Nevertheless he studied the parking lot and the alley behind it carefully before stepping outdoors. When he spotted nothing suspicious, he quickly made his way to the gray station wagon Bridget had described. Fixing the jumper he had fashioned from a piece of wire across the ignition switch, he pushed the starter button. The engine turned over at once.
According to the phone book Ginny lived in Apartment 1-B at 615 Gaylord, which he estimated to be not more than two blocks north of the tavern. He headed west toward Gaylord.
Expecting her apartment building to be well staked out, he parked on Taft Avenue, a block east of Gaylord. As the odd numbers of streets which ran north and south were on the east side of the street, he assumed that 615 Gaylord would be back-to-back with either 614 or 616 Taft. Locating both addresses, which were private homes, he slipped between them to the alley behind them.
A two-story apartment building directly across the alley had to be the one where Ginny lived, for it was flanked by houses on each side. For some time he stood in the shadow of a garage surveying the building. A full moon made for clear visibility, except where there were shadows, which were pitch black in contrast to the moonlight. And with garages lining both sides of the alley, there were plenty of shadows which might conceal lurking policemen.
Glancing up at the moon, he noted a small dark cloud drifting toward it. He waited until the cloud momentarily eclipsed the moon, then quickly crossed the alley to the shadow of the six-car garage behind the apartment building.
The moon hung northwest of him, which cast shadow behind him and to his left. Moving along the left side of the garage in deep shadow, he paused at its edge to study the situation again.
Since the garage contained six carports, he assumed there were three apartments to a floor. 1-B sounded like a first-floor apartment, but which windows were Ginny’s he would have to guess.
He knew he was taking a considerable risk by coming here, for he was reasonably sure the police would have learned from Amatti how close Jud’s relationship was with Ginny. Which meant the apartment’s stake-out wouldn’t be routine. It was quite possible that the building was completely surrounded.
He had to chance that the police had neglected the back, though. Logical stake-out points would be the front door, both ends of the street and the two ends of the alley. It might not have occurred to the officer in charge that Sands could come cross-lots from the next street.
He was on the verge of chancing a dash across the moonlit back yard of the apartment house to the shadow behind it when a match flared beneath a tree in the center of the yard. In its glow he could see a ruddy face with a cigarette in its mouth. The face was topped by the black visor of a policeman’s cap.
Instead of retreating, Sands merely revised his strategy calmly. As smoking usually was taboo in a stake-out situation such as this, he reasoned that the officer beneath the tree must be the only one out back. Almost certainly another stake-out would have called some objection to the match flare if another one were there to see it.
Peering toward the tree, he could see no cigarette glow. Then there was a subdued flare of light as the man took a drag, and Sands realized he was holding his hand cupped around the ember to mask its glow. His actions suggested he was risking a forbidden smoke because he knew there were no fellow officers near enough to observe it.
Sands leaned against the garage and waited.
In about five minutes he saw the glowing coal drop to the ground, then blot out as the stake-out stepped on it. Sands continued to wait.
It was a long wait. Sands had parked on Taft at about eleven fifteen. By the luminous dial of his watch he saw it was five of midnight before the stake-out felt the need of another smoke.
Sands’ strategy had long been set by then, and he reacted instantly. The moment the match flared, he was racing across the lawn to the shadow behind the apartment building.
This was less risky than it seemed. Though he had to pass within a dozen feet of the tree, close-cropped grass made his footfalls soundless. And he knew that for seconds after the match flared in the stake-out’s face, he would be unable to see anything at all.
By the time the flame winked out, he was safely in the dense shadow behind the building.
Hoping that Ginny’s apartment would be on the left side of the building, as that was the side in shadow, he slipped around to that side and studied the first-floor windows. The only one showing light was the one nearest the street.
Cautiously he moved toward it. The sill came to about chin level and the shade was slightly raised. Hoping that no stake-out in front was situated so that he could see alongside the building, Sands thrust his head into the light long enough to take one quick glance into the room, then instantly drew back into shadow again.
He had hit Ginny’s apartment on the first try. The room he had glanced into was a front room. Ginny, wearing a quilted house coat, sat on a sofa smoking a cigarette. Though he hadn’t been able to see all of the room, she seemed to be alone.
Retreating to the next window back, which was in a room of the same apartment, he tested it and found it unlocked. Soundlessly he pushed it up, grasped the sill and pulled himself into the room. Closing the window behind him and drawing the shade, he flicked his lighter aflame. By its brief glow he saw that he was in a bedroom.
Through the half-open bedroom door he could see into a hall. The apartment seemed to consist of four rooms, arranged in a square around the center hall. Diagonally across the hall he could see into a dining room. The kitchen doorway was right next to the bedroom door. He couldn’t see into the front room without stepping into the hall.
A male voice from the front room froze him in the bedroom doorway.
“You must have suspected how I felt, Ginny.”
Sands recognized the voice as Jack Carroll’s.
Ginny said quietly, “I didn’t just suspect, Jack. A woman always knows that, just by the way a man looks at her. As long as you only looked, I chose to ignore it.”
“I would never have made a move if Harry hadn’t died,” Carroll said in a defensive tone. “You know that.”
“He hasn’t even had a funeral yet,” Ginny said in the same quiet voice.
“I’m not trying to push it,” Carroll said quickly. “But he is dead, and we’re both alive. I just wanted you to know how I felt.”
“You didn’t have to tell me. I already knew it. I’d rather not talk about it now, Jack.”
“You’re not mad, are you?”
“You can’t make a woman mad by telling her you love her,” Ginny said gently. “You just picked the wrong time.”
‘Will there be a right time, Ginny? I always thought—or maybe I just hoped—you looked at me in a certain way too. I know you were fond of Harry, but I don’t think you ever really loved him.”
With a touch of sharpness Ginny said, “I haven’t even buried my husband yet, Jack. I won’t even discuss the subject now.”
After a moment of silence Carroll said abashedly, “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to talk about this tonight. It just slipped out. The only reason I stopped in so late was that I saw your lights and figured you might be having a tough time of it. I just wanted to cheer you up.”
“I appreciate the thought,” Ginny said a little more gently. “I’m glad you came. I couldn’t possibly sleep.”
“Is there anything I can do, Ginny? About funeral arrangements, I mean.”
“Funeral arrangements are already made. It will be the day after tomorrow. And I’ve sent all the necessary telegrams.” After a pause she said, “You might help in something else, though, Jack.”
“Just name it.”
“I have a feeling Jud will get in touch with me. If he does, I want to give him all the help I can.”
Carroll said dryly, “If he tries to come here, nobody can help him. Those guys sitting in parked cars all up and down the street aren’t just bird watchers.”
“I know. Which is why I need a go-between the police aren
’t watching.”
Carroll asked dubiously, “What could I do?”
“I won’t know until I hear from him. He may need money, or a place to hide, or someone to rent him a car to escape town in. Whatever it is, I want to be prepared to help without drawing him into a police trap.”
“Does he mean so much to you that you’d risk the charge of aiding a criminal?” Carroll asked in a curiously flat voice.
“He isn’t a criminal,” Ginny said definitely. “You know as well as I do he was framed. And it’s at least partly my fault for dragging him into our fight with Amatti. If you don’t want help, just say so.”
Carroll said soothingly, “I’ve got nothing against the guy, Ginny. On the stand I did my best to get in the full story, but Coombs wouldn’t let me. Of course he was framed. If it’s important to you, I’ll stick my neck out to help.”
Sands moved out into the hall and stepped to the front-room doorway. “Glad to hear it,” he said pleasantly. “I can use your help.”
Ginny emitted a little squeal. Carroll, seated in an easy chair opposite the sofa, stared at Sands with his mouth open. Sands glanced at the front windows, noting that their drapes were drawn closed. Crossing to the side window through which he had peered into the room, he pulled the shade all the way down.
Ginny gasped, “Where did you come from?”
“The bedroom,” Sands said.
Carroll, over his initial surprise, glowered at him. “How long have you been listening?” he demanded.
“For a while. Don’t let it embarrass you. Any man who could work with Ginny every day without flipping wouldn’t be normal.”
Ginny said accusingly, “You had no right to listen to that, Jud.”
In a reasonable tone Sands said, “I had to know if Carroll was an ally, Ginny. For all I knew, he’d yell cop if I showed myself. As soon as he announced he’d help, I came out.”
Carroll asked, “How’d you get past all the cops outside?”
Instantly Ginny forgot everything else in her concern over Sands’ safety. “How did you, Jud?” she asked fearfully. “Jack says police are sitting in cars all up and down the street.”
“I found a gap in the lines.” Sitting on the sofa next to Ginny, he lit a cigarette. “I’ve decided to fight this thing instead of just running away, Ginny. And I’m going to need some help.”
Ginny laid a hand on his. “You know I’ll do anything I can, Jud.” She glanced at the blond bartender. “And Jack will too. Won’t you, Jack?”
“Sure,” Carroll said a little reluctantly.
CHAPTER XIX
SANDS SAID, “That exhibition in court today convinced me there’s no point in trying to prove to the local police or the D.A. that Amatti’s mob was behind the bombing. If I can get evidence against Amatti, I’ll take it to the State’s Attorney.”
“How can you get evidence?” Carroll asked. “It was a pretty good frame.”
“I don’t know,” Sands admitted. “As a start, I want another look at the tavern. You have a key to the back door, Ginny?”
“Of course. But won’t it be dangerous to go there?”
“It won’t be staked out,” Sands told her. “The police wouldn’t expect me to return there.”
Rising, Ginny went into the bedroom. She returned with a key ring containing two keys.
“The round-ended one’s for the back door,” she said. “The octagonal one is for the front.”
“How about the padlock to the alcove in front of the beer cooler?”
Ginny said, “You’ll find that on a nail next to the cash register.”
Sands looked thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking about that padlock. Is that the only key to it?”
Carroll said, “Harry carried one on his pocket key chain. It was still there when Ginny and I checked over his personal effects at the morgue. There aren’t any others.”
“Then unless he somehow managed to get hold of the key next to the register, the bomber had to pick the padlock to get into the alcove. A lock expert might be able to tell by interior scratches in the mechanism that the lock had been picked.”
Ginny asked dubiously, “How would that help?”
“It would at least tend to substantiate my story that someone was hiding in the alcove.”
Ginny looked unsatisfied. “It wouldn’t prove that one of Amatti’s men picked it.”
Sands said, “No one touched that lock during the investigation. The sergeant looked at it, but he didn’t handle it. The bomber’s prints may still be on it.”
Carroll asked, “How would you get them checked?”
“Ship them to an out-of-state friend who has some connections.”
Ginny’s expression turned faintly hopeful. “Maybe there is a chance, Jud.”
“There’s a good chance. Amatti’s influence doesn’t extend to the State’s Attorney. In fact, I think he’s a little afraid of him. He once made a crack about checking up on me to make sure I wasn’t a plant from the State’s Attorney’s office.”
Jack Carroll still looked unconvinced. “Fingerprints on a lock doesn’t sound like overwhelming evidence, even if they do turn out to belong to one of Amatti’s hoods.”
“Combined with Ginny’s and your stories, it should be enough to bring on a state investigation,” Sands said. “District Attorney Coombs won’t be there to object when we talk to the State’s Attorney.”
Ginny was rapidly becoming enthusiastic. She said to Carroll, “He’d have to believe us, Jack. The State’s Attorney would know I wouldn’t lie to protect an extortioner who killed my husband.”
“You get the point,” Sands told her. “I may never pin the killing on Amatti, but there’s a good chance I can get off the hook. Once the state government starts nosing in, Amatti won’t dare try to rig a trial. My guess is that he’d have the D.A. quietly withdraw charges and try to hush up the whole matter.”
After considering this, Carroll looked a little more enthusiastic too. “You can count on me,” he told Sands. “I’m willing to talk to the State’s Attorney.”
Punching out his cigarette on a tray next to the sofa, Sands rose. “I’d better get out of here. I don’t want to phone you here, Ginny, because your phone may be tapped. I’ll call Carroll if I want to get in touch.”
“Is there any way I can reach you?” Ginny asked.
Sands considered. He didn’t even want Ginny to know his hide-out, and certainly not Carroll.
“I’ll check with Bridget by phone periodically,” he said. “You could leave a message with her. But don’t call from here. Use a pay phone.”
“Who’s Bridget?” Carroll asked.
“Ginny knows,” Sands said noncommittally.
Carroll glanced at Ginny, who in turn gave Sands an inquiring look.
“The less he knows, the less chance he has of being tagged as an accessory,” Sands told her. “You’re both sticking your necks out enough as it is.”
He walked to the door into the hall, then turned back. “Got any garbage you want carried out to the alley?”
Ginny gave him a blank look.
“There’s a cop out back,” Sands explained. “He’ll be looking for me to come in, not go out. With a package of garbage, I should be able to walk right by him. He’ll think I’m just one of the tenants.”
“Oh,” Ginny said.
Rising, she moved past him into the kitchen and switched on the light. Sands waited in the hall until she had drawn the shade of a window which overlooked the back yard. From beneath the sink she pulled a flip-lid garbage receiver and stepped on the pedal which raised its lid. She lifted out the enameled interior pail, half full of garbage.
“The big garbage can we all use is on the north side of the garage,” she said. “I guess you’ll have to leave the pail next to it.”
“I wasn’t planning to bring it back,” Sands said dryly.
A door from the kitchen let him into a rear hall to the back door used by all three lower apartments. He paused in the h
allway for a moment to tell Ginny good-by.
“Be careful,” she said urgently, then put a palm on each side of his face and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.
Looking past her at the kitchen doorway, Sands saw Carroll standing there with a deep frown on his face. He threw the bartender a wry grin.
“Just a sisterly token,” he assured him.
He waited until Ginny switched off the kitchen light, then took a deep breath and boldly stepped outdoors.
At an unconcerned gait he moved from the shadow behind the building onto the moonlight-flooded rear lawn. Whistling an off-key tune, he carried the garbage pail past the dense shadow beneath the tree, not even glancing that way. From the corner of his eye he caught a slight movement from that direction, but no challenge came.
The north side of the garage was the moonlit side. Noisily he banged the pail against the garbage can as he emptied it. Replacing the lid with a clang, he set down the pail and soundlessly crossed the alley. Thirty seconds later he was sliding under the wheel of the station wagon.
As he pulled away, he had a mental picture of the stake-out beneath the tree wondering why the tenant didn’t return from this garbage-disposal errand. Probably he would eventually decide to investigate, Sands thought, belatedly wondering if Ginny would get in trouble if the policeman wondered enough about the abandoned pail to trace its ownership.
Then he decided that the type of officer who would sneak smokes on stake-out duty probably wouldn’t risk the censure of his superiors by reporting that he had allowed an unidentified man to pass without challenge. It was more likely that he would discreetly forget the whole incident.
Sands drove past Harry’s Bar and Grill at a moderate speed. The broken portion of the plate-glass window had been boarded up, but through the other part of it he could see that the only interior light was a night light over the cash register. No one was on the street, and there was no sign of a police stake-out.
Circling the block, he drove up the alley and parked on the lot behind the tavern. A burglar light over the rear door brightly flooded the lot, but there was no one around to see him. After a quick glance in all directions, he let himself in the back door.
Edge of the Law Page 12
