Maria took a seat and surveyed Ransome more thoroughly. At close quarters he was not quite so repulsive as she had imagined. He was neatly dressed, had thick, coarse hands with needless numbers of rings on the fingers. His face was puffy and flabby-jowled, probably from almost interminable confinement in a smoky atmosphere.
“One or two things you might as well understand, big shot,” Pulp said affably, kicking the door shut. “This lady’s in my hands, see? One pass at her will make my trigger finger jump.”
Ransome moved slowly to his desk, turned to face Maria.
“Well, what is this? A stick-up, a business call, or what?”
“Have you looked through your safe this morning, Mr. Ransome?” Maria asked calmly.
“My safe?” He looked mystified for a moment; then he gave a start and swung aside to a picture on the wall. It moved aside and revealed a safe door. In a moment he had it open, dived his hand into the empty interior— Suddenly he swung round, so suddenly Pulp leveled his automatic with even more accuracy.
“Take it easy, Ransome. Remember what I told you!”
“Just what do you know about this?” Ransome breathed, his lips twitching. “Somebody’s cleaned out my safe and there isn’t anybody living who can do that to me and get away with it! Nobody! Understand?”
“Your safe was emptied last night during the riot,” Maria said, unmoved. “The documents taken will remain in my possession until you give me certain information.”
“In your possession!” Ransome stared at her in speechless amazement for a moment; then his emotions exploded. “Who in hell do you think you are? Do you realize—”
“You’re talking to Black Maria, Ransome. Better use the soft pedal,” Pulp advised.
“Black Maria!” Ransome blazed. “Never heard of you!”
“You have now,” Maria murmured.
“She’s got more dope on you, big shot, than the police ever even sniffed at! She pulled a straight clean job while your back was turned. Your safe emptied—just like that!”
“Nobody can do this to me,” Ransome repeated, breathing hard. “Nobody, I tell you—”
“On the contrary, Ransome, it has been done,” Maria interrupted him curtly. “What is more, I do not intend to sit here listening to your blustering threats. I am here for business: you, as a man of business—in fact many businesses—should appreciate the point. Sit down and listen to what I have to say.”
“I’ll be damned if I will!”
“Do as you’re told!” Pulp commanded, his jaw squaring.
Ransome obeyed slowly, his black brows scowling. He turned and looked at Maria again.
“I suppose you realize that for the theft of my documents I can have the police pick you up?”
“I realize it—but maybe you can tell what will happen if the police get the documents first? There is plenty in those papers that could make your position very—well, difficult.”
“Is that my stuff in that parcel?” Ransome snapped; and Maria’s hand closed over it more tightly.
“Yes—but don’t forget a revolver is covering you,” she replied. “I am prepared to do business with you, Ransome, for my chief aim is not so much to expose you as to get a confession from you—or a statement, whichever you care to call it.... I am referring to Arthur Salter.”
Ransome smiled crookedly. “Well, what about him? He is back in the hands of the law, isn’t he? What’s that to do with me? He was convicted of converting company funds to his own use—”
“He was convicted, Ransome, because you arranged it. And unless you are prepared to admit the fact and bring the whole thing into the open your parcel of documents will find its way to the quarter where it can do the most good for decent society. You can take your choice.”
“And you have the face to think you can get away with this?” Ransome blazed. “Do you think for one moment I’d let you hand over that stuff to the police? You don’t know just how much power I have got, Black Maria.”
“True,” Maria shrugged; then with the glacier glint back in her blue eyes she went on, “But I do know how much power I have got! You were not clever enough to prevent me getting the incriminating documents I needed, and you certainly will not be clever enough to prevent the rest of my plans coming to a head.”
“If you know what’s good for you you’ll hand those papers over!” Ransome shouted. “You can’t get—”
“Get wise to yourself, Ransome!” Pulp snapped. “Get it through your thick skull that Black Maria’s got you taped! And if it comes to that, get it through your skull that I wouldn’t mind drilling you. You’re a pretty low-down sort of heel anyway, and by rubbing you out I’d probably be doin’ lots of guys a favor. I know enough to fix the rap for your murder on somebody else, don’t you forget it. I haven’t dealt with your kind of scum all my life for nothing.... So start talking to the lady, and talk fast!”
Ransome relaxed a little, shrugged his heavy shoulders.
“I guess it seems as though our carrot-headed friend has all the advantage,” he commented bitterly. “Okay, I’ll listen.... What about Arthur Salter? What do you want me to do?”
“You will write a statement to the effect that his arrest was a—a frame-up, and you will state explicitly upon whose orders you acted. You had no particular reason for wanting Salter out of the way, but another man—Ralph Black—had.”
Ransome looked vaguely surprised, then he gave a reluctant nod.
“You’re right— But look here, this ‘Black’ business is getting catching. Ralph Black—Black Maria....” His dark eyes took on a glint. “I get it! You’re his sister! He told me about you once....”
“Indeed!” Maria froze completely. “Then you may understand why I am interested in this business.... My brother told you to fix up some charge against Arthur Salter to get him out of the way because he wished to marry Patricia Black—”
“Right,” Ransome assented grimly. “I’ll tell you how it happened if that’s what you want—but only on the understanding I get that parcel when we’re through....”
Maria nodded gravely. “You have my assurance. Go on.”
“Ralph Black and me did plenty of business deals together, and one deal involved a pretty large amount of money. Now I’m a guy that can’t afford to stand out of money for long; too big an overhead. So I wrote Black that I’d do plenty if he didn’t come across with the payment, see? He handed me a lot of baloney about being embarrassed or something. Maybe he was; I wouldn’t know— but I did know I’d got to have my money....”
“Which in the first place, as I understand it, was borrowed not by my brother himself but by one of his underlings?” Maria put in.
“Yes, that’s so. As a matter of fact, it was one of his chain store managers, but it still made Black responsible for the whole return. I have no truck with underlings when it comes to repayments. Well, I wrote Black letters, but they had no effect; I tried to see him, and failed. Then at last I got him by telephone. He told me he couldn’t lay his hands on the actual cash at that time, but that he had an investment bond he’d transfer to me if I liked. Now the bond was worth double the money he owed me. He asked me if I was prepared to do a simple extra job to make the thing quits. I said I was.”
“Which was to fix Arthur Salter?” Maria snapped.
“Right! That’s all there is to it. I fixed up a nice job and Black sent me the bond. It’s amongst those papers you’ve got, as a matter of fact.”
Maria mused for a moment. “Then that virtually brought to an end any real need to threaten Ralph Black for the money he owed you?”
“Sure it did. A week later your brother committed suicide, so I guess I only got what was owing to me just in time.”
“You’ve been very explanatory,” Maria observed. “Now you will write a statement to the effect that you were ordered to do the job at the behest of my brother and—”
“Nothing doing!” Ransome shook his sleek head. “Just what kind of a mug do you think I am? If I were to sign a
statement like that, I’d have the police poking their noses into all my activities and that’s a chance I can’t take.”
“You can take it or let the police have these papers,” Maria stated flatly.
Ransome thought for a moment, then he looked up eagerly.
“Listen, there may be other ways! I can pay off a guy called ‘Bristles’ who’d be willing to take the rap in Salter’s place— Besides, think of the scandal it’s going to make for the Black family if it’s known your late brother deliberately had a man framed.”
“Your concern for the family doesn’t interest me, Ransome. I have also heard about paying off other men to take the blame, but that is of no use to me. I want a statement of fact and I mean to get it—an exact report of your orders, the investment bond you received, everything!”
Ransome thumped his fist on the desk.
“Supposing I do as you ask: do you think the police would accept the statement as given by me to you, and so to them? Like hell! I’d say you intimidated me into writing it. No, it won’t work: I promise you that.”
“You are getting very irksome, Ransome,” Maria said wearily. “I’ve told you what I want, and unless I get it I shall ask Mr. Martin to give his trigger finger some exercise.”
“Right!” Pulp agreed, his brows lowering. “Get busy, Ransome, and start curling yourself around some notepaper!”
Ransome compressed his lips and turned savagely to the typewriter on the side desk. He fingered it with obvious unfamiliarity.
“Guess you’ll have to wait a bit,” he growled. “I’m no fast typer and my secretary’s away—”
“I’ll do it for you.” Maria got to her feet, motioned Pulp to keep her covered. “I know better than you do what I want said, Ransome. Give me one of your memo. sheets, a sheet of plain paper, and a carbon.”
“I’ve got no memos. Here—”
Pulp whipped open the desk drawer with his free hand and pulled out the requirements. The memo had the “Onzi Financial Trust” heading.
“This is no surprise to me, Ransome,” Maria said dryly, seeing his bitter look as she screwed the interleafed papers into the roller. “I’ve known for a long time you are at the back of Onzi’s. Maybe the police would like to know it, too.”
“Someday,” Ransome breathed, “I’ll catch up on you for this!”
“Over my dead body,” Pulp said affably.
Maria started to click away industriously. At the end of her first line of type she slapped the roller lever then frowned as the roller failed to move. Grasping the knob she turned up two spaces and eyed the lever at the same time. The spring was missing so that the lever flapped loosely back and forth.
“Forgotten what to put?” Ransome asked sourly, as he saw she was lost in thought.
She recovered abruptly and went on typing. Finally she pulled the papers free, planked down original and carbon, and snatched up a pen.
“Sign!” she ordered.
Ransome studied the original and frowned. “Say, what in heck is this? It reads like a receipt—. ‘In consideration of Investment Bond number blank, I am prepared to undertake the necessary steps for involving my employee, Arthur Salter, on a charge of embezzlement—’ Good God, what do you call this?”
“A statement of fact,” Maria replied. “You notice that I have dated the receipt a week in precedence to my brother’s death, which was the time you got his instructions—or so you have intimated.”
“Right—but what is the carbon copy for?”
“I am taking the carbon, and the original will be placed among my late brother’s effects for discovery by the police at the time I shall decide. You neglected to confirm your telephone arrangement with my brother; you neglected to send a receipt for the Investment Loan. Now you are going to remedy the omission and prove the innocence of Arthur Salter at the same time. Your smart lawyers can figure out how to save you. Sign—and hurry up!”
Ransome looked at the still leveled automatic, snatched up the pen and scribbled his signature on both sheets.
“You’ll have to hand over those documents before I can fill in the number of the Bond,” he said grimly.
Maria smiled, folded the papers up and put them in her bag.
“That won’t be necessary, Ransome. I have been through your documents and taken notes and numbers of everything. For the moment I have all that I need from you. I will fill in the blanks for myself. And here—is your parcel.”
He snatched it from her and glared. “Don’t think you’re getting away with this! I’ll settle the account before either of us are much older.”
Maria made no reply, turned to the door as Pulp opened it for her. With a significant glance at each other they hurried through the empty disorder of the dance hall and out to the taxi at the front. Instantly Joey jammed in the clutch and shot away from the curb into the stream of traffic.
“Police headquarters,” Maria instructed; then she relaxed and looked at Pulp triumphantly. “Well, Mr. Martin?”
“You got me,” he muttered. “Probably I’m dumb, but I don’t get the hang of this letter-receipt business. I can see it shows the rap can be pinned on your dead brother, and I can see it makes Ransome a kind of catspaw— But you’ve slipped up,” he went on anxiously. “If you give that statement to the police you’ll have Ransome saying you forced him to write it at the point of a rod—which you did.”
“And suppose,” Maria said, “the carbon copy of the receipt-letter were to be found among the documents I intend handing to the police?”
“Oh, well, in that case you’d be in the clear. It would look like the copy of a letter Ransome had sent out to— Holy cats!” Pulp sat up sharply, his eyes bright. “I get it! You wouldn’t be involved at all! And the original letter is among your brother’s stuff, just like he’d received it on that date, huh?”
“Exactly.” Maria looked troubled for a moment. “The police may wonder why it was they never found the original before when they tackled the matter of my brother’s suicide. However, no doubt I can get over that by revealing some new and unexpected spot where my brother kept his papers—or even the ruse of the receipt sticking at the back of the drawer is not to be discounted.... Quite a small point, which I shall master. I fancy, Mr. Martin, that we have written finis to Ransome’s career— Ah, here we are,” she finished, as Joey drew in to the pavement.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll hang around,” Pulp said uncomfortably. “Cops and me don’t sorta mix....”
Maria nodded and found Johnson in the station outer office as she entered. He got to his feet immediately, briefcase in hand.
“Well?” he asked eagerly.
Maria did not reply immediately. She took the documents he gave her from the briefcase—filled in the Investment Bond number on copy and original letter-receipt, then handed them back and started to explain. Johnson smiled and nodded grimly as he thrust the carbon receipt amidst the wad of documents.
“I fancy that takes care of everything, Miss Black,” he murmured, heading for the private inner door. “Let’s go.”
Inspector Davis was as grimly polite as usual as he drew up chairs, then he stood watching in some surprise as Johnson unloaded the documents from his case on to the desk.
“What’s this?” His sharp gray eyes looked from Johnson to Maria.
“The evidence you need,” she replied. “You will find among these documents many different reasons for arresting Hugo Ransome. And you will also find direct evidence of the fact that Arthur Salter was wrongfully convicted of embezzlement because of the machinations of my late brother.”
“This...for instance,” Johnson said quietly, and handed over the newly-added carbon letter.
Davis read it through, his lips tight. “If there is an original of this letter among the effects of your late brother, Miss Black, it might do plenty towards exonerating Salter—”
“It would exonerate Salter,” Johnson stated. “I’d stake my reputation on it. At a retrial no jury could do a
nything else but acquit him—even less so when those other papers reveal the true extent of Ransome’s activities.”
Davis gave a faint smile. “Naturally, we all know he is a crook. We know he has been a thorn in the side of the law for long enough—but we could never prove it. This time I think we have managed it....” He frowned as he went through the papers and pulled forth the investment bond. “So he traded a man’s liberty and honor for this, did he? Now I know he is several kinds of a rat— And to be frank, Miss Black, your brother doesn’t seem to have been over-scrupulous.”
“I’m aware of that,” she nodded. “But he is dead, and Ransome is not.... The point is that we’ve got enough evidence here to acquit young Salter.”
“Yes.... I’ll see that the District Attorney has everything, believe me.” Davis stopped and looked at Maria thoughtfully. “Speaking unofficially, Miss Black, I feel bound to tell you one or two things. This evidence will undoubtedly convict Ransome, but during the trial you will inevitably be cross-questioned about the statements of Salter and his wife—your niece. That is all right: you will be able to answer everything satisfactorily. But you will also have to explain where and how you got this evidence against Ransome. God knows, we’re glad enough to get it, but the law is a tricky business and you might get into difficulty with Ransome’s lawyer explaining how you got all this stuff. Naturally—again unofficially—it was stolen from Ransome?”
“Naturally,” Maria agreed, without emotion.
“That is where it is going to be tough on you,” Davis growled.
“But I didn’t steal them,” Maria added. “I spent yesterday evening in Maxie’s Dance Hall, just as a sightseer. I talked to one or two people, and they talked to me. One waiter in particular can verify that. Then the riot broke out. I left in rather a hurry, as you can imagine. I was hurrying along the street outside when I came across a bundle of papers that had obviously been dropped. At that hour in the morning there were few people about and I was quite clearly the first person to find them. I picked them up, and knowing nothing of their value decided that the best person to handle them was my lawyer, Mr. Johnson. For that purpose I called on him early this morning.”
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