The Mystery Megapack: 25 Modern and Classic Mystery Stories

by Talley, Marcia

  Tham loafed around Times Square until time for the afternoon performance to be at an end, and then watched the stage entrance carefully. He saw Merton emerge, in company with another actor. They went to an inexpensive café and ordered a meal. Then Tham realized that he had been wasting time. Since this was a matinee day, it was more than likely that Merton would not return downtown until after the evening performance.

  However, Tham shadowed his man until he returned to the theater to make up, and then he went to a picture show, careful to get back to the stage entrance by the time Merton was leaving for the night. This time, Merton made straight for the subway entrance nearest the theater, and Tham, exulting, followed.

  When Booth Mansfield Merton entered the car, Thubway Tham was less than six feet behind him. The car was not crowded, and Merton sat down. He engaged in conversation with an acquaintance, and Tham could not make an attempt to get his purse. But when Merton left the subway, Tham followed carefully, and he located the actor’s lodgings.

  Tham hurried to his own room and turned in. He was up two hours earlier than usual the following morning, bolted his breakfast at the little restaurant, and then went to the place where Merton lived. For several hours Thubway Tham remained in the vicinity, moving now and then to keep from attracting attention, waiting for Merton to leave his room.

  “The ath mutht thleep all day,” Tham confided to himself. “He ith a lathy thcoundrel!”

  Then Merton came out. Once more he walked slowly up the street, swinging his stick as if to clear a path through the rabble, looking over the heads of the men and women he met. Tham followed him, watched him eat a frugal breakfast, and followed him on up the street. Booth Mansfield Merton took a bus northward again, at which Thubway Tham gnashed his teeth.

  “Nobody with clath utheth a buth,” Tham declared, “when there ith the thubway handy.”

  Uptown, Merton strolled through the streets of the theatrical district, greeting other thespians and talking shop, and Thubway Tham continued to trail him. And again he met Detective Craddock.

  “Well, Tham, what are you doing up here?” Craddock demanded.

  “I might athk you the thame quethtion,” Tham replied. “Ith thith your beat now?”

  “I just happen to be here momentarily, Tham.”

  “Tho do I.”

  “Changing your tactics, are you ? Deserting the subway and going after the street crowds now?”

  “Thay! Are you accuthin’ me of anything?” Tham demanded. “Don’t you thuppothe a man wanth to thee another part of town onthe in a while?”

  “Take care of your fingers, old boy, or they’ll be getting you into trouble,” Craddock told him. “I’m liable to be in your vicinity any time, remember.”

  “Ith that tho? You needn’t trouble to be in my vithinity ath far ath I am contherned,” said Tham. “There are timeth when I like freth air.”

  “That’s almost insulting, Tham.”

  “It would be a pity if I inthulted you,” Tham said. “But I won’t. It can’t be done!”

  Craddock walked on, for he was watching a suspect, and Tham saw that Booth Mansfield Merton was in conversation with another man near the corner. Then they separated, and Merton went on down the street. Tham followed.

  The actor entered a corner cigar store, and Tham watched through the door and saw a thing that startled him. Mr. Merton purchased a package of cigarettes, and when he came to pay for them he took from the side pocket of his coat a roll of bills about four inches in diameter. He peeled off a bill and thrust the roll back, gathered his change and put it into a pocket of his waistcoat, lighted a cigarette, twirled his stick, and went out upon the street again.

  Thubway Tham gasped as he followed.

  “Oh, man,” he said to himself. “If I can get that roll of billth I can die happy. Thagacithy and cunnin’, huh? Neither cleverneth nor courage! Oh, man!”

  Tham had heard that good actors drew down fabulous salaries and were likely to carry the cash around with them. So he decided that the roll of Booth Mansfield Merton would be worth appropriating. Aside from that, Tham wanted to get the roll as a matter of revenge against the man who sa’id such high and lofty things against the under dogs at every performance.

  But it did not seem that he would have his chance. Merton continued to parade the rialto, chatting with an acquaintance now amd then, and Tham saw him flash the big roll half a dozen times Thubway Tham was almost frantic now. He could think of nothing except the roll of bills. He ignored the rush hour, and all chances to “lift a leather.” For the time being, Thubway Tham had one big important job in sight, and nothing could decoy him from it.

  III.

  “I MUTHT get that roll,” Tham told himself, for the hundredth time since he had seen it first. “Live downtown to thtu the animalth, will he? Huh! Viciouth ignorance, hey?”

  Late in the afternoon Booth Mansfield Merton parted from another acquaintance and started for a subway entrance. Thubway Tham followed like a bloodhound on a trail. Tham felt that his time had come at last. He had seen Merton return that roll to the side pocket of his coat, and he knew it still. was there. And Merton was going into the subway!

  Merton caught a downtown express, and Thubway Tham squeezed into the car immediately behind him. This time the actor was forced to stand, and Tham bored his way through the crowd in an effort to get by his prospective victim’s side.

  Tham glanced around the car, slowly, carefully, and saw nobody he knew. He would use his usual method, Tham decided. He would wait until the train pulled into a station, and just before it pulled out again he would get Merton’s roll, dart through the door, and hurry to the street above.

  Tham did not deem the moment propitious when the first station was reached. An elderly woman, half bewildered, was hurrying to leave the train and attracting the attention of everybody in the car toward the spot where Tham and Merton stood.

  But a station more or less made little difference to Thubway Tham. It was the outcome that interested him. He wanted to get that roll, and do it successfully, and he cared nothing for time.

  The train dashed on. Tham decided that the next station would be the proper place. He edged forward until he was brushing against Booth Mansfield Merton, and placed himself in such a position that he could slip his hand into Merton’s pocket and get the roll in the proper manner. As a last precaution, he glanced around the car again.

  And he caught sight of Detective Craddock, who had been watching him carefully, and who now allowed an expression of annoyance to cross his countenance. Tham turned away and grinned. Craddock almost had caught him; it was a fortunate thing that he looked around at the last moment. Craddock, who knew pickpockes, had guessed that Tham had picked Merton for a victim.

  Tham left the car when the train stopped, left it slowly and without brushing against Merton again. Craddock followed him to the street.

  “Well, old-timer,” Craddock said, “I almost had you that time.”

  “Thir?”

  “Don’t come any of that stuff on me, now. You had your little victim picked, all right, and you hadn’t seen me at first. If you hadn’t happened to look around when you did, you’d have pulled off a stunt, and then I’d nabbed you with the goods. But I’ll get you yet, Tham.”

  “Are you an utter ath?” Tham demanded. “What are you talkin’ about, Craddock? I wath intendin’ to do nothin’ of the thort. I wath jutht gettin’ ready to get off.”

  “I know what you were getting ready to do,” Craddock said with a sneer.

  He glared at Tham and went on down the street. And Thubway Tham, angry and chagrined, went to a restaurant for his evening meal, and then went back uptown again, intending to be at the stage door when Merton left the theater that night.

  “I’ll get that roll of hith if it taketh me a dothen yearth,” Tham declared to himself. “When it cometh to bein’ perthithtent, I am a medal winner.”

  Tham arrived uptown again about nine o’clock that night, and walked arou
nd Times Square, glancing at his watch now and then. He would see Booth Mansfield Merton come from the theater, he would trail him well, and if Merton traveled downtown in the subway, he would get that roll of bills, providing Merton still had it. Tham was half afraid that the roll would be missing.

  Everything depended upon it, Tham told himself. He wanted to feel that he had squared matters with Merton. And his chase had caused him to lose several days and turn aside chances for lucrative work. Tham needed the roll as much as he wanted his revenge.

  Ten o’clock came, and Tham, having purchased some cigarettes, turned to light one. Looking over his cupped hands, he beheld Detective Craddock across the street, watching him. Tham pretended not to see. Growling low in his throat, he started down the street.

  But Craddock was not to be thrown off the trail that easily. He hurried forward and caught up with Tham.

  “All jokes aside, what are you camping in this section of our fair city for?” Craddock demanded. “You’re up to something, and I’m going to stop it.”

  “Yeth?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, my goodneth, ain’t a man got a right to look at the bright lighth?”

  “If that is all he does,” Craddock insinuated.

  “Thuppothe you wait until I do thomething elthe,” said Tham.

  “I’ll just do that little thing,” the detective said. “Go your way, old-timer; I’ll be right at your heels.”

  Tham was almost in a panic. He knew from observation that Booth Mansfield Merton would come from that stage door at about eleven o’clock, and it was a little past ten now. If he did not lose Craddock before that time, he would not dare seek to obtain possession of Merton’s roll of bills.

  He darted into the subway entrance at Times Square, crossed through and emerged on the other side, and found that the grinning Craddock was only a few paces behind him. He walked slowly up Broadway and into the midst of a throng before a motion-picture palace, but he could not lose Craddock as he had done many times before. Craddock had determined not to be evaded this night.

  Thubway Tham attempted every trick he knew, but to no avail. The detective hung on like a leech, and whenever Tham turned to glance at him, Craddock grinned. Tham looked at his watch finally; it was fifteen minutes of eleven.

  Once more he walked slowly Jown Broadway, ignoring Craddock, not trying to lose himself in a crowd, acting as if he had given up hope of dodging the detective, and was preparing to return to his room far downtown.

  But Craddock was not to be fooled, and did not relax his vigilance. He followed closely, lighting cigar after cigar, as he did always when he was shadowing and it was possible.

  So Tham came to a stop on the corner nearest the stage entrance of the theater where Booth Mansfield Merton was playing. There he stood at the curb and smoked, and watched the stage entrance from the corner of his eye.

  “Dodging doesn’t go tonight, Tham,” Craddock said.

  “Don’t pethter me,” Tham retorted. “If you want to talk to thomebody, go and do it.”

  “I can watch you as easily if I don’t talk,” said Craddock.

  “Watch,” Tham said. “Watch, you thilly ath! And while you are watchin’ and pethterin’ me, thome crook probably ith gettin’ all the diamondth and walletth in the theater crowd. Watch, you thimp!”

  “Oh, I’m watching, Tham.”

  “And a lot of good it will do you,” Tham said. “I’m goin’ down and thee the commithioner about thith! It ith a fine day when a man and a thitithen cannot walk around the thtreeth and take the air without bein’ pethtered.”

  “The commissioner probably will be glad to see you, Tham. He might want to know how you get money to pay room rent and buy eats.”

  “Yeth?”

  “Yes. He has a way of asking about such things. Better think twice before visiting the commissioner, Tham.”

  “Then you let me alone,” Tham said. “I ain’t done anything, have I?”

  “No, and it is my intention to see that you don’t,” Craddock declared.

  Tham shrugged his shoulders and turned his back. And so he faced the stage entrance again—and he saw Booth Mansfield Merton come out with another actor and walk slowly toward the corner.

  Here was the chance, Tham knew, providing Merton still had the big roll of bills. And because of Craddock, it appeared that Tham’s persistance was going to come to naught. Outwardly, Tham looked calm, but he was not.

  He turned away and walked slowly toward the subway entrance, following Merton at a distance,. He tossed away his cigarette and went down the stairs half a dozen steps behind the thespian. Craddock was at his heels.

  They waited on the platform for a time, and then a train roared in. Tham followed Merton aboard, but not too closely, and Craddock, still grinning, followed Tham. Merton had to stand near the door, and Tham stood beside him.

  Tham was not certain that the roll of bills remained in Merton’s pocket. He wanted to find out, and, if it did, he wanted to get it. And here was Detective Craddock, who had sworn to “get him with the goods,” standing at his elbow.

  Tham decided, in that instant, that the opportunity should not be wasted. He had persisted in following Booth Mansfield Merton, and he felt that he was entitled to some sort of reward. It was dangerous to attempt anything in Craddock’s presence, but Tham was angry enough to run the risk. He would not have done it had he not been asgry.

  He turned deliberately and faced Craddock, but still pressed against the actor.

  “I hope that you are thatithfied,” he said to Craddock, in a low tone. “You have thpoiled my evenin’.”

  “Oh, I certainly regret that, Tham,” Craddock said, with a wealth of sarcasm.

  “But one thing ith thertain. You have to follow me ’way downtown, and then go ’way out to the Bronx to get home. That ith thomething.”

  “I don’t mind a little thing like that, Tham.”

  “How much longer are you goin’ to pethter me?”

  “I merely intend to see you safely home, my dear boy.”

  Tham grunted and looked past Craddock at the others in the car. His left hand had been pressing against Merton, exploring. Tham knew, now, that the roll of bills was still in Merton’s pocket.

  Tham did not like to work blind, that is with his hand behind his back and not knowing who might be looking, but he felt that he would have to do it now. This was an opportunity he could not reject, Craddock or no Craddock.

  He continued talking to the detective, and watching the stations. And then, as the train rolled into another, Tham acted. His hand darted into the actor’s pocket—and Tham had the roll of bills.

  “Here ith where I get off,” he told Craddock.

  “I’m getting off at the same station, Tham.”

  “Do ath you pleathe, you ath!”

  The train stopped, and Tham got off and went slowly along the platform and up to the street, expecting every instant to hear a cry from Booth Mansfield Merton. But no cry came, and the train rushed on.

  “I thuppothe you are goin’ to go right along home with me?” Tham asked, gneeringly.

  “It isn’t necessary now, Tham, old boy. I know you seldom work except in the subway. And now that you are out of it and within three blocks of home, and the hour is late, I imagine I can let you go on your way alone.”

  “Thankth.”

  “I saw you sizing up that bird who stood right next to you,” Craddock said.

  “Tho?”

  “And you didn’t miss anything by not getting his wallet. I know that chap.”

  “Yeth?”

  “Yes,” said Craddock. “He’s an actor—nice fellow, too. But he certainly has been down on his luck the past three seasons. He’s just about broken—owes all sorts of people. There was an article in the paper about him the other morning—press-agent stuff.”

  “Tho?”

  “Yes. It said he was living down here to study criminals and human beings of the lower order, because he was going
to do a play along those lines next year.”

  “Well, what about it?” Tham asked.

  “He’s trying to pay his debts. He’s living down here because he can’t afford an apartment up on the Drive. It’s all bunk about getting proper atmosphere. He’s got a cheap room and eats in cheap restaurants. Just press-agent bunk. So, you see, if you had taken a crack at his wallet, you’d probably have come out loser.”

  “Tho?” Tham said. “Well, that’s all right, then. Broke, ith he? Tho! Ath if I cared!”

  Tham walked on down the street, and Craddock allowed him to go. As soon as his back was turned, Tham began to grin. Craddock knew it all, did he? Merton was broke and trying to live cheap, was he? He rented a poor room and ate in cheap restaurants and pretended it was for art, did he? Well, Tham happened to know that he had coin—or that he had had it. Right now Tham had a roll of bills—

  “And I got ’em right under that thilly Craddock’th nothe,” he told himself. “I’ll bet it ith thome roll, too!”

  * * * *

  Safe in his room, Thubway Tham pulled the roll of bills from his pocket and sat down on the side of the bed to count the currency. It certainly was an imposing roll. On the outside was a ten-dollar bill. Tham peeled back the corner, and saw beneath it a five-dollar bill; then he peeled back the corner of that.

  Ten seconds later, Thubway Tham was standing in the middle of the room, tearing his hair and vowing that there should come a day when Booth Mansfield Merton should pay. Save for these two negotiable bills, the roll was stage money—merely a “flash” roll!

  Detective Craddock had been right. Merton was “broke,” but trying to keep up appearances, pretending prosperity where there was none.

  “And I perthithted,” said Tham mournfully. “I jutht hung on to that man! Perthithtenthe getth a man nothin’ in a cathe like thith. It ith jutht a wathte of time.”