The Deadly Game

by Norman Daniels

  "I know." She gave me her hand again and I helped her out from behind the table. I had a better look at her then. She was built exactly as I knew she would be, which was just about perfect. This woman was loaded down with sex and as frustrated as any female I'd met in a long time. With the right kind of treatment I had an idea I might be able to make time with her, and it was an appealing thought. If I could hurt Kane through her, that was okay with me.

  We parted at the corner and I watched her walk briskly toward her apartment house. Her walk made me want to follow her, but I didn't. If she went cold on me, she'd never warm up again, so I turned reluctantly away and went back in the direction of my hotel, forty-odd blocks uptown.

  I knew I wasn't being followed now, and this was my best opportunity to get established as Richard Owen. I hailed cab and had the driver take me to that smaller hotel on the street behind mine. I ducked across the sidewalk pretty fast. In a matter of minutes I became a guest, paying a week rent in advance, and I promised to have my baggage delivered. I went up to my room, found it pleasant enough and stayed there about an hour. I wondered how Kane's boy felt, trying to locate me. I hoped they all had bunions.

  I thought about Sheila, too. She had a quality that most women I had known lacked. Just what it was I didn't know but the fact that she made me feel restrained and thoughtful was odd enough in itself. Anyway, the whole situation seemed so impossibly crazy I refused even to consider taking her away from Kane. Somehow I didn't think that form of revenge would hurt him half as much as it would her.

  I thought about a lot of things, up until just after midnight, but Sheila predominated everything. And yet, before I left the room, I knew there'd be no change in my plans. She was Captain Kane's wife and I intended to use her. When it was all over, I'd know absolutely just how much Kane was in love with her.

  I went around to my own hotel, strolled in and chatted with the desk clerk a couple of minutes. One of Kane's boys was parked in the lobby and the way he looked at me, when he was sure I didn't know it, indicated that I'd made no friend of him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Next morning when I walked into my office, Mona told me Marty Carroll had phoned and wanted me to call back. He was the fence who'd refused to buy any more of my gems.

  "Good," I said. "Maybe he's changed his mind."

  "Mike—I thought you might show up again last night. I waited until very late."

  I hung up my hat and scanned the mail while I said, "I told you I was going to see about Kane's wife. Well, I did."

  "You managed to meet her?"

  I looked up with a grin. "Sure—she's quite a doll."

  Mona was holding a stenographer's book in her hand and she suddenly slammed it on the desk top. "Mike, you're out of your mind. She's a cop's wife. What's Kane going to do when he finds out?"

  "Nothing. Not one God-damned thing, baby, because his wife is going to help me pull a job and be as guilty as I. I don't think Kane will let her take the rap along with me, and if he doesn't—he's cooked from then on."

  "How do you know she'll help you? Mike, be reasonable."

  I said, "Sheila Kane is lonely, sore at her husband, craving company and a few kind words. Kane doesn't stay home at all. He chases, as you learned, but Sheila doesn't know that. We're pretty good friends already and by the time I'm set to take that Brindley necklace, she'll be glad to give me a hand. Without knowing exactly what it's all about, of course."

  Mona chewed off some of the rouge on her lower lip. "I'm not saying you can't get away with it, Mike. But the risk isn't worth it." Her black eyes got chillier and narrower. "Unless you're falling for Sheila Kane."

  I didn't want to talk about it. Mona irritated me this morning. I said, "Let's get some work done. After all, we run a business—or what's left of it. Did Marty tell you when I should phone him back?"

  "No. Any time, I suppose."

  I looked up Marty's number, dialed it and he answered right away.

  "Mike, I'm glad I reached you. Listen, I was a fool to turn you away. An old, crazy fool. You're one of my best clients, and if you have anything for me, bring it down."

  "I'll see you this afternoon, around three," I said. "You'll need about twenty grand to do business with me, Marty."

  "I'll have it ready—and maybe I'll warm your ears a bit, too. I don't like the way things are going, Mike, and if anybody can stop them, you can."

  I wondered what he meant. Marty wasn't one to indulge in fantasies. If he said he knew something he didn't like, that was exactly how it would be. I was half tempted to drop everything and go see him right away. I didn't though. One of my oldest customers came in to tell me he wanted to clear up his account and we weren't going to do any more business together. I had Mona type out the account, accepted his check and I didn't even bother to try and find out what made him drop me that way. I knew.

  I walked out at two-fifteen, though it required not more than twenty minutes to reach Marty's place. I needed time to throw Kane's shadows off my trail and the easiest way was by the route I'd already picked out for myself. I took a cab to my hotel, paid the driver before he stopped and was out of the taxi and through the lobby before that plain black sedan which had stuck behind us even had a chance to double park.

  I got off the elevator at my floor, ran to the stairway and went down again. I passed through the porter's room without being seen, crossed the court and went over the fence. On the next street I hailed a cab and had myself driven to within three blocks of Marty's place. Then I walked briskly, doubled back a couple of times and made certain I'd thrown off the watchdogs.

  Then I opened the door of Marty's shop and walked in. There was a stillness I didn't like.

  "Marty!" I called out.

  There was no answer. I went around behind his counter, sure something was wrong. This was a jewelry store, and no owner in his right mind would go off and leave the door unlocked.

  I went into Marty's little workshop. A fluorescent light was on over the worktable. A wedding ring lay on a piece of dark velvet. I picked it up. Marty had been engraving the ring, but only one set of initials had been completed.

  There was a storeroom further back, and I went there next. When I pushed open the door, I knew what had happened before I even turned on the light. There was an odor in that back room. One I hadn't smelled since Iwo and Okinawa. Blood has an odor all its own. I lit a match. Marty lay on his back, his head in a pool of his own blood. The match burned my fingers before I dropped it.

  I turned on the light, kicked the door shut and knelt beside him. His shirt had been almost ripped off and his undershirt torn to shreds. Bruises covered every inch of his torso. They'd been made by a combination of punches and kicks. There were blue marks around his throat and his right ear was almost torn off. All this hadn't been done in seconds; someone had methodically beaten him to death.

  I didn't touch him. I just got to my feet and stood there. Marty may have been a crook, but he'd harmed no one physically, and he was an old man, incapable of much resistance. I left the back room, wiping off the doorknob and the light switch. I wiped everything else I might have touched and went to the safe in the front of the store. It was closed and locked. Burglary hadn't been the motive for that killing.

  It occurred to me that someone might have known I had a date with Marty, so this was no place for me. I got out of there fast, but first making certain that there was nobody to notice me. I walked north, entered a bar and had a double rye. I took it to a corner table, sat down and swilled it like a lush. Then I yelled for more.

  Three double ryes later I wasn't feeling any better. I wanted to curse and I wanted to cry. Poor old Marty.

  Why had he been murdered and in that horrible way? It must have been plain torture, with a purpose—and could that purpose also concern me? Marty had wanted to tell me something. He hadn't believed it so important that it wouldn't wait until I arrived, but nevertheless I thought I'd detected a note of urgency in his voice when we talked over the phone.


  It seemed somehow shameful to have left him like that-undignified, half naked, dead. He'd been such a fussy little old man when he was alive. I was half tempted to go bad make him tidy and decent, but that was insane. I walked to the nearest subway station, rode uptown and headed for my office building. Mona was gone and the office locked up when I got there. I let myself in, wishing I'd brought along a bottle, but smoked cigarettes instead until I couldn't taste then any longer.

  Murder placed a new slant on things. At least it did until I began using my head. What did that killing have to do with me? Nothing, of course. I'd just been the man who'd found the body. Marty and I had never been close; we shared no secrets. I didn't even know one other of his customer nor where he sold the gems I brought to him.

  I had to forget Marty and what I saw at his shop. It was none of my business. It didn't matter one bit—but I drank myself into a mild alcoholic fog at dinner. I had to walk twenty blocks to sober up, and the only happiness I got out of it was the knowledge that Kane's boys were getting sore feet, too.

  When I returned to my hotel, I had an idea my shadows would nestle down, too, with the hope of staying there for a while. I was in no hurry, so I changed into fresh clothes before I went out the back way, over the fence and showed myself briefly at the little hotel where I was known as Richard Owen.

  By nine I sauntered into the same bar and grill around the corner from Kane's place and felt genuine disappointment when I didn't see Sheila anywhere about. I went to the same booth we'd shared the night before, hoping she would come. I'd been so damned certain of her last night, and yet I had no real reason to be.

  Half an hour went by. I began seeing Marty Carroll again, all bloody and beaten. I knew that by now the cop on the beat would have found the door unlocked and would have discovered Marty.

  Then Sheila came into the place and Marty's grisly image faded from my mind. I got up quickly and reached out a hand as she approached. I wanted to take her in my arms. Instead, I helped her get seated, ordered drinks and we silently toasted one another. I said, "Husband off chasing crooks again?"

  She nodded glumly. "He came home way after midnight, slept until noon and then went right out. He didn't even touch breakfast."

  "The guy is nuts."

  She shook her head and smiled wanly. "No—but he has two wives—a badge and me."

  "How much longer are you going to put up with it?"

  "I don't know. Forever, I suppose. While he was sleeping this morning, a bill collector came and put up an awful fuss. I told Jack about it when he woke up, and he laughed and said no bill collector ever worried him.''

  I didn't understand this, and I said so. "If your husband is police brass—and captains are—he can't afford to get into financial trouble. It isn't normal for a man in his position not to give a damn."

  "Well, he doesn't. He leaves all the worrying to me. Dick, I don't want to talk about him tonight."

  I swallowed the last of my drink. "Okay, I'll provide the entertainment. You're not to ask any questions or make any objections. We're going places, beginning right now."

  I took her to Henri's, an out of the way but lush little place where the food was the finest, drinks the best, and a small dance band provided some of the nicest music in New York. We ate and then we danced. The bill was high, but so were my sights. Sheila made the place seem plusher, the food better and the music dreamier. When we left the evening seemed as young as a kitten.

  After Henri's we took in another place, a night club this time. The floor show wasn't bad. I don't think either of us saw much of it because we were too busy looking at one another. She'd warmed up some, and when the dancing began I pulled her close, as if I'd been dancing with her all of my life. Once I brushed my lips against her cheek and felt her stiffen, which stopped me.

  It was one-thirty when I finally took her home. The lobby of her apartment house was empty and silent. We went over to one of the darker corners and I drew her to me. She was willing enough but scared, too. She kept looking toward the entrance, and I knew what worried her. Kane worried me too.

  I knew she wanted to go up to her apartment. I kissed her just once not long or hard, and let go of her while I still had the will power to do it. She touched my cheek tenderly, turned and hurried to the elevator. I waited until the car started up and then I walked out.

  I kept on walking for about half an hour. There was so much on my mind I couldn't sort it out, and the picture of Marty Carroll kept coming back. I was worried about that murder, unsure of myself about Sheila and sore at Kane. I put Kane and Marty out of my mind and concentrated on Sheila and my original plan to make a sucker out of her. Should I drop the whole thing? What did she mean to me, anyway? She was beautiful—wonderful—but I had doubts that I'd ever really make the grade with her. So what could I gain? And—she was Captain Kane's wife. Through her, I might be able to stop that slob in his tracks and keep him off my back indefinitely. Maybe he didn't care much about Sheila, but a detective captain on the Robbery Squad who lets his wife help a jewel thief put over a caper simply isn't long for a policeman's world. Only through Sheila could I get at him. I made up my mind nothing was going to stop me.

  And while I fashioned that determination, I could feel her in my arms again—feel her lips against mine, her body close to me. I yelled for a taxi and gave the driver Mona's address.

  * * *

  She was getting ready for bed and had thrown a robe over her nightie before she let me in. I went over to her little bar and dumped about four shots of whisky into a glass, carried it to a chair and sat down heavily.

  Mona watched me. "Mike, what's the matter?" she asked.

  "Everything," I said. "But mostly Marty Carroll."

  "What about him?"

  I told her and added the details. "Somebody literally beat him to death. Punched and kicked him until he couldn't take any more and just died."

  Mona sat down abruptly, her face a dead white. "Mike—who did it?"

  "How in hell do I know? I got out of there as fast as could."

  She tucked her legs under her on the divan, "I've had a feeling, Mike. That's why I've been getting scared. Do you think Kane could have . . .?”

  "Bumped Marty? For Christ's sake, why? Kane knew was a fence and knew I did business with him. There was always a chance Kane could reach me through Marty, so why kill him? No—it's something else."

  "And haven't you the vaguest idea?"

  "Only some foggy notions. Maybe some of this pressure brought to bear on me wasn't exerted by Kane. Maybe there's somebody in the same line as we are who doesn't want our kind of competition. When I talked to Marty on the phone, he sounded sore about something. But Ernie Haver told me it was Kane putting on the heat."

  "Haver could have lied," Mona said.

  I nodded, for the same idea had occurred to me.

  Mona moved her legs to the floor. "Come over and sit by me, darling. I've never seen you so worried."

  The invitation was one I hadn't been seeking at the moment, but I accepted it eagerly enough. With my arm around her, gently touching the swell of her breast, I concluded that I was a damn fool. I didn't have to sneak into dark corners to get Mona, nor wonder if she'd repulse my advances. I tilted Mona's head back and kissed her as warmly as I would have kissed Sheila right then.

  Mona exhaled sharply when I let go of her. "Brother,'' she said, "you really mean it tonight. How come?"

  "Stop asking silly questions." I pulled the robe back from her shoulders. Her nightie was sheer, and the warmth of her came through as if she were naked.

  "Mike," she held the flat of one hand against my chest, keeping me off for a moment, "did you see Sheila Kane tonight?"

  "Yes, I talked to her."

  "And you didn't get far, did you? That’s why you came here. Damn you, Mike, you let another girl get you all excited and then come to me . . ."

  I put my hand over her mouth and shushed her. "I saw Sheila because I'm setting her up. I'm going to
pull that Brindley pearl necklace job, and Sheila's going to help me. When it's over, she'll be a crook, too, and if Kane presses me too hard, he'll find about it. He'll discover that if he sends me up, his beautiful wife goes right along.”

  She was biting at the palm of my hand. I let her go, but while the explanation seemed to satisfy her to a certain extent, she was still shooting sparks.

  "If I could only believe that," she said. I pushed her away from me. "I told you facts. If you can't believe them, what's the use in my staying here?"

  "No, Mike," she cried. She grabbed my arm, yanked me toward' her, threw both arms about my neck and pulled me down. She was more than ready for my kiss this time.

  But I kept seeing Sheila, thinking she was in my arm wishing she were.

  Mona got up long enough to turn off all the lights. Even the darkness didn't help. Sheila came shining right through. I tried to concentrate. It was no use. It was Sheila in my arms. Sheila I kissed, Sheila's hot breath against my chest. I felt like yelling my head off in exasperation.

  When I got home and tumbled into bed, I knew one thing I had to have. Sheila. Afterwards, it wouldn't matter. I could go through with my plans and use her for a sap but first she had to be all mine. And I knew I wouldn't wait very long.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I couldn't concentrate the next day. There wasn't much business anyway, and I didn't resent the fact. I fiddled around with that little necklace-snipping device, using Mona as a model, until I was really proficient in the use of the thing.

  Mona seemed exceptionally happy, and I guessed that she was satisfied that my interest in Sheila was purely material. We went over my plans for the Brindley job. Mona was good at estimating the chances, weighing facts and generally helping me get the whole thing set up.

  Around two in the afternoon Ernie Haver walked in. didn't seem to remember the pushing around I'd given him a couple of days before. But Ernie just then was a badly worried young man.