He nodded toward the door. Louise stood up and adjusted her coat and passed out of Murdock’s sight. George Damon watched her a moment, then followed. Murdock shifted his position, listening for the hall door to open. He was standing that way, braced and still listening, when the closet door jerked open.
Murdock had no warning. He did not know what made Damon suspicious and now it did not matter, for Damon was standing back from the opening with a short-barreled Banker’s Special in his hand and that hand was very steady.
Chapter Twenty
WAITING FOR BEAUTIFUL
IT SEEMED TO MURDOCK that they stood there a long time before there was any sound, or any movement. His eyes fastened on the gun first, the ugly round hole, the firm pressure of the curled finger on the trigger. He let his gaze move up past the bulging coat to the tight mean line of the mouth and then he saw those opaque little eyes.
He heard Louise gasp before he saw her. “George!” she said, her voice shrill. “What is it, George?”
“Shut up!” Damon gestured with the gun and backed up. “Come out,” he said.
Murdock walked out slowly, seeing Louise out of the corner of his eye but not looking at her.
“Kent Murdock!” she breathed. “Why—you—”
She couldn’t seem to finish and he glanced at her and saw that now her mouth was a scarlet slash against the stiffened pallor of her face.
“How did you know?” he said to Damon. “Cigarette smoke?”
“Apple.”
“Oh.”
“It’s like an orange sometimes. If it’s been recently eaten you could notice it, though it took me a while to realize what it was. I thought I’d better have a look. Get behind him, Louise. See if he has a gun.”
“But I don’t know—”
“Do as I tell you.”
Louise moved in back of Murdock. Damon told her what to do and Murdock felt her hands at his hips, and under his arms and across his chest and then, tentatively, under his blouse and around his waist.
“See if he’s got a coat in the closet,” Damon said, and when she came out with it he told her to look in the pockets.
Murdock backed up carefully and sat down on the arm of a chair. He watched Louise put his coat and cap aside. He grinned at her.
“So you knew about it all the time?” he said. “Your husband told you before he died.”
Louise did not answer. Her glance kept straying to George Damon and the gun and she kept jerking it back. She didn’t know what to do with her hands.
“What’s the rest of it?” Damon said.
“Rest of what?” Murdock said.
“How long’ve you been waiting?”
“Quite a while.”
“You knew the picture was hidden under that landscape and—” He stopped, his narrowed glance darting to Louise. “Listen. If this is a frame. If this picture is a phony—”
“It isn’t,” Louise cried. “I swear it isn’t. It couldn’t be. I found it there last night and—”
“And two men had been murdered because of it,” Murdock continued, “and you decided the Jade Venus was getting too hot to handle alone.”
She regarded him sullenly. “Well, yes.”
“Your husband told you about the maps that had been drawn and how the Jade Venus had been painted over them and how that picture and two others by the same artist were included in the Andrada collection. You got out of Italy and you hadn’t anything better to do and so you came here to sponge off Andrada. You couldn’t know when, if ever, the shipment would turn up but you knew if it ever did and you could get your hands on the Jade Venus you could collect a lot of money from the right party.”
Damon was listening intently, his glance moving from Murdock to Louise and back again, wary, speculating, suspicious. Louise did not reply and Murdock said:
“You didn’t think anyone else knew about the secret of the Jade Venus, did you, Louise? You knew Angelo Andrada had died in Northern Italy and you didn’t know what had happened to Bruno but you knew he was still in Italy. You didn’t know that Bruno had got word out to George Damon, telling what the picture represented.”
“How could I know?” Louise said.
“You didn’t know that the guitar player at the Silver Door—Tony Lorello—had brought that letter out of Italy while he was with a U.S.O. unit? For Bruno Andrada. That he delivered it to Damon.”
“Who says so besides you?” Damon said.
Murdock continued to Louise. “Somebody stole the copy of the Jade Venus and Professor Andrada got suspicious and was killed because he was in the way. The lad that delivered the letter to Damon was killed two nights ago. I guess you know that too. So you didn’t want to take any more chances, did you? When did you decide Damon was in on the secret? Or did you just ask him?”
Louise had her composure back and there was color in her face again, a lot of color. She opened her bag and took out an enameled cigarette case. She glanced at Damon.
“Go ahead,” Damon said. “It’s your story.”
“I knew two men kidnaped you,” Louise said, “and one of them stole a painting from Uncle Albert’s studio. And I heard that two men came in a truck and tried to steal all of Roger Carroll’s paintings. I knew the police caught them. I decided from things you and Barry Gould said that you thought George had hired these men. So I went and asked if he wanted the Jade Venus. I said if he did I’d tell him where it was—for a price.”
Murdock gave her a tight, mirthless grin. “You made a pretty fair deal. How much do you get besides the five hundred a month?”
She lit her cigarette and blew smoke at him defiantly. “Ten thousand now and ten percent of whatever he collects later.”
“Very nice,” Murdock said. “That stuff Angelo Andrada buried should be worth millions. Of course it’s going to take a bit of doing to dispose of it. Still, with Bruno Andrada working at that end after the war and with Damon here to peddle the stuff there should be plenty in it for all of you.… Did Tony Lorello try to blackmail you, George?”
Damon gave no sign that he had heard. His dark face was thoughtful and his eyes said he was still thinking hard.
“What I want to know,” he said slowly, “is what you were going to get out of this. Somehow you got the story of the painting in Italy and you came here to get it and get those maps that were underneath.”
He paused. “You didn’t get the Jade Venus. I only got a copy. But you finally found this”—he indicated the painting—“the original. I don’t know how you located it here or how Louise did. But you found it and you staked out the place. You risked the Jade Venus and its maps by leaving it here and that doesn’t make sense.”
The statement shook Murdock hard. Such reasoning came too close to the truth and he grinned quickly and tried to look unconcerned. He thought fast and stalled.
“Why doesn’t it?”
“If this is the original”—Damon tapped the rolled canvas under his arm—“you played it pretty silly. Waiting here in a closet with no gun. How the hell did you expect to stop anybody from taking it?”
Among the thoughts that raced through Murdock’s brain he found one that would do and trapped it. “I’m not a clairvoyant, George,” he said patiently. “I thought I’d done pretty well with my hunches as it was.”
He gave that much a chance to sink in. “When did Louise proposition you?”
“This afternoon.”
“Then how could you expect me to know you were in on the deal when you didn’t even know yourself until then that she knew where the picture was? Believe me, if I’d thought you might cut yourself in on this I’d have had a gun and a couple of cops.”
He nodded toward Louise. “She came here last night. She spent an hour here and she went out without taking anything with her. So I came this morning to find out what she’d used the hour for and I found out.”
“Yes, George,” Louise said irritably. “How many times must I—”
“Quiet,” Damon said.
“No?”
Damon’s mustache twitched. It could almost have been a fleeting grin if his mouth had not been so tight. But there was something different in his attitude. Murdock had talked fast and well and Damon had listened and weighed the reasonableness of his words and what he heard must have convinced him. He nodded.
“All right,” he said. “Put on your coat and let’s go.”
“Go?” Louise said. “Go where, George?”
“Out. Away from here.”
“With him?” Louise’s lashes climbed. She looked at Murdock as if such a thought had never occurred to her. “But—what are you going to do?”
“What do you think?” Damon hesitated. “I’m not sure I have all the answers yet, but with what he knows this picture won’t be worth a dime. Come on, Murdock. Move!”
“But how can you be sure—?” Louise jumped up. It hit her then, the full significance of what Damon meant. She caught her breath and her face got chalky. “No,” she said thickly. “I won’t let you.”
“You’ve got nothing to say about it,” Damon said.
“I’ll not be a party to—”
Damon laughed shortly and it was a very unpleasant sound. “You’re in this now,” he said. “Right up to your lovely neck, sweetheart. There’re too many millions in the pot now to let this guy louse it up. He has to be taken care of. And you’re coming along.”
“No,” Louise whispered. “No, no, no!”
Damon moved the gun and now Louise was looking at it. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off it. She had finally run against something she could not influence by pouting or flirting or sulking. She must have realized that anger would do her no good; possibly she had no capacity for anger at that time, but she knew now that she was face to face with a problem beyond her solving and her green eyes were no longer incredulous but horribly afraid.
Damon moved a little closer to her, still watching Murdock. He nudged her with his elbow and she managed finally to pry her stare from the gun and transfer it to him. For an instant he looked right at her and whatever she saw in his face silenced further complaints.
“You’re in it,” Damon said. “And you stay in. You won’t do any talking either. Not now, you won’t. Not if you value that lovely neck.” He chuckled again. “Though in this state it wouldn’t be your neck, would it? It would be a seat for your lovely bottom.”
Murdock was standing. He had his coat on now and he put on his cap, adjusting it deliberately.
“Open the door, Louise,” Damon said. “No, wait! Let’s get this straight. You’ll go first, Louise. Mr. Murdock will follow along and I’ll be right behind him. Very close behind, Murdock. It can happen here if you want it that way.… All right.”
Louise opened the door. For just a second Murdock hesitated. He measured the distance to the gun and then he looked into Damon’s eyes and what he saw there convinced him.
This was no cheap thug like Erloff or Leo, who could be hired for a fee; this was George Damon and he had millions at stake and he’d had a lot of practice in the old days in handling recalcitrants.
Damon may have read his thoughts. “Be smart,” he said and gestured toward the door.
Murdock turned and followed Louise. She was waiting in the hall. She stood there until Murdock heard the light switch click behind him and the door close. Then Louise rebuilt her face muscle by muscle until it was strained and stiff. She fashioned a flat smile and started for the stairs.
Murdock was a step behind her and Damon a step behind him. Murdock glanced at his watch and saw it was 10:10. He wondered if anyone would be in the foyer but when he reached it the mission furniture was empty and there was no one to see them go.
They went to the door and when he reached in front of Louise to open it Damon spoke warningly and Murdock let her do it. He caught the edge of the opened door and followed her through the entryway and past the swinging doors. Then they were on the sidewalk.
Over on the next street traffic moved in the night. Down under the corner street light a man and a woman stood close together and Murdock saw that the man was a sailor. They were a hundred feet away and intent upon themselves and here there was nothing but shadows and coldness and the hollow click of their heels as they walked toward the big black sedan Murdock had seen drive off with Tony Lorello the night he had been murdered.
There were parked cars along both sides of the street, a dozen or so in the one-block length, but all seemed empty. To the right headlights cut a clear sweeping arc as a moving car turned the corner and for a moment the trio was highlighted in brightness.
Louise stood at the sedan now and Murdock watched the passing car. It was a coupé and he thought he saw a man and a woman inside. The car went by, the sound of its motor fading rapidly, and then the darkness came back and nothing had changed.
“You will drive, Louise,” Damon said. “Get in.… Steady, Murdock.”
Louise opened the door. She was breathing hard now, catching and holding it spasmodically so that when she released it, it made a nervous, gasping sound. She got in behind the wheel and closed the door, staring woodenly ahead.
Damon told Murdock to open the rear door, standing well back so that the pocket which shielded the gun was out of reach. Murdock obeyed, turning slightly as he did so. Damon was still five feet away and there was finally nothing to do but get in.
“Over in the far corner,” Damon said.
He moved up slowly, taking the gun from his pocket now and holding it close to his body, still carrying the rolled canvas under his left arm. He stepped to the edge of the opened door.
Beyond him something moved. There had been no sound that Murdock heard but in that instant he saw the sliding shadow darker than the others, a shadow that flashed past the car windows at Damon’s side. The rest of it was a blur of motion.
There was a sharp, thudding sound and Damon staggered back and spun to one side as though jerked by some unseen hand. There was a clatter of something metallic on the pavement; then a thin, hard voice said, “Stand still, Georgie!”
Murdock heard Damon’s muffled curse. He peered out and saw Damon stiffen with the canvas still under his arm. Jack Fenner stood by the door, a gun in his hand. Then he was picking up the gun he had knocked from Damon’s hand, straightening, speaking to Louise.
“Stay put, beautiful, until I tell you to move!”
Louise remained a sitting statue, making no sound. Murdock pulled himself off the seat and out of the car. He looked at Damon and at Fenner. He had to swallow before he could speak.
“Boy,” he breathed, “am I glad to see you. I wondered if you’d be around to move in.”
“You knew I’d be.”
“I knew if you were around, you’d try. Where were you?”
“Two cars back, waiting for beautiful.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“Neither did Georgie. Good old Fenner,” Fenner said, one eye on Damon. “When he’s hired to tail a dame he’s learned to be ready for anything. Now what gives?”
“Can you get them down to headquarters alone?”
“Are you kidding?” Fenner motioned with the gun. “Get in, Georgie. This is like old times, huh?”
Murdock took the canvas from Damon’s arm. Damon had nothing to say; he was too busy watching the gun in Fenner’s hand. He got in the back seat, moving over in the corner as he had told Murdock to do. Fenner got in beside him and Murdock told the detective what to do with Damon and Louise.
“Oh-oh.” Fenner whistled softly. “Bacon’s office? The lieutenant’s not going to like this, you know.”
“Tell him I
sent you.”
“That I will,” said Fenner, “but he’s not going to like you horsing around by yourself, not if it has anything to do with homicide.”
“Tell him I’ll call him,” Murdock said. “Tell him I’ll be along as soon as I can. I’ll use your car if the key is in it.”
Louise stepped on the starter. Through the lowered window Murdock could hear Fenner say, “Drive nice, beautiful, and I’ll buy you a drink—if the lieutenant doesn’t object.”
The big sedan rolled off. Murdock got into Fenner’s coupé and started down the street. On the corner, under the light, the sailor and his girl friend were still talking.
Chapter Twenty-One
THE ODDS CATCH UP
MURDOCK FOUND A PARKING PLACE diagonally across the street from Roger Carroll’s place. The ground-floor shops were dark now but there was a light on in Carroll’s windows and Murdock sat looking up at them before he got out of the car. He didn’t feel eager and exultant any more. The strain of his day-long wait and the excitement of his recent brush with death brought on a reaction that left him let-down and enervated.
He had stopped at a drugstore on his way down to do some telephoning and he had located Barry Gould at the Courier-Herald and asked him to bring a plate-case down with a camera and some infra-red film. Now, as he waited, a taxi rolled down the street and pulled up in front of the plumbing supply shop. A man got out on the sidewalk. When the taxi moved on the man looked up at the lighted windows, a burly man in a balmacaan—Carl Watrous. He glanced up and down the street, turned, and quickly disappeared in the darkness of the stairs between the plumbing shop and the wholesale paper store.
Murdock got out of the car and crossed the street. At the foot of the stairs, he hesitated again. Something inside him shrank from what he had to do and only when he remembered the maps and what they represented, when he thought of Tony Lorello and the gallant little professor who had been murdered because of them, was he able to face what lay ahead of him. He took a deep hard breath and started up the stairs.
Roger Carroll’s brown hair was tousled and shaggy. He wore the paint-stained slacks and the sweater with the holes in the elbows. “Oh, hello,” he said when he opened the door and saw Murdock standing there. “Come in.”
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