Jim Hanvey, Detective

by Octavus Roy Cohen

  “You think they’ll do it at home?”

  “Surest thing you know. A guy as keen as Lathrop ain’t riskin’ a deal like that in his office; he wouldn’t even let Teddy come there if he knew what he was comin’ for. Yeh, Sis, I reckon they’ll put it through at home. So all you got to do is watch an’ keep me posted.”

  “And what will you do?”

  “My durndest—that’s all I can promise.”

  “That’s more than enough, Jim—a heap more than enough.”

  Jim flushed slightly—“Don’t you go countin’ on me too strong. You can remember at least one case where I fell down something awful an’ there ain’t no certainty I won’t flop this one.”

  Mary had the grace to blush. “I’m sorry about that, Jim.”

  “Ah gwan! I ain’t. It was a pleasure to have you put it over me. Say, listen—some day I want the lowdown on that, Mary.”

  The girl departed and then for three days he heard nothing from her. On the fourth day she telephoned him to meet her in Central Park.

  “Teddy was there again last night.”

  “Sure enough?”

  “Yes—for three hours. And this morning I heard Mr. Lathrop breaking a dinner engagement he had for tonight.”

  “So you sort of reckon maybe tonight’s the night?”

  “Yes.…I’m pretty sure it’s an attempt to sell Lathrop the Rawlings’ pearls. I did a bit of listening last night and I heard something of what they were saying—about having the cash there.…I guess poor Teddy is glad to get them off his hands at any price.”

  “Yeh—I reckon he is. They ain’t nothin’ now but a liability. Hmm! Reckon I better stick around this evenin’.”

  They put their heads together then in an earnest discussion of details. And when Jim rose heavily to his feet a half hour later and waddled away through the trees the girl looked after him with an expression which would have brought a warm glow to the sentimental heart of the big detective had he glimpsed it. Somehow the sun seemed to shine with unusual friendliness that afternoon upon the slim figure of the girl in the nurse’s uniform, and she felt suddenly very close to her big, handsome husband in the Atlanta prison.

  She had never quite recovered from her amazement at Jim’s position in this case. She had always liked Jim but the idea that he might some day assist her—a professional criminal—in a matter involving the possible freeing of her criminal husband—had been beyond the realm of possibility.

  True, thus far Jim had done very little and that little with his customary modest unobtrusiveness. His chief aid had been in moral support, in a willingness to talk things over. What had really been accomplished had been the result of her own unremitting vigilance…but the hour was approaching when Jim was to play a leading rôle. At the moment of denouement she would have been sadly handicapped without him—and she knew it, for there was no possible chance of publicity without an airing of her own unsavory reputation.

  With Jim as an ally all was different. The very knowledge that he was helping her imparted a strength and a courage far beyond anything she had theretofore experienced. And he had promised to be watching from across the street that night—to be awaiting her signal.

  Darkness settled early over the Drive, a deep, cloudy darkness punctured by the faint twinkling of lights from the Jersey shore, the sparkle of apartment house windows, glaring arrows of brilliance from the headlamps of speeding automobiles and lumbering busses. From a window in the Lathrop apartment Mary Lannigan fancied that she could discern the overlarge figure of Jim Hanvey bulking in the gloom across the way. She returned to her own little cubbyhole of a room and waited—waited, it seemed, for an eternity.

  And eventually there came the ringing of a telephone and Lathrop himself answered. She heard his voice bidding the operator to send the gentleman up. A few minutes later Lathrop opened the door of his apartment and then Mary heard footsteps in the hallway and she opened her door in time to see Lathrop and Teddy Nelson disappear into the library.

  Jaw firm and eyes steady, Mary Lannigan proceeded with meticulous care. Fortunately, Mrs. Lathrop was out that evening—“Gadding about like she always does.…” and the butler was attending to affairs of his own. Mary had been left in charge of the complacently sleeping Pauline. She crept to the door of the library and applied an ear to the keyhole.

  From inside came the wellnigh unintelligible murmur of voices. Occasionally one or the other of the men would become argumentative. It was plain that they were bargaining. Mary fancied that she could see the long-sought-for string of Rawlings pearls through the keyhole…and once she fancied that she heard the rustle of new paper money.

  It was then that she went to a front window and, using an electric torch, flashed to Jim Hanvey the agreed signal. She tiptoed into Pauline’s room and assured herself that the child was sleeping soundly. Then into the hallway again to resume her vigil.

  After an interminable wait there came a light tapping on the door. She opened it softly and admitted the mammoth detective.

  “Goshamighty,” he whispered, “that boy downstairs didn’t want to let me come up.” He patted her shoulder reassuringly. “How’s tricks?”

  She detailed developments in a voice barely above a whisper. He nodded ponderous approval. “Fine stuff. Here’s where ol’ sleuth gits in his dirty work, ain’t it?”

  She designated the library door. “What’ll I do? Jim?”

  “Just stick around to look after the remains—if any.”

  “You’re not expecting anything rough?”

  “Naw.…Teddy ain’t that kind unless he’s changed a lot. But I’m gonna stage an awful play just to see whether a feller which owns three automobiles can turn green.”

  She led him to the door and then withdrew into the shadows of an adjacent room. Jim patted down the ill-fitting coat which hung so grotesquely around his girthful figure and rapped once upon the door.

  For a dramatic instant he stood motionless, then flung open the door and entered—blinking like a monster owl in the brilliant light.

  Before him was an interesting tableau. Lathrop, motionless, was bending across the table inspecting a string of magnificent matched oriental pearls. Beside him was a pile of crisp, new one-hundred dollar bills. His lean, rather saturnine, face, still reflected the avarice of a moment since although an expression of stark terror was now slowly robbing him of his naturally aggressive unpleasantness.

  Opposite sat Teddy Nelson—suave, dapper, perfectly at ease. Nelson’s experienced eyes rested briefly upon the intruder and a close observer could have noticed the visible effort with which he pulled himself together. Too, it was Nelson who broke the portentous silence. That insouciant criminal rose to his feet, bowed with exaggerated politeness and spoke in a quiet conversational tone—

  “Mr. Hanvey—this is indeed a pleasure.”

  Jim was enjoying himself thoroughly. He produced a pink silk handkerchief and mopped his forehead. “’Lo Teddy.”

  Nelson waved a comprehensive hand toward Lathrop, the pearls and the money. As yet the astounded jewelry importer had not moved; he sat staring in bewilderment from one to the other.

  “You will notice, Jim,” said Nelson, “that you have nothing on me. My host is in possession of the money and also of the pearls which I presume you are seeking.”

  Hanvey grinned. “You’re a hard egg, Teddy.”

  “You are hunting for some pearls, are you not, Jim?”

  “I are.”

  “Well—in all probability you have them. I am willing to explain, Jim, that I never saw those pearls before—I’m as positive of that as I am that I shall never see them again.” He made a rueful little grimace. “Business is pretty rotten these days.”

  Lathrop was getting a grip on himself. He rose unsteadily and addressed the detective. “Who are you?”

  The suggestion of a sneer wre
athed Nelson’s lips. “You’re a pretty good little staller yourself, Lathrop.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  All sign of amusement departed from Teddy Nelson’s face. He whirled furiously upon Lathrop. “You know damn good and well what I’m talking about. You trapped me into your apartment and brought a dick here—all right, so much for that. You thought you’d have me with the goods and you’d get the glory of having nabbed me. Why you poor fish, they’ve been after me for six months for this little job. They’ve laid off because they didn’t know where the pearls were. They’ve got ’em now—but by God! they didn’t catch ’em on me. They’re in your hands. You’ve got the money. I’m broke. There ain’t a piece of evidence against me. And Jim Hanvey is square. I’m asking him to make you prove that you didn’t steal those jewels.”

  Lathrop stammered. He stared first at Nelson, then at the lethargic Hanvey. “A—a detective?” he muttered.

  “Uh-huh.” It was Jim who answered. “A regular, honest-to-Gawd detective.” He flashed his badge and strode over to the table. He inspected the pearls briefly. “It’s that Rawlings’ stuff, ain’t it, Teddy?”

  Nelson shook his head. “You can’t prove anything by me, Jim. Say listen—” he became very earnest. “Did this half-size imitation of a cigar clerk double-cross me?”

  Jim shook his head slowly. “No-o. Not hardly. Because when you stop to consider things—that would have been a bum play for him. Y’see, Teddy, we’ve been watchin’ this bird a long time—he was sort of mixed up in that Tim Lannigan affair and we figured he was worth lookin’ after. An’ we knew you had the Rawlings’ stuff. So when you and him got together we figured that two and two was pullin’ their usual act. Y’see, we’ve got you, Teddy, for the Rawlings job—while all we send Lathrop to jail for is receivin’ stolen goods.”

  Lathrop tried to speak—and could not. His mouth opened and closed—then opened and closed again. His adams-apple bobbed alarmingly. His voice, when it did come, was shrill with hysteria—

  “It’s a lie—a lie! I don’t know anything about this man. I don’t know anything about Lannigan. What he said I did was true—I was trying to prove that he stole these jewels.”

  “The dirty liar.…”

  “Lay off, Teddy,” advised Jim. Then, to Lathrop—“You might as well come clear, buddy. I know how much money there is in that little pile and I know what bank you drew it from and at what time this morning. I know, too, that this ain’t the first time you’ve pulled a stunt like this—but I know it’s gonna be the last. Now Teddy, if you come clean I’ll see that things are made light for you—light as I can have ’em made. Give me the lowdown on the job.”

  Nelson eyed the detective levelly. “Straight, Jim?”

  “Here’s my hand on it. No promises—only the best I can do for you.”

  “Well,” Nelson cleared his throat, “in that case I’d better come clean. There ain’t no use confessing that I stole them pearls off old man Rawlings about a year ago. You know that an’ the insurance company detectives know it. They knew it so well that there wasn’t a chance for me to dispose of them through the regular channels, so when I heard that Lathrop was inclined to use his position as an honorable man to get away with an occasional dirty little job, I went to him and offered to sell and sell cheap—”

  “No! It isn’t true.…” Lathrop’s face was pitiful. “Nelson, please! This will all be used against you.”

  “Sure—sure. And it’ll be used against you, too,” explained Jim casually.

  Lathrop cowered as Nelson continued the story of their negotiations. When he finished Hanvey returned his attention to the figure of the terrified jeweler.

  “My family—my child—my business—”

  “You’re a fine slice of limburger,” complimented Jim. “I suppose you’ve been weeping your eyes out thinking about Tim Lannigan, haven’t you?”

  “Lannigan?”

  “Yes—Lannigan, the lad you double-crossed—got him to try an’ smuggle in stuff that he didn’t know was stolen. Well, you’re clear of the Lannigan case but we’ll make you sweat for this. Ten years, maybe.”

  “Please…for God’s sake—anything but that—”

  Jim regarded him steadily. “Tim Lannigan is a good friend of mine, Lathrop. One of the best friends I have. It just occurs to me that we might make a little deal.…Interested?”

  “Yes. Yes. Go on.”

  “Well—all we’ve been after in this Rawlings affair is the stuff. We don’t care particularly about sending Teddy Nelson up. And since we’ve got the pearls…how about this: You sit down there and sign a confession that you hired Tim Lannigan to smuggle in those jewels. You can say that you didn’t know they were stolen—that it was simply a job on your part to beat the customs. That’ll be proof enough that Tim didn’t know they were stolen—and, of course, proof that he wasn’t mixed up in the original robbery which’ll keep him from serving twenty years or so in a French prison for something he didn’t do.”

  Jim paused. He fancied that he could hear the rustling of skirts in the hallway. Lathrop looked up pleadingly—

  “What can they do to me for that?”

  “They can give you two years in the Federal prison—same as they did Lannigan. But they probably won’t. They did that to Lannigan because he was known as a professional crook. You’ll most likely get off with a heavy fine—and it’ll clear Tim of that French stuff.”

  “Are you telling me the truth?”

  Teddy Nelson broke in, somewhat explosively—“Hell! Jim Hanvey ain’t no liar.”

  “You can choose,” explained Jim easily, “between that and a certain long stretch for this Rawlings affair.”

  Lathrop looked up piteously. “I’ll do it,” he said at length. “Tell me what to write.”

  Hanvey dictated slowly and carefully, and when he was finished he summoned Mary Lannigan to whom he read the confession. Then, with Mary as a witness, Noah Lathrop signed.

  The following day Jim accompanied Mary Lannigan to the Pennsylvania Station whence she departed for Atlanta to break the gladsome news to her husband. She was tearfully grateful—“Aw! stow it, Sister—I didn’t do a darn thing except have a little fun.…”

  From the train he went to an unpretentious hotel in the West Fifties where, a few moments later, he found himself alone with Teddy Nelson.

  Teddy was very much at ease. He waved his hand airily—“Have a seat, Jim. Make yourself comfortable.” Then, defensively—“But leave that nickel-plated cigar case in your pocket. I don’t mind talking to a detective but I’m not willing to smell his cigars.”

  Jim ignored the request. And as the first horrid blast of cigar smoke assailed Teddy, Jim vouchsafed a bit of information—

  “I fixed it for you, Teddy. Saw Simpson and Clarke this morning—gave ’em the pearls. They were so tickled it was a cinch getting them to promise to lay off you.”

  Nelson sighed relievedly. “Great stuff, Jim. I’ve been hanging on to those things for a year—knowing that I didn’t have a chance to get rid of ’em, and hating to heave ’em in the river. Now they’re safely gone and I’ve helped a pal. Gee!” he smiled—“I’ll bet Tim is gonna be happy when he hears the news.”

  “You tell ’em, Teddy. But not near as happy as Mary was when things come out all right. She sure done wonders for Tim—”

  “Wonders, me eye. It was you who did it all, Jim. Wasn’t it you who came to me in the first place and suggested that I approach Lathrop on this deal? Didn’t you wise me up to the whole works and show me how it’d be a better thing for everybody—me included? Mary did her part all right, Jim—but the whole idea of my selling those pearls to Noah Lathrop was yours—any thanks that Tim Lannigan is handing out is due you. And I’m going to tell him so.”

  Jim regarded him gravely. “You’re gonna keep your mouth shut, Teddy. Shut tight. One yaw
p out of you to either Tim or Mary about that and by gosh! I’ll turn you and Lathrop both up. Which might not be so hard on you, Teddy—but would be hell on Lathrop—him owning three automobiles.”

  * * *

  46 A federal prison that opened in 1902 and continues in use in 2020.

  47 Again, slang of uncertain origin, though from the context, Hanvey evidently means “considerable fortune.”

  48 Southhampton was (and remains) a major terminus for passenger ships, about seventy miles southwest of London. Le Havre was a major port in the Normandy region of France, heavily damaged in World War II.

  49 The line between investigator and miscreant is often a thin one. Sherlock Holmes himself remarked on this in “The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans” (which first appeared in the Strand Magazine for Dec. 1908, reprinted in His Last Bow, Arthur Conan Doyle, ed. [New York: George H. Doran, 1917], 131): “It is fortunate for this community that I am not a criminal…”

  50 The name of the divinity, taken from the first of the Ten Commandments: “I am the Lord thy God.”

  51 The “telephone boy” would be the hotel operator who put the call through to his rooms and hence knew that Mary had called him (and undoubtedly listened in). This is a joke that the boy might gossip about her visiting his apartment.

  The Knight’s Gambit

  Jim Hanvey posed pridefully before the triple mirrors. He hitched his trousers one notch higher, affectionately patted the lapels of his new coat and carefully adjusted the cerise necktie. Then he faced the covertly grinning clerk and his voice held that beatific nuance with which a small boy calls attention to the magnificence of his first baseball uniform.

  “Swell, ain’t it?” queried Jim.

  The clerk, a dapper little fellow who was garbed according to the dictates of the latest fashion folder, was professionally enthusiastic. “Perfect, Sir. You never looked better in your life.” Under his breath he added a fervent: “And that ain’t no lie.”