“Did you know these fellows—the Fantini brothers?”
“No, they left the circus just about the time I joined.”
“But you probably heard some talk about them. Wasn’t one of them crippled in a fall?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
Staring at the poster, Nick asked Herbie one more question—but he was already sure what the answer would be.
In the morning he dressed quickly and retrieved the poster from its hiding place in the closet. He was just opening the door of his room when Judy Benson stepped off the elevator.
“Not so fast, Mr. Nicholas. Back inside!”
He was about to ignore her command when he saw the .22 automatic come out of her purse. “What is this?”
“Back inside,” she repeated.
“How did you find me?”
“I checked the license of your rented car and found it was assigned to the rental agency at this hotel. Then I just asked at the desk for Mr. Nicholas’ room.”
“What do you want? And what’s the gun for?”
“I came for the poster you stole from my grandfather.”
“He gave it to me. Didn’t he tell you?”
“You tricked him, claiming to be the son of an old circus friend. He’s an old man, Mr. Nicholas, and very gullible. Someone came to him in clown makeup, so he believed what he was told. But now you’re dealing with me, and I have a gun.”
“Are you really a snake charmer?” Nick asked. “You don’t look like one.”
“I’ve been around carnivals all my life, and I know a con man when I see one. My snakes may have failed to stop you, but I won’t!” She raised the gun in a threatening gesture.
“All right. But you should know what you’re getting into.”
“Meaning?”
“This poster is part of a swindle to obtain a ten-million-dollar inheritance. Let me show you.” He started to unroll the poster.
“No tricks now!”
“No tricks.” He held up the poster for her to see. “Notice the illustration of the acrobats. The Flying Fantini Brothers. There are five of them, and this poster will be the main item of proof to establish one Anthony Fantini as the rightful claimant to the Fantini oil fortune. But do you notice anything peculiar about these acrobats?”
Before she could answer there was a knock on the door. Judy Benson slipped the gun into her oversized purse as Nick opened the door a crack. The door was shoved back into his face as the beefy-cheeked Jimmy forced his way in. He wore the same rumpled suit, but now he carried a heavy automatic in his hand. The lawyer Haskin Kimbell was right behind him.
“Come in,” Nick said, hiding his surprise and rubbing his cheek where the door had hit him. “It’s good to see you both again, and especially to see that you’ve decided to skip the clown makeup this time, Mr. Kimbell.”
“We came for the poster,” Kimbell said. “When Jimmy saw the girl come up here, he thought you were double-crossing us.”
“Not a chance. The poster is all yours, as soon as I collect the rest of my fee.” He was careful not to look at Judy Benson.
“All right,” Kimbell agreed, but the gun was steady in Jimmy’s beefy hand. Then, almost as an afterthought, the lawyer asked, “How’d you know I was Mason?”
“When I went to his hotel room Tuesday night I caught you as you were leaving. You pretended to be knocking on the door, looking for Mason yourself, but you didn’t fool me. Mason had a briefcase in his room with the initials JKS on it. They weren’t the initials of a person, but of your law firm—Jeans, Kimbell and Sachs. But your clown makeup did give me the idea of how to steal the poster from Herbie, so I have to thank you for that.”
“I’m taking back that poster,” Judy Benson said suddenly, her hand reappearing with the gun. “You’re all a bunch of crooks!”
Jimmy swung around quickly and hit her arm, sending her pistol flying across the room. The familiar smile was on his face as he pushed her onto the bed. “Stay there or you’ll get hurt.”
Haskin Kimbell looked distressed. “Give me the poster, Velvet.”
“I was about to show Miss Benson something peculiar about it,” Nick said. He didn’t like to see girls pushed around, and just then he wasn’t feeling too kindly toward Kimbell and his goon. “In fact, there’s been something peculiar about this whole business.”
“What’s that?” the lawyer asked.
“Three questions: Why did you go to the trouble of creating a mythical middleman in clown makeup rather than simply hire me yourself to get the poster? Why have it stolen in the first place when you could have asked Herbie Benson to lend it to you for the court hearing? And finally, why not simply have Herbie testify as to the number of Fantini brothers?”
“All right, why?”
“Because this poster is deceiving. Because there never was a fifth Fantini. Because your claimant to the fortune is an impostor, carefully coached by you, Kimbell. I asked Herbie last night how many brothers there were and he told me four—as I knew he would. The records you found listed three or four brothers—but never five. Only this poster showed five brothers, and that’s why you couldn’t have Herbie in court where someone could ask him about it. You had to steal the poster, and you created Mason to do it so that if the truth came out you’d be in the clear.”
“You mean the poster is a fake?” Judy asked from the bed.
“No, it’s real enough. But in the style of many such posters it duplicated performers to give the impression of a great number. Notice the Teddy Roosevelt mustache on this man in the foreground and the man up here. The two men look alike, yet there were no Fantini twins—you told me yourself they were born one or two years apart, Kimbell. These two look alike because they’re the same man, shown in two different poses, once alone and once with his brothers.”
“Could he prove the existence of a fifth brother merely with this poster as evidence?” Judy asked.
“Maybe, maybe not. But for ten million dollars it was worth a try. Right, Kimbell?”
“It’s still worth a try,” the lawyer said. “But now we have to get rid of you two. Jimmy—”
“There’s another gun in my purse,” Judy shouted to Nick.
At first her words baffled him. The oversized purse was on the floor almost at Jimmy’s feet. There was no way Nick could reach it first.
“Hold it!” Jimmy said, leveling his gun at Nick. He kicked over the purse, spilling its contents across the floor, and bent to inspect a drawstring pouch. “It’s a snake!” he yelled, his voice close to a high-pitched scream.
That was when Nick moved.
Later, when he was alone with Judy, Nick said, “You really are a snake charmer.”
“That was just a little ground snake, but it scared him enough for you to get hold of his gun.”
“And the rest of my fee from Kimbell.” He handed her the poster. “You can take this back to your grandfather now. I think Kimbell’s decided to forget all about his scheme.”
“What kind of thief does that make you, returning the loot?”
“A good thief,” he said. “Don’t you think I should get a reward?”
“I think so,” she agreed with a grin. “Have you ever been kissed by a snake charmer?”
The Theft of Nick Velvet
“IT’S FOR YOU, NICKY,” Gloria yelled from the telephone, and Nick Velvet put down the beer he’d been savoring. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon in late winter, when the snow had retreated to little lumps beneath the shady bushes and a certain freshness was already apparent in the air. It was a time of year that Nick especially liked, and he was sorry to have his reverie broken.
“Yes?” he spoke into the phone, after taking it from Gloria’s hand.
“Nick Velvet?” The voice was deep and a bit harsh, but that didn’t surprise him. He’d been hearing that sort of voice on telephones for years.
“Speaking.”
“You do jobs. You steal things.” A statement, not a question.
�
�I never discuss my business on the telephone. I could meet you somewhere tomorrow.”
“It has to be tonight.”
“Very well, tonight.”
“I’ll be in the parking lot at the Cross-Country Mall. Eight o’clock.”
“How will I know your car?”
“The place is empty on a Sunday night. We’ll find each other.”
“Could I have your name?”
The voice hesitated, then replied. “Solar. Max Solar. Didn’t you receive my letter?”
“No,” Nick answered. “Your letter about what?”
“I’ll see you at eight.”
The line went dead and Nick hung up the phone. He’d heard the name Max Solar before, or seen it in the newspapers, but he couldn’t remember in what context.
“Who was that, Nicky?” Gloria appeared in the doorway, holding a beer.
“A land developer. He wants to see me tonight.”
“On Sunday?”
Nick nodded. “He needs my opinion on some land he’s buying near here. I shouldn’t be gone more than an hour.” The excuses and evasions came easily to Nick’s lips, and sometimes he half suspected that Gloria knew them for what they were. Certainly she rarely questioned his sudden absences, even for days at a time.
He left the house a little after 7:30 and drove the five miles to the Cross-County Mall in less than fifteen minutes. There was little traffic and when he reached the Mall ahead of schedule he was surprised to see a single car already parked there, near the drive-in bank. He drove up beside it and parked. A man in the front seat nodded and motioned to him.
Nick left his car and opened the door of the other vehicle. “You’re early,” the man said.
“Better than late. Are you Max Solar?”
“Yes. Get in.”
Nick slid into the front seat and closed the door. The man next to him was bulky in a tweed topcoat, and he seemed nervous.
“What do you want stolen?” Nick asked. “I don’t touch money or jewelry or anything of value, and my fee is—”
He never finished. There was a movement behind him, in the back seat, and something hit him across the side of the head. That was the last Nick knew for some time.
When he opened his eyes he realized he was lying on a bed somewhere. The ceiling was crisscrossed with cracks and there was a cobweb visible in one corner. He thought about that, knowing Gloria’s trim housekeeping would never allow such a thing, and realized he was not at home. His head ached and his body was uncomfortably stretched. He tried to turn over and discovered that his left wrist was handcuffed to a brass bedstead.
Not the police.
But who, then? And why?
He tried to focus his mind. It seemed to be morning, with light seeping through the blind over the window. But morning of which day? Monday?
A door opened somewhere and he heard footsteps crossing the floor. A face appeared over him, a familiar face. The man in the car.
“Where am I?” Nick mumbled through a furry mouth. “What am I doing here?”
The man leaned closer to the bed. “You are here because I have stolen you.” The idea seemed to amuse him and he chuckled.
“Why?” The room was beginning to swim before Nick’s eyes.
“Don’t try to talk. We have no intention of harming you. Just lie still and relax.”
“What’s the matter with me?”
“A mild sedative. Just something to keep you under control.”
Nick tried to speak again, but the words would not come. He closed his eyes and slept.
When he awakened it was night again, or nearly so. A shaded lamp glowed dimly in one corner of the room. “Are you awake?” a girl’s voice asked, in response to his movement.
Nick lifted his head and saw a young brunette dressed in a dark turtleneck sweater and jeans. He ran his tongue over dry lips and finally found his voice. “I guess so. Who are you?”
“You can call me Terry. I’m supposed to be watching you, but it’s more fun if you’re awake. I didn’t give you the last injection of sedative because I want someone to talk to.”
“Thanks a lot,” Nick said, trying to work the cobwebs from his throat. “What day is it?”
“Only Monday. You haven’t even been here twenty-four hours yet.” She came over and sat by the bed. “Hungry?”
He realized suddenly that he was. “Starving. I guess you haven’t fed me.”
“I’ll get you some juice and a doughnut.”
“Where’s the other one—the man?”
“Away somewhere,” she answered vaguely. She left the room and reappeared soon carrying a glass of orange juice and a bag of doughnuts. “Afraid that’s the best I can do.”
“How about unlocking me?”
“No. I don’t have the key. You can eat with your other hand.”
The juice tasted good going down, and even the soggy doughnuts were welcome. “Why did you kidnap me?” he asked Terry. “What are you going to do with me?”
“Don’t know.” She retreated from the room, perhaps deciding she’d talked too much already.
Nick finished three doughnuts and then lay back on the bed. He’d been lured to that parking lot and kidnaped for some reason, and he couldn’t believe the motive was anything as simple as ransom. The man on the telephone had identified himself as Max Solar, and asked if Nick had received his letter. Since kidnapers rarely gave their right names to victims, it was likely the man was not Max Solar.
“Terry,” he shouted. “Terry, come here!”
She appeared at the doorway, hands on hips. “What is it?”
“Come talk. I feel like talking.”
“What about?”
“Max Solar. The man who brought me here.”
She giggled a bit, and her face glowed with youth. “He’s not Max Solar. He was just kidding you. Do you really think someone as wealthy as Max Solar would go around kidnaping people?”
“Then what is his name?”
“I can’t tell you. He wouldn’t like it.”
“How’d you get involved with him?”
“I can’t talk any more about it.”
Nick sighed. “I thought you wanted someone to talk to.”
“Sure, but I wanted to talk about you.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “What about me?”
“You’re Nick Velvet. You’re famous.”
“Only in certain circles.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the opening of a door. Terry scurried from the room and Nick lay back and closed his eyes. After a moment he heard Terry return with the man.
“What in hell is this bag of doughnuts doing on the bed?” a male voice demanded. “He’s conscious, isn’t he? And you’ve been feeding him!”
“He was hungry, Sam.”
There was the splat of palm hitting cheek, and Terry let out a cry. Nick opened his eyes. “Suppose you try that on me, Sam.”
The man from the car, still looking bulky even without his tweed topcoat, turned toward the bed. “You’re in no position to make like a knight in shining armor, Velvet.”
Nick sat up as best he could with his handcuffed wrist. “Look, I’ve been slugged on the head, kidnaped, drugged, and handcuffed to this bed. Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?”
“Shut him up,” Sam ordered Terry, but she made no move to reply.
“You kidnaped me to keep me from seeing the real Max Solar, right?” Nick was guessing, but it had to be a reasonably good guess. The man named Sam turned on the girl once more.
“Did you tell him that?”
“No, Sam, honest! I didn’t tell him a thing!”
The bulky man grunted. “All right, Velvet, it’s true. I don’t mind telling you, since you’ve guessed it already. Max Solar wrote you on Friday to arrange an appointment for this week. He wanted to hire you to steal something.”
“And you kidnaped me to prevent it?”
The man named Sam nodded. He pulled up a straight-backed wooden cha
ir and sat down by the bed. “Do you know who Max Solar is?”
“I’ve heard the name.” Nick tried to sit up straighter, but the handcuff prevented him. “How about unlocking this thing?”
“Not a chance.”
“All right,” Nick sighed. “Tell me about Max Solar.”
“He’s a conglomerate. He owns a number of companies manufacturing everything from office machines to toothpaste. Last year while I was in his employ I invented a computer program that saved thousands of man-hours each year in bookkeeping and inventory control on his export and overseas operations. The courts have ruled that such computer programming cannot be patented, and I was at the mercy of Max Solar. He simply fired me and kept my program. For the past year I’ve dreamed of ways to get my revenge, and on Friday Terry supplied me with the perfect weapon.”
Nick listened to the voice drone on, wondering where it was all leading. The man did not seem the type to resort to kidnaping, yet there was a hardness in his eyes that hinted at a steely determination.
“I’m a secretary at Solar Industries,” Terry explained. “My office is right next to Max Solar’s, and often I help his secretary when my boss is away.”
Sam nodded. “Solar dictated a letter to Nick Velvet, asking for a meeting today. Terry brought me a copy, with a suggestion for avenging myself on Solar.”
“You knew who I was?” Nick asked the girl.
“I had a boyfriend once who told me about you—how you steal valueless things for people.”
Sam nodded. “I figured up in the suburbs you probably wouldn’t get Solar’s letter till Monday—not the way mail deliveries are these days—but just to be safe I used his name when I phoned yesterday. See, I had to kidnap you and hold you prisoner till after the ship sails.”
“Ship?”
“Solar was hiring you to steal something from a freighter that sails from New York harbor in two days.”
“It must be something important.”
“It is, but only to Max Solar. It would be worthless to anyone else.”
Nick thought about it. “That’s not quite correct,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
Thefts of Nick Velvet Page 16
