James Chase - Figure It Out for Yourself

‘Has he anything to do with the kidnapping?’

‘I don’t know. His girl, who ought to know, says he hasn’t. It looks like a frame to me. Brandon couldn’t know the gun was the death gun by just looking at it. He either brought it with him and planted it or he’s guessing.’

‘You can’t say a thing like that!’ Francon’s voice was shocked.

‘Off the record I can. It would be a terrific boost for Brandon if he could crack this case and steal a march on the Feds. I wouldn’t put anything past him.’

‘Who is Perelli, anyway?’

‘He’s a card-sharper with a record.’

‘That doesn’t help. What’s he to you?’

‘He did me a good turn once. As a personal favour, Justin, I want you to get down there right away and stop them working on him.’

There was a long pause on the line while he chewed it over. I didn’t hurry him.

Finally, he said, ‘I’m not sure I want this job. Brandon must have something more solid to work on than the gun.’

‘Maybe he has, but that isn’t the point. You’re not going to let him hang something on this guy just because he’s got a record, are you?’

Well, no. All right, Vic. I’ll go over there and see him. But I warn you, if I think he’s guilty, I’m pulling out. There’s too much publicity tied to this business to be in on the losing end.’

‘I still think it could be a frame. Take a look at him, anyway. And don’t worry too much about what they’ve got on him. I’m going to take a hand in this, Justin.’

‘Well, all right. I’ll see what I can do. Better see me tomorrow morning at my office.’

‘I’ll ring you tonight.’

I hung up before he could protest.

Myra was watching me, an intent expression in her eyes.

‘Who’s that?’

‘Justin Francon. The smartest criminal lawyer on the Pacific Coast If he believes Perelli is being framed, he’ll never stop fighting until he’s freed him.’

‘Is he going down there?’

‘You bet he is, and he’ll block Brandon off.’

She lit another cigarette. Her hand was noticeably unsteady.

‘I guess Nick knew what he was doing when he told me to come to you.’

From her that would be praise.

I finished my drink and stood up. ‘Where can I reach you?’

‘245 Monte Verde Avenue. It’s a little green-painted shack on the left-hand side as you go up. I live alone.’

While I was writing the address down, she went on, ‘This will take some money, won’t it?’

‘I told Perelli I’d be glad to help him any time, and it’d be on the house. That still goes.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Forget it. I owe him a stab in the belly. Now look. I’m going down to Police Headquarters right away. There’s not much I can do until I find out just how much they have on him. I might even have a word with him if I’m lucky.’

‘You mean they’ll let you talk to him?’

‘I don’t know. The Homicide Lieutenant is a friend of mine. He might swing it.’

Just for a second the hardness went out of her eyes, and the red-painted mouth trembled.

‘Give him my love,’ she said.

The news of Perelli’s arrest had broken by the time I reached Princes Street and Centre Avenue.

I couldn’t get within five hundred yards of Police Headquarters. As I tried to take the turn a raving, purple-faced cop waved me back into Centre Avenue. Three other cops were barring the way to other cars.

I managed to catch a glimpse of a seething crowd that over-flowed the sidewalks of Princes Street into the road before I drove on down to Orchid Boulevard.

I parked the car and walked back.

There was a big crowd of people standing before Police Headquarters, and it was growing every second. No amount of swearing and pushing from the sweat-soaked patrolmen made any impression on them. They had come to gape, and no cursing cop was going to stop them.

A bunch of Brandon’s special tough squad stood in the door-way of the building with their nightsticks drawn. I knew I had about as much chance of getting past them as a nudist has of gate-crashing the White House: probably less.

I fought my way into a near-by drug-store. It was empty except for a white-coated night clerk who stood in the doorway wistfully watching the crowd.

‘I just wanted to ‘phone,’ I said as he reluctantly tore himself away and moved back into the store.

‘Some excitement,’ he said, licking his lips. They say Brandon’s grabbed the kidnapper. Think he’ll get the twenty-five grand? Jeepers! I wish it was me. I could use that amount of dough.’

I made grunting noises and shut myself in a call-box. I asked the operator to connect me with Police Headquarters.

‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘Every line’s jammed. I’ve been trying to get them for the past twenty minutes. What goes on down there?’

‘Some cop’s cleaned his buttons, and the whole force’s gone on strike,’ I said sourly and hung up.

I came out into the quiet and cool of the store again. The clerk was standing on a stool so that he could see over the heads of the crowd. By now they were jammed up against his windows. It looked as if I’d have trouble in getting out.

‘The Feds have arrived,’ he told me, sucking in his breath excitedly. ‘But this has wiped their eyes. That guy Brandon’s a smart cop. Best Captain of Police we’ve ever had.’

‘How do I get out of here?’ I said impatiently after trying to shove through a bunch of backs facing me in the doorway.

‘You don’t want to get out, do you? Grab a stool. You won’t get a better view than here.’

‘View of what?’

He frowned down at me.

‘Maybe they’ll bring him out. Maybe that Dedrick dame will come down to look him over. Anything can happen. I wish my girl was here. She’d love this.’

‘Is there a back way out of here?’

‘Through that door.Takes you into Orchid Boulevard.’

As I jerked open the door, the crowd lurched back. There came a tremendous crash of breaking glass as one of the plate-glass windows of the store gave up the unequal struggle.

I didn’t wait to see what the damage was. A passage at the back of the store brought me to a dark alley that led eventually to Orchid Boulevard.

Mifflin had a small house on Westwood Avenue. He lived with his wife, two children, a Boxer dog, two white cats and a bullfinch. Apart from his police duties, he was a highly domes- ticated man, and rumour had it he was even more scared of his wife than he was of Brandon.

I decided to go out there and wait for him. I was determined to see him tonight, come rain, come sunshine, so I drove out there and parked before his front door.

The time was twenty minutes past ten. I had no idea when he went off duty, but with the rumpus going on at Head quarters he was pretty certain to be late.

I settled down with a cigarette and prepared for a long wait. There was a light showing in one of the lower rooms of the house, and from time to time I saw a woman’s shadow on the blind. Around quarter to eleven the light went out, and then a light flashed up in one of the upper rooms. After a while that went out in its turn, and the house was dark.

I closed my eyes and tried not to think about Perelli. I didn’t want to get any false ideas until I knew more facts. Franco was probably right when he said Brandon would have more than the gun on Perelli. It was my bet someone had tipped the police: someone with an eye on the twenty-five grand; a temp- tation to anyone to manufacture a few lies if he could.

A car came grinding up the hill. A few seconds later head-lights came through the windshield to dazzle me, and a car came to a standstill.

I poked my head hopefully out of the window. It was Mifflin all right. He was looking out of his window, a scowl on his face.