The Bigger They Come

by Erle Stanley Gardner

  ‘How the hell do I know, dearie? He’s a cop. You can’t tell what a cop will do.’

  Sandra bit her lip and frowned. ‘I’m expecting a young man — a friend of ours — I wonder if they’ll take him into custody=

  ‘Better call him up and head him off,’ I said.

  ‘I think they have my line tapped. I think they’re leaving me here as bait for a trap.’

  ‘What sort of a trap?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Bertha Cool said, ‘Let’s take a look in the bedroom, then we’ll j talk.’

  Sandra Birks opened the bedroom door. A chalked outline on the carpet showed where the body had lain. A section had been sawed from the door, a small square piece cut out of the wood.

  ‘What’s that?’ Bertha Cool wanted to know. ‘Where the bullet was embedded?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are they sure the bullet came from that gun?’

  ‘That’s what they’re going to find out.’

  Bertha Cool said, ‘Where did she get the gun?’

  ‘That’s what I can’t understand. I’m absolutely certain she didn’t have one yesterday morning.’

  Bertha Cool looked at me. Her eyes were steady, thoughtful, and filled with rebuke.

  ‘Where’s your brother?’ she asked.

  Sandra Birks shifted her eyes. ‘I’m sure I don’t know.’

  ‘Where was he when the shooting occurred?’

  ‘In his room, I guess. He was supposed to be there.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Had his bed been slept in?’

  ‘No, he evidently hadn’t retired.’

  ‘Rather late for him to be up, wasn’t it?’ Mrs. Cool asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Sandra said, with a flare of temper. ‘I was out myself. Of course, if I’d known my husband was going to be shot, I might have planned the evening differently. But no one told me; therefore, I didn’t sit by my brother’s bedside to see what time he retired or what his plans were.’

  ‘Anything else?’ Mrs. Cool asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Is there anything else you want to say?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because,’ Bertha Cool said calmly, ‘it’s costing you money to talk to me. If you want to spend your money trying to stand between your brother and the consequences of his act, it’s all right with me. I’ll listen as long as you want to talk, dearie.’

  Sandra had been talking with that swift, vehement articulation which a woman of her type uses when she’s putting on a counter offensive, trying to cover something up. Now her eyes showed puzzled surprise. ‘What do you mean, standing between him and the consequences of his act?’

  Bertha Cool said, ‘You know what I mean, dearie. Your brother murdered your husband,’ and then, as Sandra Birks started to say something, she turned to me and said, ‘Come on, Donald, let’s take a look through the other rooms. I suppose the police have messed things up like. hell, but we’ll look around anyway.’

  She started walking before she was finished talking. Her huge figure moved slowly and majestically through the door, and I followed along behind.

  Sandra Birks was standing in the middle of the floor, her eyes clouded with thought.

  ‘You talked with Bleatie in the other bedroom, Donald?’ Bertha Cool asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Show me where it is.’

  I detoured around her and took the lead. Sandra Birks remained in the bedroom with the twin beds. When I had opened the door to Bleatie’s room, Bertha Cool said, ‘Not that I give a good God damn about what’s in here, Donald, my love, I’m just giving her time to realize the possibilities of the situation.’

  ‘You think she wants to protect Alma Hunter?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course, otherwise why did she want to have us on the job?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ I said, ‘she’s already said too much to the police. They must have asked about her brother.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope it’s nothing she can’t lie out of afterwards,’ Bertha Cool said. ‘She doesn’t impress me as being a particularly wide-open type. She’s secretive and furtive as hell. You ask her what the weather is, and she’ll find some way of avoiding the subject very tactfully, stopping just short of telling you whether it’s raining or sunny, hot or cold-so this is Bleatie’s room. Well, let’s take a look around.’

  Bertha Cool started opening bureau drawers, making a quick mental inventory of the contents, and closing them again. Suddenly she swooped down on the interior of a drawer, and pulled out something bulky. ‘Now then,’ she said, ‘what the hell is this?’

  ‘Looks like a cloth life preserver,’ I said.

  ‘Straps on the back,’ she mused. ‘I have it, Donald. There was something wrong about Bleatie’s figure. Remember that watermelon stomach he had-not watermelon exactly, sort of a cantaloupe stomach?

  ‘Well, Morgan Birks didn’t. Morgan Birks was slender. He had a dimple where his stomach should have been. This was the gadget Morgan Birks put on when he wanted to become Bleatie.’

  I looked it over. That’s what it was, all right.

  Bertha Cool calmly rolled it up and said, ‘See if you can find me a newspaper somewhere, Donald, my love. We’ll just take this God damn thing away with us. It doesn’t need to figure in the case at all.’

  There was no newspaper there in the room. I walked out into the living room and met Sandra Birks coming from the other bedroom. ‘Where’s Mrs. Cool?’ she asked.

  I indicated the bedroom, and Sandra walked on past me. There was a newspaper on the table, lying on top of the pile of magazines. I picked it up, spread it out so it was flat on the table and then waited for a couple of minutes before I walked back to the bedroom and said, ‘I’ll fix it.’

  Bertha Cool and Sandra were facing each other. I heard Mrs. Cool say, ‘Don’t tell me .anything, dearie, until you’ve had a chance to think it all out. You’re all nervous and upset. Keep your trap closed until you’ve thought it out carefully, and then we’ll talk about dough.’

  ‘I’ve thought it out,’ Sandra said.

  Mrs. Cool handed me the cloth padding, and said, ‘Wrap it up, Donald. Tie it good and tight, and then bring it back.’

  I took plenty of time wrapping the bundle. I made a good job of it. I found some string in a drawer in the kitchenette and put in lots of knots. I’d just finished tying it when imperative knuckles banged on the door and a voice said, ‘Open up.’

  I left the package on the table, put my hat over it, and called to Sandra Birks, ‘There’s someone at the door.’

  She walked from Bleatie’s room to the door of the apartment. The man on the outside was pounding on the panels again before she had the door open.

  Two plain-clothes men pushed into the room. One said, ‘Okay, sister, the jig’s up.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

  ‘The gun that killed Morgan Birks was the gun that killed Johnny Meyer, and Johnny Meyer, just in case you don’t know it, was the Kansas City detective who had been working on the organized rackets. He was to go before the grand jury and blow the lid off. He never got there. He was last seen alive with a good-looking frail. He was found the next morning with three slugs in his chest. The K. C. police broadcast photomicrographs of the bullets, and warned all police officers to be on the lookout for the gun.

  ‘Now then, sister, suppose you start talking.’

  Sandra Birks stood very straight, very white, and very frightened.

  Bertha Cool came out from Bleatie’s bedroom. The second plain-clothes man said to Sandra, ‘Who are these people?’

  ‘We’re detectives,’ Bertha Cool said.

  ‘You’re what?’

  ‘Detectives.’

  The man laughed.

  Bertha Cool said, ‘Private detectives, investigating this thing at Mrs. Birks’ request.’

  ‘Get out,’ the officer ordered.

  Bertha Cool
settled herself complacently in a chair. ‘Throw me out,’ she invited.

  I glanced significantly at my hat and the newspaper package on the table. ‘I’ll leave,’ I said.

  Bertha Cool caught my eye as I picked up my hat and the newspaper-wrapped package.

  ‘I’m within my rights,’ she said. ‘If you want to arrest Mrs. Birks, go ahead. If you want to talk with her, go ahead. But I’m here, and I’m going to stay here.’

  ‘You just think you’re going to stay here,’ the officer roared, pushing toward her belligerently.

  Sandra Birks silently held the door open for me. As the two officers converged on Bertha Cool, I slipped out into the corridor. I didn’t dare wait for the elevator. I sprinted for the stairs, and went down them two at a time. I slowed down halfway down the last flight, walked casually across the lobby as though I had a bundle of laundry with me, and gained the sidewalk. The police car was parked in front of the place.

  An attendant was commencing to move automobiles out of the apartment house garage and park them at the curb. I picked a prosperous-looking machine on the theory that the owner would be sleeping late, climbed in and sat down, leaving the package on the seat beside me.

  Bertha Cool came marching majestically out of the apartment house, looked up and down the street, and then started toward the corner. She didn’t see me in the automobile as she walked past. I let her go. After she’d walked another fifty feet I could pick her up in the rear-view mirror of the automobile. Apparently she was puzzled by my complete disappearance. She stopped twice before she got to the corner, looking around inquiringly. At the corner, she turned left. I couldn’t tell whether she had headed for the better-traveled streets, looking for a taxicab, or whether she was still looking for me. I didn’t dare to turn around. I kept slouched in the seat, glancing in the rearview mirror occasionally, but keeping my attention focused on the entrance of the apartment house.

  After a while the two plain-clothes officers came out. Sandra Birks wasn’t with them. They stood for a moment talking. Then they got in the car and drove away.

  I picked up my newspaper package, slid out of the automobile, and walked rapidly toward the apartment house. A big refuse can had been dragged out by the janitor and was placed near the curb. I opened the lid and dropped my package into the can, replaced the lid, and went directly to Sandra Birks’ apartment. She didn’t open the door until I’d knocked twice. She hadn’t been crying, but her eyes were dark and her cheeks seemed to be all caved in. Her mouth looked drawn and hard. She said, ‘You!’

  I slipped in through the door, closed it behind me and snapped the bolt.

  ‘The package,’ she asked. ‘How about it? Did you get rid of it?’

  I nodded.

  She said, ‘You shouldn’t have come back here.’

  ‘I had to talk with you,’ I said.

  She put her hand on my shoulder. ‘Oh, I’m so frightened,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what it means. Do you suppose that Morgan-that Alma—’

  I slipped my arm around her waist and said, ‘Take it easy, Sandra.’

  That arm seemed to be the signal she was waiting for. She insinuated her body up close to mine. Her eyes looked into mine. ‘Donald,’ she said, ‘you must help me.’

  And then she kissed me.

  She may have had other things on her mind. Probably there was plenty to worry her, but it didn’t interfere with that kiss. There was nothing sisterly or platonic about it.

  After a moment she held her head back so she could look into my eyes. ‘Donald,’ she said, ‘I’m depending on you.’ Then before I had a chance to say anything, she said, ‘Oh, Donald, you’re such a dear. It’s such a comfort to me, knowing that I have you to depend on.’

  ‘Hadn’t we,’ I suggested, ‘better get my mind on our work?’

  ‘Oh, Donald, you will help me, won’t you?’

  ‘What do you suppose I came back for?’ I asked.

  She was smoothing my hair back with the tips of her fingers. ‘I feel so much better already,’ she said. ‘I feel that I can trust you, Donald. I’ve felt that way from the first. I’d do anything for you, Donald. There’s something about you that—’

  ‘I want some money,’ I said.

  She stopped. ‘You want what?’

  ‘Money.’

  ‘What do you mean money?’

  ‘Currency,’ I said. ‘Lots of it.’

  ‘Why Donald, I gave Mrs. Cool a retainer.’

  ‘Unfortunately,’ I said, ‘Mrs. Cool hasn’t joined any of the Share-the-Wealth movements— At any rate, not as we go to press.’

  ‘But you’re working for her, aren’t you?’

  ‘I thought you wanted me to work for you,’ I said. ‘Perhaps I misunderstood you.’

  ‘But, Donald, she’s working for me, and you’re working for her.’

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘Have it your own way.’

  She slowly pushed herself back so that the warmth of her body was no longer perceptible through my clothes. ‘Donald,’ she said, ‘I don’t understand you.’

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘I thought perhaps you would. It’s my mistake. I’ll go hunt up Bertha Cool.’

  ‘How much money would you want?’ she asked.

  ‘Lots of it.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘When you hear how much,’ I said, ‘it’s going to knock the props out from under you.’

  ‘But why do you want it?’

  ‘For expenses.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to take the rap,’ I said.

  ‘Donald, tell me what you mean.’

  I said, ‘Bertha Cool’s got funny ideas. She thinks she can use Bleatie as a red herring and blame this on him simply because Bleatie can’t be found. She might have done just that if it had been a simple bedroom killing. The way the cards stack up now, it can’t be done. A Kansas City police officer was killed. You know how cops feel about people who shoot police officers. They don’t like it.’

  ‘What do you mean, you’re going to take the rap, Donald?’ she asked, her eyes shrewd and calculating as she searched my face.

  ‘I mean I’m going the whole hog,’ I said. ‘I’m going to give you both an out. I’m going to say I shot him, but I’ve got to do it in my way.’

  ‘But, Donald, they’ll hang you,’ she said.

  ‘They won’t hang me.’

  ‘But, Donald, you can’t. You wouldn’t be willing to. You couldn’t be–’

  ‘We can either waste time arguing about it,’ I said, ‘or we can do something about it. Those cops didn’t take you into custody because they decided they didn’t have enough on you; and a smart lawyer could get you loose. So they figured they’d give you plenty of rope and see just how you’d go about hanging yourself. They also wanted to see what other fish would get drawn into the net. As soon as they get back and report to police headquarters they’ll have this apartment sewed up so tight not even a cockroach could get out without being picked up and shadowed and classified. Do you want to wait for that?’

  ‘Of course I don’t.’

  ‘I don’t either. I want to get out before that happens. That means just about now.’

  I started for the door. ‘How much do you want, Donald?’

  ‘Three thousand dollars.’

  ‘Three what?’ she cried.

  ‘Thousand,’ I said. ‘Three grand. I want it now.’

  ‘Donald, you talk as though you were crazy.’

  ‘You act as though you were,’ I said. ‘This is your only out. I’m giving it to you. Do you want it, or don’t you?’

  ‘How do I know I can trust you?’ she asked.

  I wiped lipstick off my lips and said, ‘You don’t know.’

  ‘I’ve been betrayed lots of times by men whom I’ve trusted.’

  ‘How much did Morgan leave in those safety deposit boxes?’ I asked.

  ‘He didn’t have any.’

  ‘They were in your nam
e. It won’t be long until the police sew those up too.’

  She laughed then, and said, ‘Do I look as though I was born yesterday?’

  ‘I suppose,’ I observed, ‘you went out and stripped the boxes, and thought you were being smart. By the time the prosecuting attorney gets finished with that, it’ll make a swell motive for murder.’

  I could see startled realization in her eyes.

  ‘And if you happen to have that money on you,’ I said, ‘you’re just crazy, because every move you make from now on is going to be shadowed. Sooner or later the police are going to take you down to jail and a great big broad-hipped matron is going to take all your nice clothes off and search your pretty little body. While that’s going on, detectives will be searching the apartment. What do you think of that?’

  ‘Donald, they wouldn’t!’

  ‘They’re going to.’

  She said, ‘It’s in a money belt on me.’

  ‘How much?’ I asked.

  ‘Lots.’

  I said, ‘You don’t dare to ditch it all, Sandra. You’d better leave some money, a hundred or two, in the money belt so they won’t realize you’ve slipped one over on them. As far as the rest is concerned, you can do either one of two things. You can either trust it to me, knowing that I may go south with it; or you can split it up in a lot of letters, address those letters to yourself at general delivery, and drop them in the mail chute. You’d better do something quick.’

  It took her about five seconds to make up her mind. During those five seconds she stood staring at me, her head slightly on one side. I stood still. She looked at me and I met her look. Then she unsnapped buttons at the side of her skirt, slipped it down and fumbled with buckles-it wasn’t exactly a money belt. It was a money corset. She handed it to me. I couldn’t get it around me. I loosened my belt, shoved it down along my back, and pinched my belt tight.

  ‘God knows why I’m doing this,’ she said. ‘I’m putting myself absolutely in your power. I’m stripping myself of everything.’

  I said, ‘Just one thing— Give Alma a square deal and I’ll give you a square deal. I’m doing this for her.’

  ‘Not for me?’ she asked, pushing out her lips in a little pout.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘For Alma.’

  ‘Oh, Donald, I thought it was because you—’