One Minute Past Eight

by George Harmon Coxe

  He finished his drink but held onto the glass. He slouched down another few inches and his head sagged. His lips moved silently and he eyed the tips of his shoes glumly.

  "Now there'll be no more gravy," he said and grunted softly. "No more publicity/'

  "You would have lost it anyway," Jeff reminded him.

  "Hunh?"

  "Grayson was paying off. He was going home/'

  He waited, aware that Spencer was watching him again but because his head was still down his eyes were veiled,

  "You knew Harry Baker and what he was doing/* he said. "I think you knew why he went to Barbados for Gray-son and I think you knew Grayson had raised the equiva-

  lent of one hundred and twenty thousand in cash for the payoff so he could go home."

  "How would I know that?" Spencer asked sullenly.

  "Because I think Grayson told you so. He was Just the sort to rub it in when he could. He'd been trapped into paying out ninety bucks a week to you, and my guess is that when he knew he finally had you off his back, when he knew your little racket was about to collapse, he told you off. That sort o£ opportunity would give him a lot of pleasure and I doubt if he'd waste it"

  When there was no reply, he said: "Furthermore I think you knew where the payoff was going to be. You were hanging around the Tucan that night—"

  "Hanging, hell, 5 ' Spencer said with some spirit. "It was an assignment. You think I'd take a chance on that kind of caper? With that kind of dough? You're crazy/' he said. "I don't have that kind of nerve.*

  "So what are you going to do?"

  Spencer put his glass aside and pulled himself erect in the chair. He gave the question four seconds of thought and then he glanced up, cocking his head to one side, his failure-shadowed eyes serious.

  *Tm going to keep snooping."

  "Doesn't that take nerve?"

  "Not the way I do it." He tipped one hand. *Tm not greedy. I'm not kidding myself that I can find that cash, but I can try. A guy never knows when he might get a break. If I've got an angle I might go to Diana Grayson. She might pay—say, ten per cent—to get her hands on it. Td settle for twelve G's and don't think I wouldn't. That way it would be a legitimate deal.*

  "And what about Carl Webb?"

  Spencer opened his mouth and shut it, his expression indicating that this was something he would rather not think about.

  "If yon^did locate that money/' Jeff said, "and Webb heard you'd handed it over to Diana Grayson''-he paused to give the thought time to register, and decided to understate the situation-"! don't think he'd like it."

  He stood up, his drink unfinished. He put on his jacket, not sure just what he had accomplished, but having a far better understanding of this man and the factors which influenced his thinking. Spencer did not bother to get up. His head had sagged again. It did not move as his eyes followed Jeff to the door, and they were brooding, reproachful eyes now, his look suggesting that it was Jeff who was responsible for his present unhappy state of mind.

  Once again on the street and not knowing where he was, Jeff turned downhill because it was easier. He had to walk three blocks before he came to a main thoroughfare and located a taxi, and because he had learned the asking price was always high he tried a few words of his limited Spanish.

  ** jCudnto?"

  "Cinco B's. Five B's," the driver added to indicate he recognized an American accent in spite of the suit.

  "Es mucho"

  The driver shrugged. "Cuatro? he said resignedly.

  Jeff climbed in and brought out the piece of paper Julio Cordovez had given him. About to read off the address, he hesitated, prompted by some cautionary impulse that warned him again of the reputed long arm of SegurnaL Because he did not want to involve the little detective in the event the driver ever remembered this trip, he merely read the name of the street.

  Five minutes later, when the driver made a turn and repeated the name, Jeff gestured for him to keep going. A block or so farther along he recognized Cordovez's apart-

  ONE MINUTE PAST EIGHT

  ment house, and he waited until they had gone another block before telling the driver to stop.

  He tendered a silver five-bolivar piece and motioned the man to keep it. He waited until the cab started away before he started back downhill to the three-story building. The fact that the living-room light was on when he opened the apartment door did not concern him, because he expected to find Cordovez, and it was not until he stepped inside that he realized the comer chair was occupied by a woman.

  She had sort of curled up there under a floor lamp, her legs tucked under her and her head back so the light fell on her face. She did not move in that first brief moment and Jeff stopped short, one hand still on the door as his glance focused. Only then was he sure that it was Karen Holmes who sat there watching him.

  16

  WHEN JEFF recovered from the first stunning impact of his surprise, he remembered that the door was still open and closed it behind him. He watched her support her weight on her elbows while she twisted her legs out from under her and got her feet on the floor. He saw her straighten her dress, and when she smiled excitement stirred in him and left his nerves atingle.

  "Hello," she said. "I thought you'd never come." Unable yet to voice his surprise, he could feel the grin stretching his face as this feeling of pride and pleasure expanded within him. Forgotten was the incident in Mi-

  ONE MINUTE PAST EIGHT

  ami. For it seemed to him now that this was a girl he had known and liked for years. He did not yet understand how she had managed to get here; he only knew he was awfully glad to see her.

  "For Pete's sake/' he said finally. "How did you-"

  "Julio brought me."

  "Julio?"

  "He came to the hotel He said you wanted me to know where you were staying and I said I had to see you. I said there were some things I had to tell you. I bullied him/' she said.

  Jeff chuckled as he visualized the scene. "You must have."

  "He couldn't cope with it. He wasn't very happy after we got here—maybe he was afraid his wife might come-but I promised to be a good girl and sit here in the corner until you came back." She paused and the smile went away. "Did you find out anything?"

  He swung a chair over in front of her and sat down. "A little," he said and reluctantly brought his mind back to his problems. He told her first about Dan Spencer, the things he knew, the things that had been said.

  "Did the police accept your story?" he asked as his thoughts moved on.

  "About finding Grayson? Why—yes, I think so."

  "What about Webb?"

  "He told them he had a date, just like I did."

  "Did he say why? Did he tell Zumeta about the hundred and twenty thousand?"

  "Yes, but he had to explain it twice before Zumeta understood what he meant."

  Jeff nodded, remembering that when he had last seen the Segumal man, there had been no knowledge of either Webb or the money that Grayson had raised and was ready to deliver through Harry Baker.

  "That'll give Zumeta something else to think about," he said. Then, his mind moving back, he again considered Diana Grayson and Dudley Fiske. He asked if either of them was questioned at headquarters.

  "Both/' Karen said.

  "What did you think of them?"

  "In what way?" she said, her incipient frown telling him lie had not made his point clear.

  He spoke of his first call at the Grayson house and the thoughts that had come to him then.

  "That's an attractive woman," he said. "She looks and talks as if she had been brought up to expect the good things in life. She looks as if she might have been a lot of fun when she was younger, but she got a bad deal—with an alcoholic for a first husband, and she practically took Grayson on the rebound. The way I get it, he played up to her until he got his hands on what money she had. Since then it's been pretty grim for her."

  He tried to explain his first impression of Fiske. "Until recently he'd been liv
ing with a myth. As a kid, he got the idea Grayson was the greatest guy in the world, and because Fiske never was a heavyweight, the disillusionment was a long time coming. He didn't want to let go of the idea he had created, because it was all he had left at the time. His one claim to importance was that he had been important to a man who had the importance he lacked. Or am I getting a little involved?"

  "No.** She shook her head. "I know exactly what you mean."

  "He was selling printing—not too well, he says—and it was a great day when Grayson sent for him, a rejuvenation he was eager to have, a new start. Then, as time went on, the gloss wore off his idol. He saw what was happening to him and to Diana. Two unhappy people in the same house, bearing the same cross, understanding a mutual

  ONE MESTUTE PAST EIGHT

  problem. I think, maybe without knowing it, they finally realized they were in love.

  "Fiske was a different man this evening. I got the idea he had found some new strength and purpose, maybe through the woman. You could tell they were close to each other. She said they were going back to the States together, and I wondered—I mean, you're a woman and if you watched them down at Segurnal maybe you'd have some idea about how they felt toward each other .**

  "I think you're right." Karen moistened her lips and her eyes were a serious blue beneath the graceful brows. "He could hardly keep his eyes off her, and when she looked at him her glance seemed brighter. She seemed confident and assured and pleased with what she saw. It was the sort of look that women have when they are proud of a man and sure of his affection/' She paused, her voice suddenly hushed. "Do you think Fiske-"

  "I don't know," Jeff said, knowing what she meant. "But he could have, all right. It's a long lane etcetera, etcetera. They knew about the money and maybe old Dudley made up his mind he'd had too much from Grayson."

  He tried to speculate beyond this but nothing came, and he saw that Karen had picked up her bag. When she opened it she brought out what looked like a gold thimble and offered it to him,

  "This is why I came," she said. "I didn't tell the police I found it"

  JWhat is it?" Jeff asked.

  *I don't know. I thought you might/'

  She went on to tell how she had seen it under Grayson's desk and Jeff turned it over in his fingers, scowling intently and remembering the welts on his stepbrother's face. When a possibility occurred to him he voiced it.

  "It could have come from a cane," he said quietly. "It seems a little small but—"

  He stopped abruptly, head swiveling, as a soft knock came at the door. When he heard the sound of a key he was reassured, and a moment later Julio Cordovez slipped into the room and closed the door behind him.

  "Ah~h," he said, his bright eyes assessing the situation in a glance. "All is well/'

  "So far," Jeff said. "Sit down and tell us what the police are doing."

  "For one thing/' Cordovez said, "they are looking for you. You were seen to enter the Grayson building this afternoon/'

  "Yeah/* Jeff said and explained what he had learned from Carl Webb. He again displayed the two scabs on his knuckles. "And once they see these 111 be in it up to my neck."

  "I agree/' Cordovez said. "It is not a pleasant situation. We must arrive at some solution and quickly."

  Jeff gave him the thimble, waited until the detective had a chance to inspect it and then explained where Karen had found it.

  "What do you think?"

  Cordovez took his time, his black eyes busy and his brows bunched. "You have a thought perhaps?"

  "I think it might have come from the bottom of a cane/*

  "Considering the type of wound on Grayson's face I can agree to this."

  "Who would have a cane?"

  Again Cordovez took his time. When he spoke he corroborated the thought in Jeff's mind.

  "Luis Miranda would have a cane/' he said, his inflection suggesting he was not happy about the admission.

  "What about the autopsy?"

  "It has not been completed. The doctor will not say at this time whether he believes the wounds sufficient to cause death." He passed the thimble back to Jeff. "What do you propose to do?"

  ONE MINUTE PAST EIGHT

  Tm going to find out if this fits any of Miranda's canes."

  Cordovez's brows climbed and doubt touched his glance.

  "How will this be done?"

  "I'll have to gamble that Mrs. Miranda may co-operate."

  "Oh?"

  "She was going away with my stepbrother/ 3 Jeff said. "The airplane tickets prove that much. Furthermore I don't think she was going just for the ride. She could scrape up enough money for a ticket any time she wanted to. She could have left before, but I don't think she wanted to give up what she had until she found some sort of substitute."

  He leaned forward and said: "We're not going to get anywhere without making some assumptions, so I'm making one. I'm ready to assume that Muriel Miranda was in love with my stepbrother, or thought she was, and either way is good enough."

  He digressed to explain how the woman had waited in her car that morning. He spoke of her interest in the amount of Grayson's stock inheritance and its potential value.

  "So if she was in love and ready to take what Grayson could offer, she's going to be damned well crashed by Ms death. With him gone she's still stuck with Miranda. She's lost her man, and I have to go along with the idea that she will want to get even with the one who killed him."

  "Even if this is her husband?"

  "All the more so, if she hates him. You don't have to be very vindictive to want to punish the person who kills someone you love. It's a natural reaction. If I'm right I think shell be glad to co-operate, to do whatever she has to do to punish the one who robbed her of her lover and her future."

  He was watching Karen as he finished, some part of his mind recognizing again how lovely she was even as he saw the somber glints in her dark-blue eyes. She nodded

  her head slightly and a tiny frown marred the smoothness o£ her brow.

  "Yes" she said. "I think you're right, I think I'd do the same. If she loved Grayson she has to hate the one who killed him. But I don t think you should try to talk to her."

  "What?"

  "I think I should."

  Jeff leaned forward, understanding every word but not yet believing her.

  "Oh, now, wait a minute."

  "I mean it"

  About to scoff, Jeff realized how very serious she was and checked the impulse.

  "Why?"

  "Because I can do that just as wel as you can and with much less risk."

  "Pardon me," Cordovez said,

  Jeff looked at him,

  "I believe the senorita is right."

  "Thank you, Julio." Karen favored him with a quick bright smile and looked back at Jeff, her eyes challenging, her soft mouth determined. "I think I can tell better than you can if Mrs. Miranda was in love with Grayson. Ill find out if her husband has any canes. I'll bet I can make her show them to me. Why shouldn't I try?" she demanded. "It's not as if I was taking any great chance. 111 simply stop there in the morning after her husband has gone to the office and have a talk with her."

  Jeff remained only partially convinced. He wanted to argue, but again he stopped. Not sure just why this girl should want to help him, he suddenly found a warm and satisfying glow in the knowledge that she felt that way.

  "It is better," Cordovez said. "For you, daylight is bad except when absolutely necessary. Now that your photo-

  graph has appeared In the newspaper there will be too many eyes looking for you."

  Before Jeff could reply, Karen had leaned forward and taken the thimble from his fingers. She replaced it in her bag. She gave him a saucy grin as she leaned back.

  "After all I am a detective/' she said. "Why shouldn't I work at it if I want to? I'm down here with expenses paid and I botched my assignment—"

  Ton didn't botch it," Jeff protested. "It wasn't your fault my stepbrother got himself killed."

>   "I made a lot of trouble for you in Miami and it didn't do a bit of good. If I hadn t done that, none of this might have happened, I'm not sure 1 can help but I'm certainly going to try."

  She stood up and smoothed the dress over her trim hips. She touched her dark hair and her eyes still defied him.

  "Also, in case you're interested," she added, Tin turning in my card when I get home. I guess Dad was right. I'm not a very good detective and I've had about enough."

  Cordovez rose along with Jeff and his dark glance was admiring as he inspected the girl

  6S I will see that you get back to your hotel safely," he said. "Her suggestion is best," he said to Jeff. "I myself will see that no harm comes to her. You have my word." He touched Jeffs shoulder, his voice paternal.

  "Do not wait for me. Go into the back room and close the door and go to bed. You need sleep. Tomorrow it will be better if you feel fit in case our luck turns and you have to face Ramon Zumeta."

  Jeff argued no more. He glanced from one to the other and suddenly his worries seemed less burdensome as he realized for the first time how fortunate he was in having two friends such as these helping him.

  IT WAS after nine when Jeff Lane waked the following morning, and because it was later than he thought, he jumped out of bed and stepped into the hall to see if Cor-dovez was still there. Certain now that he was alone, he came back to put on his borrowed trousers and shoes and then went into the bathroom to find the razor, towel, and brashless shaving cream that had been laid out for him.

  When he came into the kitchen a note on the table said there was coffee on the stove which needed only to be heated, some fruit juice in the icebox. A paper napkin had been wrapped around a plate containing a sweet roll and butter, and the note invited him to use the eggs in the icebox if he desired.

  He did not bother with the eggs, but he ate every crumb of the roll and drank two cups of coffee. He rinsed the dishes in hot water, and dried them, before he went back to the bedroom and completed his dressing. After that he began to prowl as the events of the night before came back to him and his nervousness increased. The few magazines in the living-room were in Spanish and when he sat down he found it impossible to remain there. He smoked his last cigarette and crumpled the pack and finally, unable to endure the uncertainty any longer, he telephoned Cordovez's office. He had some language difficulty with the girl who answered but he finally got across the idea that he wanted the detective to call his house.