The Fall Guy

by Joe Barry

  “That’s not true. He’s throwing me to the wolves.” She turned to Rush. “You don’t believe him.” Rush just stared at her.

  “Jago—you know Wilmer was with you that afternoon. Every word is a lie. You’re framing me.”

  “Possibly, possibly, Hope. But you were ready to double-cross me. This way I can solve all my problems. I give Mr. Henry his killer and he gives me the emeralds. It’s the only way out.” He spread his hands, palms up, then brought them together in a brief washing motion.

  Hope sprang from her chair and Rush saw that there was a gun in her hand. “You can’t get away with this! I’m leaving. Anybody who tries to stop me gets it.” Her voice was hoarse and her features had hardened into a coarseness that disfigured them entirely. “Sure I killed those dopes. I’d do it again. Now stand back. I’m going out the door.”

  She took a step toward the door and Rush moved around the desk toward her. She swung the gun to point at Rush and her finger tightened on the trigger. Leslie screamed and dove for the gun which exploded twice. Rush stepped in and lashed out with his fists at Hope’s chin. She crumpled and fell across Leslie. A violent pounding set up on the outer door. Rush looked at the tangled figures on the floor at his feet, then slowly stepped over them and went into the outer office to unlock the door. Sam Carnahan stormed into the office, gun in hand, followed by three uniformed policemen.

  “Are we too late, Rush? Is anybody hurt?”

  “Yes, Sam,” said Rush slowly, “you’re too late.”

  He led the way back into the inner office. On the floor Hope was stirring faintly. She rolled to one side and sat up. Rush slipped to one knee and tenderly lifted Leslie into his arms and carried her to the divan. His tenderness was wasted. Blood from two bullet holes oozed through her dress just above the heart. When he felt her pulse it was gone.

  “Just a little late, Sam,” he said.

  21

  For the second time in two days the police had taken over Rush’s office. They had gone now, leaving Rush alone with Sam Carnahan and Paul Germaine, Sr. The older man was astonishingly erect and in excellent control of himself. He stood now at the edge of. Rush’s desk.

  “Henry, I don’t want you to feel that what has happened was in any degree your responsibility. You were called in after things had gone too far for any remedy. From what I have learned today, it is better that everything ended as it did. You will render me a bill in full for your services.”

  Rush looked up from the desk top.

  “There’ll be no bill, Mr. Germaine.”

  Germaine was silent for a moment. Then he sat at a chair beside the desk and took a checkbook from his pocket. He was silent, tracing figures on paper. When he had finished he tore the check from the book with a little ripping sound and folded it, tossing it across the desk to Rush.

  “I am deeply indebted to you, Henry. I hesitate to think what might have happened had you not been with us. Believe me, Henry, I am old enough now to realize that death is not the worst thing in store for us.”

  With that the old man turned on his heel and with stiff back and erect shoulders walked out of the office. Rush unfolded the check and whistled low. It was for ten thousand dollars. Carnahan came around the desk to look over his shoulder.

  “Good Lord,” he whispered almost under his breath. “Tomorrow I resign and start an agency. I’m wasting my time.”

  “You’re welcome to this one, Sam. This is one of the times when I wish I were selling shoes for a living.” A thought occurred to him. “You’ll never know how glad I was to see you. I would have had my hands full with Jago and Wilmer. The punk ‘was ready to gun me any second.”

  “They should be good for a nice stretch apiece on any one of a dozen charges. The girl’ll probably get life. She’s too damn pretty for a jury to hang.”

  “How’d you know we were here?”

  “I didn’t. I got word on the fire and started looking for you. I wanted you to go out with me. You were missing but Barney said your girl Gertrude had left word there for Merwin to pick you up at Germaine’s. Then the flash came in that the servants were found tied up and that they said a gang had taken over the house. I figured you were in it. On an off chance I came by the office and your light was on. We just broke in the door downstairs when Big Mick came out with his boys. We killed a little time rounding them up and then came on upstairs. My hand was on the doorknob when the gun went off.”

  He stood up then.

  “I’ll have to blow, Rush. I’ve got to clean up at headquarters and put those two through a little question bee. I think I can find a ‘Wanted’ paper on that Wilmer. There’s something distinctly familiar about him.”

  He shook Rush’s hand and left the office. Rush sat silently for a while then reached for the phone and dialed a number. A sleepy voice answered.

  “Hello, Pappy. This is Rush. I’ve got a story for you.”

  “Can’t it wait?” The voice was still sleepy.

  “No, you’ll want it in the first edition in the morning. Another Germaine just got it.”

  “Shoot.” The voice was wide awake now. Economically, with no wasted words, Rush told the whole story. When he had finished there was a silence at the other end of the wire.

  “Tough luck,” said Pappy Daley. “How did the old man take it?”

  “Standing up. He’s a tough old gent.”

  “That he is.” Pappy was silent for a moment. “Will you be in tomorrow? I’d like the rest of the story— for myself, I mean. We won’t print it.”

  “Yeah. I’ll drop in.”

  “Good night, Rush, and—thanks.”

  “It’s okay. Good night, Pappy.”

  Rush hung up and leaned back in his chair, his eyes shut. He sat in that position for almost five minutes, then he let the chair fall forward and reached for his hip pocket, bringing out his handkerchief. He placed it in the center of his desk blotter and slowly unfolded it. As the last fold opened the light from his desk lamp fell on two oval green stones. The light seemed to sink into their depths and reflect out again with added strength. A green glow suffused his handkerchief and the gems seemed to come alive. These were the eyes of the idol of Kol Napur. They had come over long distances, by land, and sea, and air, and they had brought with them a cargo of death.

  Watching them Rush had the feeling that the cargo was never spent, that ever renewing in their depths was a waiting death. He wanted none of them. They had burned in his pocket since he had taken them from Leslie’s glass of green creme de menthe. Without touching the stones he wrapped his handkerchief back around them and stuffed them carelessly in the desk. Tomorrow Gertrude could wrap them and send them to the colonel. He wanted nothing more to do with them.

  He reached over and turned out his desk lamp and quietly made his way out of the dark office.

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