The Deadly Game

by Norman Daniels

  "That's what I was about to explain. You—fell asleep that that night. That wonderful night, darling. I was going to lay out some fresh clothes for you so when you woke, you'd know you hadn’t been dreaming. But there wasn't anything in the dresser drawers, nothing in the clothes closet. Then your wallet fell out of your pocket and I—I peeked."

  "So now you know I was giving you a line," I said bitterly.

  "Mike, do you think I care now? Though, of course, I'm curious. What are you—really?"

  "A jeweler," I said. "A very high-hat jeweler. A lot of the stuff I told you was true. When I sell someone valuable merchandise, I try to protect it. There's been plenty of thievery going on lately and it doesn't do my business any good when a customer pays a hundred thousand for an item and has it swiped soon afterwards."

  "Then this Fairweather affair is still on?"

  "Yes," I said. I had to use her now; there was no way out of it.

  "And we're both going?"

  "If you still want to and that husband of yours doesn't stick his lousy nose into it."

  Sheila looked down at the table for a moment. "I'm getting to the point where I don't care, Mike. I'm in love with you and that changes everything."

  I wanted to take her in my arms but all I did was pat her hand.

  “I’ll be here every night. Come if and when you can."

  "All right, Mike. And I'm going with you to that party no matter what. Now I'd better run."

  She leaned across the table and pressed her cheek against mine before she went back to her apartment. I stayed in the joint another hour, sampling rye until I was unsteady on my feet and calling myself an idiot for giving way like that. If I kept it up, I'd be in fine shape to snatch that Brindley necklace.

  The next day something happened which didn't improve the situation any, either. A smart artist at lifting jewelry that didn't belong to him was found in the river. He'd been dead when they threw him in, according to the newspaper items, and the medical examiner had stated he'd been savagely beaten to death.

  Like Marty Carroll, this man had been no cheap punk. He dealt in only the best, timed his jobs well and had never been arrested even on suspicion. I'd known him and liked him, and the manner of his death gave me a mild case of nerves. Without seeing his corpse, I knew the same people had worked him over. Like Marty he had either refused to talk or had held something out.

  * * *

  Sheila came to the bar the night before the big job. Outside the joint I had a brand new car parked, and, after we downed a couple of drinks, I took her to it and let her admire six thousand dollars' worth of chromium and leather. Then we drove crosstown, hit the speedway and headed for the country.

  It was one of those New York nights which are like a weather bonus: warm enough but not at all hot, with a three-quarter moon making everything glimmer with silver. Soon we left the skyscraper terrain, and pretty little houses began to flash by. For the first time in my life I thought living in one of those would be nice.

  I finally located a likely looking side road, turned down it and bumped over ruts for a couple of miles until I found a turnoff. I stopped the car, put out the lights and reached for Sheila.

  She tucked her head against my shoulder. "Mike," she said in a whisper, "I can't do without you again. I know that now—after these centuries since the last time we met. It’s hit me so hard that I—I often think I'll kill Jack, just to get away."

  I pushed her up in considerable alarm. "Don't say that! Don't even think it! Sheila, we couldn't be happy if you . . ."

  She put a finger against my lips and smiled. "Mike, you know I couldn't."

  "That's better. I don’t like your husband, but murder is low, and it's never a solution to any problem."

  "If there were only some other way," she said dreamily.

  I was thinking the same thing. An idea had hit me some time back. Not the kind I liked, but, while it would mean considerable sacrifice on my part, it also might work m my favor and Sheila's too. To explain it, I had to come perfectly clean with her. She might be shocked, but not as badly as if the news reached her through another source.

  She wasn't in a listening mood at the moment. She had wedged herself in the far corner of the seat and had her arms stretched out for me.

  I said, "Sheila, I want you very badly, but first there’s something I've got to tell you."

  She moved over beside me. "Why, Mike, you sound so serious."

  "I am. Now understand, if I wasn't crazy in love with you, I'd never say this, but I must. Our meeting in that bar and grill was no accident."

  "Really?" She arched her eyebrows. "Explain yourself, darling."

  "I was looking for something to pin on your husband. We've been enemies for a long time. That night I got into your apartment. I read the letter you had written to someone named Ellen . . ."

  "My aunt," she said. "Go on, Mike."

  "That gave me an idea. I thought if I could make you, induce you to help me with a little scheme that is quite illegal to put it mildly, I'd implicate you so much Kane would be forced to forget my part in it."

  She said, "You made those plans before you met me, Mike?"

  "Yes. I carried them around after I met you, too, but not for long. I realized I couldn't possibly mix you up in this. You see, Sheila, I'm more than a jeweler . . ."

  She suddenly smiled. "You're one of the smartest jewel thieves in the business," she said.

  I just sat there gaping.

  "Mike, I'm a cop's wife. My husband is on a detail which fights you. I've heard him mention your name. He hates you like poison. Then—when I snooped into your wallet—well, I knew, that's all."

  "And it didn't make any difference?"

  "I'm in love with you, not with what you are. Though it'll be quite a change from being the wife of a cop to the sweetheart of a crook."

  "You're wonderful!" I said. "And it was so damned hard to tell you . . ."

  "Don't underestimate a woman's love, Mike. But I'm warning you, I'll try to change you."

  "I know. I hope you do because I'm sick of all this. Alone, I didn't care. The risks were an appealing part of the racket, but with you to think about I'd make a lousy thief."

  "What about the Fairweather business then?"

  I said, "That's where I intended to use you. By letting you think I was a private detective and that you were helping me, I'd have swiped a certain necklace, slipped it to you and told you to meet me somewhere else with it. Or maybe planted it on you without your knowing about it at all. In any event, you'd be implicated and your husband wouldn't have been able to act against me without taking sides against you also. It's all changed now."

  "You're not going through with it?"

  "No—not to get the necklace for myself. But I might use the same setup to throw your husband off balance."

  Sheila asked me for a cigarette. I lit it and she blew a big mouthful of smoke out of the car window. "Mike, I didn't mean to tell you this, but one night about a week ago Jack came home half drunk, and reeking of perfume. When I called him on it, he sat there and boasted of the women he'd been out with. Then he knocked me down—because I began to cry. I don't care what happens to him. He's no good. Besides, he'd kill you if he thought you and I . . ."

  "I hated him before," I said fervently, "but now I feel like committing murder too. Sheila, would he let you go if you asked him?"

  "So I could go with you? Mike, he'd kill me too rather than do that."

  "But suppose he was a busted cop? What would that do to him?"

  "I think he'd go crazy."

  "That's what I thought. Sheila, is it all right if I wreck him?"

  "How else can we be together?" she asked. "After last week, I don't care what happens to him."

  I said, "Okay, he's going to be so busy with trouble he’ll want none with you. He'll start sliding down after this happens. He’ll go so low you can divorce him. Leave that part to me. Is it a deal?"

  She put her arm around my neck. "I w
ish you didn't talk so much, Mike . . ."

  "But is everything all right with you? After what I've told you?"

  "Everything is fine. Or will be when you realize you've got a woman in your arms who is in love with you."

  "It will be too late to back out once we set the stage," I warned.

  "Damn it, Mike, I know that. Don't disconcert me. To hell with Jack. There's just you and me here. Only the two of us."

  "There are things you have to know," I said. "Details."

  "Tell them to me afterwards. Mike, I swear . . ."

  She saw the grin on my face, smiled in return as I held out my arms for her and came to me again. Everything was much more gentle tonight. Our kisses were just as fierce, I suppose, but there was a difference too. The urgency was gone. We knew one another, trusted and respected one another. We were in love too—self-confessed lovers, sure of ourselves and all that we did.

  * * *

  Sheila was stroking my face now, murmuring softly, completely at ease. Her hair had fallen down over her forehead and she looked so damned pretty I just stared at her. She pushed my hair back and kissed me.

  "Don't worry about me, Mike," she said. "I'm strong. I'm much stronger than you think. That's Jack's trouble. He doesn't understand me and he never will, but I think you do."

  "I doubt it, baby. Now the angle is this. We've got to deflate your husband to a point where he doesn't give a damn what happens to him. You helped to build him up and now I'm pushing him down again—way down. There'll be trouble, but it ought to come out fine in the end. I just want you to know it can also be dangerous."

  "I can handle Jack," she said. "When you lose respect for a man, you learn how to handle him."

  "I'm thinking of something else. Sheila, tell me the truth about this. Has your husband been talking about getting me?”

  "Only in the sense that you're a law breaker and he's a policeman. I don't think he implied that he'd like to kill you."

  I said. "A couple of friends of mine were murdered in the last two days. Crooks, like me, but decent guys in their own way. Besides, someone has been putting a lot of pressure on me. Customers have stopped coming, people I did business with refuse to see me any more. One of them was Marty Carroll, but all of a sudden he had a change of heart and decided to defy whatever pressure group had worked on him. I went to see him and I found him dead."

  Sheila said, "Jack wasn't responsible for that, Mike. I won't believe it of him. Snide, cruel tricks—yes. A good old double-cross—that’s in his makeup, but not murder."

  "Just the same," I said, "two people are dead. Oh, well, maybe it has nothing to do with me. I've had the jitters lately anyway. Right now there's only one thing that means much—you and me. Anything else doesn't matter and anything we do to make sure we stay together is okay."

  She was looking at me thoughtfully. "Mike, darling, you intended to steal this necklace all along, didn't you?"

  I nodded. "Sure, but you changed my mind."

  "If Jack refuses to let me go, if you can't break him, there is only one thing we can do. Go away together—and that costs money. I don't know how you're fixed, but these pearls should bring a good price . . ."

  I grabbed her by both shoulders. "Are you asking me to swipe them? Is that what you want?"

  She smiled. "Mike, I've always believed a woman should have enough faith in her man's profession to help him when she can."

  I leaned back. “I’ll be damned. All right—that's what we'll do, if things turn out well. If they don't—if your husband should be there—we'll let the necklace go and work him over. Either way we can't lose."

  "Then I'm to be there and help you all I can."

  "Exactly. Baby, you've restored a lot of self-confidence in me."

  "Just promise me you'll be careful," she said.

  "Bank on it. I have a damned good reason to keep my health now."

  She seized my hands, held them tightly and leaned toward me. In the middle of our kiss her fire leaped out to rekindle mine. Then I no longer had any doubts. I knew things would turn out the way we wanted them to because they had to. Our whole future and happiness was at stake. With such a goal held out for us, we couldn't fail. She knew it and I knew it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Getting Sheila installed in the kitchen was a cinch. There were so many outside servants around the Fairweather estate nobody could keep track of them. I picked her up near her apartment. She wore a tailored suit with a small corsage of flowers and she could have passed for anything at that party. Even one of the guests.

  She didn't know anything about Kane's activities for the evening. He'd left in the middle of the morning without saying when he'd be back. But after I'd installed Sheila in the kitchen, I walked around the house and came through the big double doors into the reception hall, and I saw a couple of Kane's men posted there. Both of them all but came to attention when I entered. So far as they were concerned, I was the guest of honor at this show, and there'd be no necklace stolen tonight. My alternate plan still held, however.

  I wondered what kind of treatment they'd been getting from Kane lately. For days now, I'd thrown them off my trail at will, and they hadn't tumbled to that rear exit yet nor the fact that I lived a double life and maintained another hotel room. The game was beginning to bore me, however, and I was glad it was almost over.

  I knew many of the guests and most of them knew me. A few studiously avoided me, but not Mrs. Brindley. She was a plump, sincere widow of about fifty-two with enough dough to attract all sorts of younger men. She showed little interest in them. She was friendly, anything but domineering, and I thought she'd react exactly the way I wanted her to.

  I stayed away from her for an hour or so, but I couldn't afford to wait too long. Kane might show up and if he stumbled into the kitchen and saw Sheila, there was going to be trouble. So I sought out Mrs. Brindley again.

  "I refuse to wait any longer for a dance," I said with such charm I almost charmed myself. Then I reminded her that I'd always thought her a wonderful dancer.

  "Why, thank you," she said. "You know, Mike, I can always relax with you and enjoy myself. I don't have to wonder if this is the first step in an ardent courtship meant to sweep me off my feet."

  "And sweep a few millions into a gaping pocket," I added. "No, not me, Mrs. Brindley. When I take your money I'll have earned it." I put my arm around her and led her onto the floor. She really was a good dancer and I enjoyed myself. But I had to push things along a bit. For some reason I was getting scared.

  I said, "Your pearls are as lovely as ever."

  She let go of my hand, reached up and touched them. "I do that every time I think of them, Mike. I often wonder if it's worth the risk—wearing a fortune like this around my neck."

  "You own them," I said. "You might as well wear them. I—Mrs. Brindley, has that clasp been giving you any trouble?"

  "Clasp? Why, no."

  "The pearls seem to sag a bit. Maybe the string has stretched. It could even be slipping out of the clasp. Would you like me to look at them?"

  "Oh my—I should hate to lose them, Mike. Of course I want you to look at them. Where can we . . .?"

  I danced her toward one of the small rooms off this depot-like ballroom. We found it empty, walked in and I closed the door behind us. Then I stepped up to Mrs. Brindley and started removing the necklace. She couldn't see what I was doing and as the beads slipped off her neck, I grasped the clasp end and gave it a twist and a yank. Usually the kind of thread used in a necklace like this can't be easily broken, but I knew exactly how to do it. Most of the strands gave way. I walked around to face her, examining the necklace closely.

  "I thought so," I said. "Look for yourself, Mrs. Brindley."

  She saw her necklace and let out a mild cry of dismay. “Why, it’s almost broken. They might have spilled all over the floor. Mike, I don't know how to thank you."

  “No need to," I said. "If you recall, this necklace was in my shop not too long ago and I sh
ould have noticed this. I feel it's all my fault and I intend to rectify my carelessness.”

  "Oh, that isn't necessary at all," she said. "These things will happen."

  I said, "Mrs. Brindley, I can restring this necklace in an hour. With your permission I'll take it to my shop right now, do the job and return it in time so you can be wearing it again at supper. I insist."

  "Well," she said, "I would like to wear it, Mike."

  "Good," I said. "Don't worry about a thing. Leave it to me."

  I slipped the necklace into my pocket, showed her out of the room, and in a gesture that she thought was done in fun, I danced her across the ballroom before I let her go. Then I hurried toward the door.

  There were two men behind me. Men in tuxedoes who should have been given instructions about how to wear them. Two more appeared from somewhere and beat me to the door. Another one went out for a moment and when he returned, a dour Captain Kane was behind him. Kane walked directly up to me. Normally his voice was no lullaby and when he was sore, it climbed a few extra degrees. He was sore now.

  "Okay, Sloan," he said. "I've been waiting a long time for this. Hoist 'em."

  "Now just a minute," I objected, backing away a step or two.

  One of Kane's boys cuffed me along the back of the head and gave me a push that landed me in Kane's arms. He shoved me against the wall so hard there was an audible thump. Then he started searching me. It didn't take him long to find the necklace. He lifted it out of my pocket with a grunt of extreme satisfaction.

  "Pretty, ain't it?" He held the pearls dangling in front of my eyes. "Take a good look, Sloan. You'll see this necklace just once more, when it's identified in court as the object vou stole."

  "Now see here, Kane," I said angrily. "You're accusing me of stealing this necklace in front of a lot of people. Persons who are, used to be, or could be customers of mine. If you must make such an accusation, you might be decent enough to do it in private."

  "Private?" Kane howled. "Listen to him, boys. He's acting like a goddamn duke or something. Go ahead, Sloan, explain why you've got Mrs. Brindley's necklace and no matter what you say, I won't believe you."