the apartment he threw off his coat and lit a cigarette before he noticed the crack of light under the bedroom door. He strode over and opened the door. Propped up in bed, reading a magazine, was Hope O’Hara. A small portion of the visible part of Hope was covered with a diaphanous negligee that gave only elementary protection from Rush’s eyes.

  “Damn,” he said. “I’ve got to sleep on the sofa again!”

  “Do you?” asked Hope. She patted a place on the bed beside her. “Sit down,” she said.

  Rush walked slowly to the side of the bed and sat down. Hope shoved her magazine aside and took one of Rush’s hands.

  “We’re being a little silly about the whole thing, aren’t we?”

  “We are?” asked Rush.

  “Yes. We are full-grown. This is no way for adults to act.”

  “It isn’t?” asked Rush.

  “You’re being difficult.”

  “Yes,” said Rush. “You have to hit me on the head with a ball bat. I don’t catch on very easily.”

  “All right, lean over.” Hope pulled Rush toward her and lifted her lips with unmistakable purpose. Rush sighed deeply and followed through. It was a very expert kiss. Hope put a lot of herself into her work. Rush enjoyed it thoroughly. Quite a few minutes later he leaned back. Hope looked up at him from sleepy eyes. Her negligee fell in charming disarrangement. She noticed Rush’s eyes and smiled.

  “You see what I mean,” she said.

  Rush nodded, his eyes on hers.

  “I see what you mean,” he said. “Pardon me for coining a cliché but isn’t this a little sudden?”

  Hope looked surprised. “Sudden?” she asked. “No, I think it is about three days late.”

  “You’re a forward wench. I thought you were paying me for protection.”

  “I was, I am. That’s no reason we have to stand a mile apart.”

  Rush grinned. “One more kiss like that and you’ll need protection from me.”

  “I’ll never need protection from you,” Hope said. “I wouldn’t know what to do with it.” She took’ his hand again. “Rush, we’re doing a lot of beating around a lot
of bushes. Why can’t we get together?”

  “How much closer can we get?” Rush purposely misunderstood her. He wanted her to talk.

  “Don’t play dumb, Rush. You know what I mean. There’s a couple hundred thousand dollars floating around Chicago. They don’t belong to anybody. We could have them as well as anyone. We can get them easier than anyone else. That’s enough money to take care of us for a long time.” Her eyes watched Rush closely. “We get along together. I like you.” She looked down at her obvious charms. “You could get quite fond of me.”

  “Yes,” said Rush, “that should be easy. You make the whole thing sound very attractive.” He wondered how far this would go. He found out almost immediately.

  “I think I’m a little in love with you now,” Hope said. A bell rang somewhere deep inside Rush. It was a little off key. His mind came suddenly awake, racing. A sudden suspicion flashed into being. He checked.

  “Okay, Hope. Maybe we can make a deal. I have a call to make, then I’ll be back.” He stood up. “Wait for me, I’ll be back in an hour.”

  Hope was out of bed in an instant coming toward him. Silhouetted in the light from the bed lamp she made an appealing figure. The negligee fluttered open as she crossed the space that separated them. Her arms went around him.

  “Do you have to go now?” she asked in a low voice. She pressed close against him. “I don’t want you to leave now.”

  She overdid it.

  “Yes,” said Rush, “I have to go now.” He picked her up bodily and strode to the closet. “And I want to be sure you’re here when I come back.”

  She recognized his purpose and struggled in his arms. Her unshod feet kicked at him, but to no avail. He shoved her in the closet, slammed the door and locked it.

  “I’ll be back in an hour, dear,” he called, and the emphasis on the dear was vicious. Rush didn’t like to be played for a sucker. He wondered how Jago had underestimated him so far as to believe a woman in bed would tie him up for a night. They tried too hard. Without the pitch from Hope he would have been in bed now, fast asleep.