She gave a sharp yelp. I pushed her roughly away from me, went to the desk and lit a cigarette. It wobbled slightly between my lips, and it tasted of her lipstick, but I stood there, oblivious to her charms.
It took her a few seconds to realize I meant all this. Then she started swearing. She swore in at least three languages. I didn't understand the words, but the meaning was clear enough. Mona hadn't climbed quite as far out of the slime as I'd thought
When I had enough of that, I started moving toward her with a doubled fist. She remembered that crack on the jaw and retreated quickly, grabbing her clothes on the way. I watched her get back into them. She didn't say anything. Dressed now, she jammed on her hat and walked to the door. There, she turned around.
"I have to take you to see Maxine. They'll kill me if I don't bring you, and nothing but such a threat would bring me back to you. I'm not forgetting, Mike. I have a long memory. I'm not used to being turned down."
She departed stormily, slamming the door. Then she opened it again and stuck her head inside. "I must have the key to get the lobby door open. I'll drop it on the sidewalk outside. If somebody finds it and uses it, I'll be very happy. I hope they steal everything you own."
The door slammed again. I more or less tottered over to my chair, sat down and picked up the brandy bottle. I didn't put it down for a long time.
I felt as if I'd looked down the barrel of a murderer's gun for about an hour. If Mona had kissed me once more—just the slightest additional tease—I'd have succumbed. After that episode, I figured I could give up smoking and drinking and even make myself brush my teeth after every meal. Nobody had more will power than me, and I wished that the shaking would stop.
After awhile, I went down to the lobby door and found her key flung against the doorsill. I didn't feel much like going home so I returned to the office, went into the workshop and stretched out on the divan. What a sucker I was. For a girl?a married one, at that—whom I trusted and wanted, I was now sleeping alone. Mona would forever be a danger to me. With her around, I might let myself go, and I knew that Sheila would put up with that only to the suspicion stage. She'd been through enough with Jack Kane. I told myself she was worth it, though. Worth any sacrifice I could make, and, brother, I'd just made one.
Things were in such a damned mess I didn't quite know where to begin. First, I'd decided to get out of the business and now some blonde was telling me I had to work for her. There seemed to be no middle ground. If I quit, I'd better leave town. The blonde would have more than one Spike working for her. I knew what that goon was capable of and I didn't want to meet any more of his kind unless I had a gun in my fist.
I toyed with the idea of dropping everything, picking up Sheila and just taking a little trip—for about six years. I would be very easy to do, except that two different parties might decide they didn't like it. Between Kane and his cops, the blonde and her goons, I wouldn't last long as a free agent
The blonde interested me. I wanted to know more about her. Apparently nobody saw her unless she made the date. Well, she would, and Mona was too scared not to let me know when and where. Things didn't worry me much, but I was a little surprised to find that I was holding that .45 in my fist when I woke up the next morning.
I had an electric razor in the office, so I cleaned up, sat still long enough to smoke a couple of cigarettes and figure out my next move. It was obvious. Protect what I had. If things became too hot, I'd need all the dough I could lay my hands on. So I fished a briefcase out of the steel locker and filled it with diamonds, rubies, emeralds and little bars of gold. I added what money I had hidden around the office, and I was half tempted to toss Mrs. Brindley's pearls into the sack, too. But I didn't. I put them in my pocket. The one closest to where I carried the .45.
I went around to my bank, signed into the safe deposit department and got out one of their big boxes. I dumped the contents of the briefcase into it, put the box away temporarily and then went to three different banks where I cleaned out my accounts and got negotiable securities from safe deposit boxes I rented in those other banks. One more visit to the box I'd selected to hold my entire assets and then I felt much better. Not even the blonde could get at that box.
I suddenly realized I was hungry so I stopped in at a place I knew and had lunch. It was that late in the day. Just before two, I looked up Attorney Oliver Parks, went to his office and found Mrs. Brindley waiting there for me.
I shook hands with the lawyer and then I gave Mrs. Brindley her real pearls. "I didn't take time to repair them," I said. "Perhaps you'd feel safer having someone else do the job. I'd like that cheap string back though, if you don't mind."
She laughed curtly. "They were taken from me in the lobby of my apartment house last night—by two men, one of whom stuck a knife against my throat. But he was a gentleman. He only scratched me with it once when I called him a low-lifed bastard."
I grinned. Mrs. Brindley and I understood one another very well indeed. The lawyer was all business.
"I think," he said, "that any jury will decide you cannot be a thief, Mr. Sloan, when they learn you actually had a fortune in pearls on you for almost twenty-four hours and brought them safely back to their rightful owner."
I said, "Hell, what do I want them for?"
Which was at least the second biggest lie in the world.
“I understand you wish to file suit against Captain Kane, the officers who were with him last night, against the Police Department and the city. I shall be delighted to handle your case."
"Good," I said. "I don't so much mind being called a crook in private, but in front of an audience composed largely of friends and customers—well, you begin the action. Handle it on a contingency basis if you like or I'll pay any retainer you wish."
He smiled thinly. This guy would take Kane over. I had an idea he didn't like cops either. He said, "Mrs. Brindley retains me on an annual basis and there will be no talk about fees at the present time. Now I want all the facts."
I gave them to him while he made a lot of notes on small scraps of paper. When he had all he wanted, he shook hands with me. "I'll have the papers served this afternoon. I presume you won't object to publicity in this matter."
"The more the better. You handle it," I said. “I’m too biased."
Mrs. Brindley and I walked out together. She said, "You know, Mike, I'm glad this happened. I haven't had so much fun in a long time."
"It might not be so funny when we go into court," I said. "However, we do hold all the cards. Now about the pearls. Before somebody else gets a happy thought about grabbing them, suppose we take a run over to your bank and put them on ice."
"A good idea, Mike, You think of everything."
When we reached the outside of the building, a tall rangy young fellow came over. He smelled copper four miles off with the wind in the wrong direction.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Sloan," he said. "Inspector McDermott would like to see you."
"What?" I asked. "No patrol wagon?"
He grinned sheepishly. "This isn't a pinch, Mr. Sloan. It's just that the inspector wants to see you, and he knew you'd be around this building today and asked me to keep an eye out for you."
"All right," I said. "But first, Mrs. Brindley here is carrying around a mint of pearls. We were going to the bank with them. I'd like it if you tagged along—a few steps behind. Somebody's tried to swipe these pearls a couple of times already."
"Nobody will swipe them now," he vowed.
I winked at Mrs. Brindley. "We've got them eating out of our hands already."
"Do you think the inspector wants to make trouble, Mike?"
"No. If I'm right, he'll begin apologizing for Kane."
"Well, you call my attorney if he gets out of line, Mike. You've done me a favor, and I don't intend to see them harm you."
We put the necklace away in her safe deposit vault while the cop from Inspector McDermott's office watched. I put Mrs. Brindley into a cab, sent her home and called another o
ne. The cop with me was a likeable kid, a little green-eared still, but it wouldn't be long before he'd be chasing guys like me and probably doing quite well at it. We kept up meaningless chatter all the way.
McDermott's office was in keeping with his rank. It had two desks in it, otherwise it was equipped with that same ugly oak furniture city buyers always manage to dig up somewhere. I knew McDermott slightly. He was a good cop—all cop, but square—a big man with a ruff of white hair on top of his head, like a misplaced collar. He motioned me to a chair.
"I'm glad you could drop over, Sloan. Sit down. You had a little trouble last night, I hear."
"It didn't seem trivial at the time, Inspector."
"Oh, I know. Some of the boys are impulsive at times. I think we can straighten it all out"
I said, "You'll have to talk to my lawyer. He's Mrs. Brindley's attorney also, and he intends to serve the papers today. Kane isn't getting away with this."
McDermott flushed slightly. "Now listen, Sloan. If you were an ordinary citizen and an ordinary mistake had been made, I wouldn't have to say this, but you're exactly what Kane swears you are. We all know that."
I laughed at him. "Call in a couple of disinterested people and repeat that, Inspector. If it keeps on, I'll get rich by legally raiding the city treasury."
He calmed down some. "Then you're actually going through with it?"
"Stick around this afternoon and you'll find out."
"Think it over, Sloan. We might be able to make it tough or you in court. Maybe we know more than you think about jobs you've pulled."
That called for another laugh. "If you had so much as a parking violation on me, I'd be sitting here getting hell. That line won't work, Inspector."
"No " he said, "perhaps not, now. But something will."
I walked out. Kane was nowhere about. As I passed the main desk, a seedy little guy with a fistful of envelopes was asking where he could find Kane. Mrs. Brindley's lawyer had wasted little time.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I was climbing into a gray flannel suit early that evening when Mona called on the phone. Her tone was cold as ice.
"That light-haired person will be at the Cafe Francoise at eight sharp. I'm to tell you that."
"Ah," I said. "The summons. Can you make contact with her?"
"I might"
"Tell my blonde friend I'll be at my office from eight until nine. Those aren't my usual business hours, but I'll be glad to oblige a prospective customer."
"She won't like it, Mike."
"Do you care?"
"No, damn you! I hope she blows your skull open. I'll tell her."
The phone slammed in my ear. I grinned, hung up and went back to dressing.
I set out a silver tray with a decanter of whisky, glasses, a seltzer bottle and a thermos jug of ice cubes. It reminded me of the days when I had a fifty thousand dollar bit of merchandise to sell to some dowager who was more impressed with surroundings and courtesy than what I had to show her.
At five minutes of eight someone tried the outer door, found it open and came in. I was wondering what this gorgeous number who had impressed Paul Stoker so much actually looked like. It was no blonde who came into my private office. Two men, one of them holding a gun, marched in. The one with the gun stuck it in my direction while the other went all through the place. He even checked for hidden microphones. I had a lot of fun watching him. Then I was searched, but the .45 was in the vault. I’d been a bit worried about a rambunctious Captain Kane raiding the office because I had no permit to keep a gun.
Neither man said a word. Satisfied that I had no trap set, they backed out and I heard the door close softly. Two minutes went by. I didn't move at all. Then the door opened again and I heard lighter footsteps crossing the rug. She stopped in the doorway to pose. I thought that she was exactly the type to impress Paul Stoker.
She was blonde all right. Startlingly so, and a cross between a honey-haired number and the platinum kind. Her face looked more like it went with the platinum. She was statuesque, a trifle on the big side, but not heavy, so Paul had been right about her figure. She had a loose kind of mouth and blue eyes. They were nice eyes, except the flesh beneath them was inclined to be puffy. My flash opinion was that she'd been an extremely handsome girl, still was, but the days of her good looks were numbered.
I figured she might be quite interesting, but I couldn't place her as the tough leader of a gang of tough guys. If she was, she didn't control them by force of will. She held them in check with her shape and maybe a few promises.
"So you're Mike Sloan," she said.
I arose and bowed slightly. "Come in and sit down. Yes, I'm Mike Sloan."
"You're a son of a bitch," she said without heat. "Why didn't you come to see me?"
"Maybe I figured there'd be too many people around. Here in my office I knew we'd be alone. You're the kind of girl to be alone with."
She liked it even though she said, "To hell with that. I'm here on business."
“I’ll fix you a drink," I offered.
She looked over the silver tray and its contents. "If that’s bonded stuff, I'll have some—straight. No ice. No nothing.”
"Exactly the way I enjoy my liquor." I went around the desk and held a chair for her. She sat down and crossed her legs. She was no Sheila, and not in Mona's class, but she wasn’t bad. My interest started growing. I poured two stiff ones and handed her one. She started to sip it and then bolted half the glass. I went back to my chair behind the desk.
"I understand you have a certain proposition to make, Miss . . . What was the name again?"
"Maxine. Maxine Hewitt, and that's as phony as your line, Sloan. If you didn't happen to be about the smartest operator in town, I'd have sent the boys to work you over."
"Two of them did," I said sweetly. "One remembers the incident better than the other. Now we had definite business.”
"Okay. I'm not in this alone, you understand. There are important people behind me. We know that this town has more diamonds and gems to the square foot than anywhere else on earth, and they're easy to get at if you have the right connections."
"Indeed," I said, "they are. Go on, I'm fascinated."
"Piddling around, grabbing a hunk of ice here and another there, gets nobody no place. Organization, that's what people like you need, Sloan. A good tight organization."
"So true," I purred.
"We've got all the fences and fingermen lined up and most of the actual thieves, like you."
"A naughty word," I chided. "I prefer operator."
"Are you, by any chance, trying to make a joke, Sloan?"
"Why, I'm listening very eagerly to all you have to say, Maxine. You're a very lovely girl. It's a wonder I can concentrate."
She pouted, caught hold of herself and went into a tough act.
"I could have you taken care of, Sloan. Maybe you'd like a trip to the river?"
"No—I definitely wouldn't"
"Then shut up and listen. I told you we'd taken over. You're one of the few holdouts, but I admit you're also one of the best in the business. We want you to step in line."
"And what does it get me?"
"We line up the jobs, case them, finger the stuff and the people involved. Everything is all set. You just walk in and do your stuff. Doesn't that sound like a good proposition?"
"It does. How about the payoff?"
"You turn the take over to me. It'll be appraised and sold quickly for the best prices. We have that end of it sewed up, too. You'll be given a fair shake . . ."
"Approximately how much? After all, I'm a business man."
"Twenty-five per cent to you because you're important."
"But I make it sixty per cent of the actual, not the appraised value right now. I don't need the kind of help you offer, so why should I join simply to lose more than half of my take? You've got to do better than that, baby."
"You heard my offer. Take it or you're out of business. I mean it, Sloan. I'll show you I
do."
I said, “I’ve had experience with your men and methods and I don’t like them." I got up and walked around the desk to stand looking down at her. Those were certainly nice legs. I acted purely on impulse. I tilted her head back, and kissed her full on the lips. For just an instant I felt her respond, but then she was ice again. Blonde ice. She stood up quickly and took a swing at me. I ducked it and laughed.
"Come now, Maxine, my technique isn't as bad as that. If we're going to be partners, why not make it friendly partners? I know you hate formality. A girl with your looks and figure must."
She backed away from me. "What makes you think I'd fall for you?"
"Nothing. I don't expect you to, baby. But I like beautiful women. One like you could tempt me to make decisions that I wouldn't ordinarily consider."
"Say it," she challenged. "You think I'm a promiscuous bitch and I can be had for the reaching. Well, think again. Maybe I can be had, but not by your lousy methods. I'll give you twenty-four hours to make up your mind about joining us. After that—well, use your imagination. It must be good, because you've been undressing me with your eyes ever since I walked in here. Twenty-four hours, Sloan. Then I'll give you a ring and you'd better have an answer."
"My answer could depend on you," I said while I gave her an obvious leer.
"Damn you, Sloan, I only want you in the outfit because you're a smart crook. You mean money to me. I've given you an offer. Take it or leave it."
"If I leave it," I said, "I suppose I'd better stay out of dark alleys."
"You'd better stop living," she retorted. She stood up and hoisted the mink fur piece around her neck. All through this interview I had an idea she didn't know quite what to do. As if she wanted one thing, had been told another was best, wasn't sure about either and only wanted to get away from me for time to think it all out.
I opened the door for her. She started through, paused and turned around. "I usually get an answer, Sloan. One way or another."
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