“One from the purse of Miss Duval and one from the purse of Miss Karnes,” she reported, handing both guns to the inspector.
CHAPTER SIX
ED FRIDAY EXAMINED the sleek Evelyn with an expression of exasperation on his face. She looked back at him defensively.
“Just why were you lugging a gun around?” Friday asked.
“I’ll handle the questions!” Day snapped at him. To Fausta he said, “Which gun is whose?”
“They are initialed,” Fausta said.
Examining them, the inspector discovered each had tiny gold initials engraved on the ivory grips. Standing next to him, I could see that one gun bore the initials “B.D.” and the other “E.K.” They seemed to be about twenty-five-caliber guns, which was interesting inasmuch as the shell casing Hannegan and I had found outside was that caliber.
One at a time Day drew back the slides, released the clips and peered down the barrels, sticking his thumb into the ejector slots so that his nail acted as a reflector.
“Neither fired,” he commented. “You ladies got permits for these things?”
“I didn’t buy mine,” Bubbles said. “It was a gift.” Her tone seemed to indicate she assumed this relieved her of the necessity of having a permit.
“So was mine,” Evelyn chimed in.
The inspector handed both guns to Hannegan. “Both of you be at headquarters at nine in the morning,” he grimly instructed the women. “If the D.A. wants to overlook charging you with carrying concealed weapons, you can have them back after they’re registered. But not to carry around in your purses any more. To keep in a drawer at home. Understand?”
Both women nodded agreeably and favored him with brilliant smiles. Neither seemed in the least disturbed insofar as the inspector was concerned, though Evelyn impressed me as being a trifle apprehensive about her escort’s reaction. The inspector himself seemed more upset than either woman. Flushing at the overpowering smiles being directed at him, he doggedly continued his questioning.
“Where’d you get your gun?” he asked Bubbles. “From Walter. Before he died, of course.”
Looking past the girl at a forty-five-degree angle, he asked, “How long before he died?”
“About a week. No … two weeks. For my twenty-first birthday.”
Day neglected to inquire why Walter Ford picked such an odd birthday present, possibly because he feared he might get another upsetting answer. Instead he asked Evelyn Karnes to explain where she got her gun.
“From Walter also,” she said. “A little over a month ago. For my …” She paused, looked thoughtful for a moment and went on, “For my twenty-fifth birthday.”
The red-haired Madeline announced, “I’ve got one at home too, Inspector. Walter gave it to me for my birthday five months back. Why, I don’t know. It struck me as a peculiar sort of present.”
Barney Amhurst emitted a cynical laugh. “Not if you knew Walter.”
When the inspector stared at him inquiringly, Amhurst went on, “All they cost Ford was the engraving. He was purchasing agent for Maxim Electrical Products before he came in with us. He had dozens of contacts with supply-house salesmen, and to keep on his good side they slipped him presents now and then. Usually stuff they obtained at cost from other customers, I imagine, but some of the presents were quite valuable. They were also frequently impractical, but I guess Walt operated on the principle that you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, because I never heard him mention turning anything down. I happen to know this particular present consisted of a dozen ivory-handled, twenty-five-caliber automatics.
Walt hadn’t a use in the world for them, but they’re quite costly retail and made something of an impression as gifts. So he doled them out to people he wanted to impress. Women mostly, I think. At least he never gave me one, and I had a birthday awhile back.”
Ed Friday said in a brittle voice to Evelyn Karnes, “Ford have some reason for wanting to impress you, baby?”
When she looked at him, for the first time her lacquered exterior seemed to crack, and a trace of fear showed through. “Of course not, honey. I barely knew him.”
“I don’t recall your mentioning him giving you a birthday present. I suppose you kept it to protect the present I gave you.” Crossing to her, he took her hand and jerked the diamond bracelet from her wrist. In a brutal voice he said, “Now that you haven’t got a gun to protect it with, I better take care of this.”
Her eyes were stricken as the bracelet. disappeared into Friday’s pocket.
Warren Day broke the uncomfortable silence which followed. “I want all you people to stay available until I tell you otherwise,” he said brusquely. Then he turned to Hannegan. “Let’s go see this Tom Henry fellow.”
As soon as the inspector and the lieutenant had departed, Madeline Strong said, “Mr. Moon, Fausta tells me you’re a private detective.”
I noticed Friday glanced at her sharply. “Yes,” I admitted. “If … if it proves necessary, would you handle an investigation for me?”
“What kind of investigation?”
“I … I’m not even sure it will be necessary. Could I call you tomorrow?”
“Sure,” I said. “My. number’s in the book.”
The group began to break up then. Amhurst phoned for two taxis, one for himself to take Madeline home in, and the other for Friday and Evelyn. Bubbles seemed to take it for granted I was going to take her home and attached herself to me and Fausta.
As I left with the two women, I noticed Ed Friday was deep in frowning conversation with Madeline. He looked up to call good-bye, and I was surprised to note an estimating expression in his eyes when they touched me, as though he were judging the ability of a potential opponent.
When we reached Bubbles’s address, I thought it wise not to offer to accompany her to the door, and with equal wiseness Bubbles gave no indication that she expected this courtesy. The moment I pulled the car to a stop she had the door open and was out on the sidewalk.
“Thank you, Mr. Moon,” she said primly. “And I’m glad I met you, Miss Moreni.”
I’ll bet, I thought, but all I said was that she was welcome.
On the way to El Patio I studiously avoided Bubbles as a conversational subject and Fausta mentioned her only once.
“Miss Duval is a very attractive girl,” she said reflectively. “She has the prettiest blonde hair I have ever seen on a brunette.”
Though it was only shortly after midnight when we readied El Patio, by the time we had a nightcap at the bar and Fausta had spread a little more good will by chatting with half the customers in the cocktail lounge, it was one o’clock and closing time. And it was nearly one-thirty by the time I got home.
As no garage comes with my apartment, I keep my Plymouth in a public garage half a block away. When on foot I neared the walk leading to the front door of the apartment house, I noticed a taxi parked directly in front. I glanced at it casually, then halted when a voice hailed me from the rear seat.
“Oh, Mr. Moon!”
As I walked over to the cab, the rear door opened and two men climbed out. One was Ed Friday and the other was his bodyguard, Max.
“We’ve been waiting for you some time,” Friday said in a pleasant voice. “Could I come in and talk to you for a minute?”
“Come ahead,” I said. “I guess one more nightcap won’t kill me.
Friday instructed the cab to wait, and both he and Max followed me up the walk, up the half flight of stairs to my flat and into my front room.
“Have a couple of chairs,” I said, and went on into the kitchen for ice cubes.
When I returned with a bowl of ice, I found my guests had made themselves at home in a couple of easy chairs. I mixed Friday a bourbon and water, then looked at Max Furtell inquiringly.
“He doesn’t drink on duty,” Friday said.
I made myself a rye and water.
“Well, Mr. Friday, what’s the important business that won’t wait until morning?” I inquired when
I was seated.
“I’d like to engage you professionally, Mr. Moon,” he said. “I’d have brought up the subject earlier this evening, but I didn’t realize you were a private investigator until just as you were leaving Amhurst’s.”
Noncommittally I said, “I see.”
“I had another man lined up for the job,” he went on. “But about six this evening he backed out on me. By then all the other private investigators’ offices were closed and I thought I was going to have to wait until morning to get a replacement. And morning is too late.”
“You mean you want me to start on some job tonight?”
“No, no, Mr. Moon. I merely want your commitment. I have to phone Mexico City at six A.M. and let them know I have an agent on the way or the whole deal falls through. But you wouldn’t actually have to leave until noon tomorrow.” He glanced at his watch and amended, “Or rather noon today.”
“You want me to go to Mexico City?”
“Yes. I’m willing to pay a thousand dollars plus expenses, and the job won’t require more than ten days. But first I’d better explain just what the job involves.”
I looked at him expressionlessly for a moment. Then I said, “Don’t strain your imagination, Mr. Friday. I’m sure you’ve thought up a nice convincing reason to send me to Mexico City, but I’m also sure that with your organization you could snap your fingers and any one of a hundred capable men would jump to do whatever needed doing down there. You don’t have to hire an investigator whose record you haven’t even had time to check. Let’s cut through all the preliminaries and get to the real point. For some reason you’d like me out of town for ten days and are willing to pay me to leave. Right?”
It was his turn to examine me expressionlessly. Finally his heavy face broke into a rueful grin. “You’re more intelligent than I thought, Mr. Moon. Also a good deal blunter. I’ll be just as blunt. Does a ten-day vacation with all expenses paid, plus a hundred dollars a day, appeal to you?”
“Naturally. But I’d have to know why.”
Slowly he shook his head. “We aren’t going to be that blunt.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “The first time you looked at me with any particular interest tonight was when Madeline Strong asked if I weren’t a private detective and suggested she might want to engage my services. As soon afterward as you could find me, you want me to leave town. The logical deduction is that you want to make sure I don’t go to work for Miss Strong. Why?”
Friday’s face had turned expressionless again. “I don’t plan to discuss any reasons with you, Mr. Moon. It’s a simple take-it-or-leave-it proposition.” “I’ll leave it,” I said.
“Suppose we make the amount two thousand?”
I shook my head. “Sorry. When you reach a million I might begin to waver, but for anything short of that, it wouldn’t be worth it to me to go around with an unsatisfied curiosity. Up till now I wasn’t particularly curious to hear what Miss Strong had to say, but now I can hardly wait until morning.”
Friday finished his drink and set down his glass. “There are other methods I have found effective in bringing men around to my point of view, Mr. Moon.”
I said flatly, “Is that a threat, you two-bit punk?”
Max Furtell was on his feet before I finished speaking. With a remarkably fast bound for so big a man he was across the room and had jerked me to my feet by the shirt front.
I suspect all he intended was to pull my nose within an inch of his and advise me to speak more respectfully to his boss. But I have an aversion to being jerked around, even by men who outweigh me sixty pounds. I came erect without resistance, but I didn’t stop my forward motion where Max wanted me to.
Instead I smashed my left elbow into his jaw and, when he released his hold on my shirt front, followed up with my right elbow.
Max took three involuntary steps backward, stopped and blinked his eyes. Anyone with less than a cast-iron jaw would have fallen flat on his face after those blows, but all they did to Max was make him look momentarily dazed. He started back at me.
“Max!” Ed Friday said in a sharp voice.
The big man halted instantly, but continued to glower at me.
“This is ridiculous,” Friday said in a ponderous tone. “I didn’t bring you here to beat Mr. Moon up, Max. Apologize for attacking him.”
Without changing expression Max said tonelessly, “I’m sorry I touched the punk.”
To me Friday said, “I can see this visit was a mistake, Mr. Moon. Shall we forget it took place?”
And motioning his bodyguard to follow, he walked out without even awaiting an answer.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE MORNING AFTER Friday’s visit I got up at my normal rising hour of noon, showered, shaved and was diving into a plate of eggs and sausage when the door buzzer sounded. When I opened the door, I discovered my caller was Madeline Strong.
“Well!” I greeted her enthusiastically. “Nothing sharpens my appetite like a beautiful redhead across the breakfast table. Come in and have some sausage and eggs.”
“You will be looking at a blonde across the breakfast table while the redhead sits in a corner,” a firm voice said from beyond my range of vision. Then Fausta stepped into sight from where she had been standing to one side of the door.
In spite of her threat to make Madeline sit in a corner, Fausta allowed her a place at the breakfast table. Discreetly the girl chose one side, leaving the spot across from me to Fausta. Neither accepted my offer of sausage and eggs, Fausta rather condescendingly informing me they had breakfasted four hours ago, but they did take coffee while I finished my breakfast.
When I was finished, Fausta said, “This is a business call, Manny. Madeline wants you to work for her.”
“On something connected with last night?” I asked.
Fausta looked at Madeline and the redhead said, “I didn’t know what to do or who to turn to, Mr. Moon. I suppose I shouldn’t have dragged Fausta into this. I guess I should have come alone. I phoned Fausta this morning because she’s always been so … well, understanding. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered her. I really only know her from dining at El Patio, but there wasn’t anyone else I could turn to for moral support. You see, my parents are both dead, and since my brother Lloyd was killed last November …"
“Whoa!” I cut in, realizing from the increasing rapidity with which she spoke that she was wound as tight as a watch spring, and unless I cut her off, she was going to take just as long as a watch to run down. “Fausta has the run of this place. She pops in and out whenever the mood strikes her. Let’s leave out the explanation of why she’s with you and get on to your problem. What do you want me to do?”
She took a deep breath. “Get Tom out of jail.”
“Tom!
“Tom Henry. The fellow whose pipe was found on the lawn. They arrested him for Walter’s murder.” “I see,” I said. “Did he do it?”
Madeline’s eyes flashed. “Of course he didn’t do it. Tom wouldn’t shoot anyone.”
“Then you don’t need me,” I said. “Contrary to popular belief, the police hardly ever frame innocent people. If he’s innocent, they’ll turn him loose.”
“You don’t understand, Mr. Moon. They found the gun that killed Walter in Tom’s workshop.”
“Oh.” I looked at her curiously. “Then what makes you think he didn’t do the shooting?”
Fausta answered for her. “She is in love with the boy, my thickheaded Romeo. And women in love have faith. They are not fickle like men, who will throw a woman to the dogs at the first whisper of suspicion.”
“All right,” I said to Madeline. “You’re in love with him, so naturally he is innocent. Tell me the details.”
It developed that there were no details beyond what she had already told me. Apparently Warren Day had arrested the boy the previous night; and this morning when he was allowed his one five-minute phone call, he had called Madeline instead of a lawyer. It seemed to me that in five minutes he could hav
e gotten across more information than the bare facts that the police had located the murder gun in his workshop and he was in jail, but after reflection I realized that a young couple in love might easily spend most of the five minutes assuring each other of their mutual love before getting down to less important business such as murder. Then I thought of something else.
“If you and this Tom Henry are so much in love, how did you happen to be with Barney Amhurst last night?”
She looked at me in surprise. “That was a special celebration. Normally Tom would have been along too, but you heard what Barney said last night about the disagreement he had with Tom. Tom doesn’t hold any hard feelings against Barney, but under the circumstances he hardly felt like joining in celebrating the success of an invention which made obsolete the work he had been doing himself. I invited him, but he declined and he knew I was going with Barney. Besides, Barney is such an old friend of the family, it was almost like being out with my brother.”
“What do you want me to do?” I asked. “Make an independent investigation of the murder?”
“I want you to prove Tom didn’t do it.”
I shook my head at her. “No, ma’am. I don’t take cases on that basis. If you want me to investigate the facts, fine. But any evidence I uncover bearing on the killing goes to the police, no matter where it points. If your Tom actually killed Ford, I not only won’t undertake to prove he didn’t, I’ll do my best to prove he did. If you decide to hire me, that is.”
Madeline said, “You couldn’t possibly prove he did it, because he didn’t. He told me so over the phone.”
While the girl dubiously thought over the wisdom of employing an investigator who promised to help convict instead of absolve her sweetheart if he actually proved to be guilty, Fausta said in a firm voice, “Of course you want him to take the case, Madeline. Manny will find out the truth in no time at all. He is a very smart man.” She looked at me from narrowed eyes and added, “Except about women.”
Give the Girl a Gun Page 4
