Curtis Cluff - Black Mask Magazine (Vol. 31, No. 1 — January, 1948)

“You got the odds right but on the wrong side. It’s three to two against us. Kent was running a bluff.”

Malo darted a quick look at Ruiz, whether for confirmation of my statement or for instructions I didn’t know.

“I don’t get it,” said Chun without taking his eyes off Ruiz.

I tried to relax my tense muscles. “Ruiz and Malo are both rodded. Why didn’t they cut Kent down as soon as he plugged Jocko?” I took a step backward. “There seem to be three guns pointing at us.”

Chun looked around slowly into the barrels of three guns.

I said: “These two boys officially worked for Vecelli but they ran dope for Kent and took orders from him. Vecelli didn’t know that.” I turned to Kent. “That was a dumb play of yours — giving yourself away.”

Kent grinned. “On the contrary, there was a possibility you wouldn’t spot the contradiction in which way the guns pointed. But you would never have been suspicious if you hadn’t already discovered other evidence. I seem to be in the driver’s seat, Lieutenant. Do you still want to shoot it out?”

“So it’s you,” Chun glowered. “We can take at least two of you with us.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be sufficient,” Kent said. “We most certainly will take both of you. Take their guns, Ruiz.” Ruiz slid behind us while we stood there like dopes, and the game was up. We handed over our guns.

“Now,” Kent said, “I don’t want you to have any false hopes. From the number of shots outside, I would say that you left one policeman on guard. I assure you that he has been taken care of.”

“How do you think you’re going to take care of all of us?” I inquired.

“Simple.” Kent grinned slyly. “You and the lieutenant will die from each other’s guns and in the melee Norris and MacDonald will crash through the front window to the rocks below. It’s a bit melodramatic but when you remember that I and my friends will be the only surviving witnesses, it ought not to be hard to put over.”

I stared at the guy. He didn’t seem to be a bit nuts. I said: “Since you’re crazy enough to think you can get away with that, maybe you’re crazy enough to answer a question that’s been bothering me.”

“What is it?”

“How did you get mixed up in this racket anyway?”

“Accident.” Kent smiled. “Purely by accident. One day while walking on the beach, I discovered that old boathouse and explored it. I came across the cache of heroin. It had apparently been smuggled into the Islands before the war and of course, December 7th put an end to dope traffic from the Orient to the Mainland. I don’t know what happened to the original owners. Perhaps they were interned at the outbreak, perhaps they were killed. At any rate, I set my two servants on watch and when nobody showed up within a reasonable time I took over. I found the man I needed to distribute it in Ruiz, who was working for Vecelli. I might mention that Ruiz didn’t know where the cache was located. No one knew that but me and my two Chinese boys. Also, I knew nothing of the identity of Ruiz’s clients. That was his responsibility. And he hired his own assistants. Kahalawai was one such assistant and this chap, Malo, helps him at present.”

I said: “Ruiz and Kahalawai planted the dope and the money in my cottage and you telephoned me. Right?”

“Of course, and from Allan Norris’ house.” Kent grinned. “So you see the ‘dope ring’ you spoke of actually consists of me, my two servants and these two. Amusing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I said. “About as amusing as Anne Seccombe’s death.”

Kent’s face clouded. “That was one of the unfortunate weaknesses of our system. I would certainly never have permitted her to get the habit through any action of mine.”

“You sentenced her to death.”

“Unfortunate,” Kent said coldly. “There was nothing else to do. I went to her apartment after you left this afternoon and stupidly tried to warn her by telling her that you, a private detective, had discovered her habit. She became despondent and decided to expose Ruiz to the authorities before going to a sanitarium. Then she decided to go to you instead. I couldn’t dissuade her. Naturally, she had to be stopped.”

“Like your ex-wife had to be stopped,” I said.

Kent looked tired. “Jennifer discovered the truth some time ago. She was loyal and kept her mouth shut. If she had been sent to a sanitarium I wouldn’t have worried. But when Norris sent for you and continued to hold her incommunicado at home, I was afraid she would crack. I was not happy about it.”

“Very hard on you,” I sneered.

Kent came to life. “All right, Ruiz, let’s get it over. Mr. Ford may have the honor of dying first. Use the lieutenant’s gun.”

Ruiz put the other guns on the desk, moved to the center of the room with Chun’s revolver. In the shadow of a moment that followed I wondered inanely if my secretary back in L.A. would have trouble finding another job. Ruiz’s hand tightened on the trigger and my eyes closed instinctively. A gun roared and my ears rang, but I didn’t feel any pain. I opened my eyes in surprise.

Ruiz wheeled in the center of the room clutching his arm. Slowly the gun dropped from his hand. Every face in that room wore a look of surprise — except Malo’s. As Ruiz whimpered and sank to his knees Malo grinned. “Morebetter we do it this way.”

Kent started to rise. “You fool!”

“Sit down, Mister Kent.”

But Kent continued to rise and that was the last I saw of him for a moment. Ruiz scrambled for the gun on the floor and Chun and I dove for it at the same moment. Mrs. Ford’s little boy, Johnny, came up with the gun in time to see Kent whirl and fire at Malo. Malo went down on one knee and put another shot where it would do the most good, in Kent’s arm. Kent dropped his gun, cast a wild look around the room and raced toward Norris and MacDonald who were rooted to the floor near the window. I tried a wing shot, caught Kent in the thigh. His leg buckled but he kept going. I threw another shot and Kent’s other leg buckled. But it was too late. Norris made a halfhearted attempt to grab him as his body pitched forward and crashed through the window. There was no sound after the smashing of the glass. Just silence.

Suddenly the front door banged open and a Chinese raced in. “Everything O.K.?” He stopped, surprised. “Where’s Mr. Kent?”

“Quick! Where’s other fella?” Malo shouted.

“Damn cop got him,” the Chinese said. “I winged the cop. What am I supposed to—?” Suddenly an awful suspicion crossed his face and his gun came up. Malo and I cut him down at the same moment.

Malo turned to the rest of us. “And that ends that,” he said, without a trace of pidgin.

The clock in my cottage living room said three A.M. and I was on my fourth drink and couldn’t even feel it. I was still wound up. Maile Sherrod sat across from me doing very well on her third drink.

“... That about winds it up,” I said. “This big lug wasn’t Hawaiian at all but Samoan. The Federal Narcotics Bureau needed an undercover man and they wanted somebody with a Polynesian background who was unknown. So they borrowed Harry Malo from the Samoan police. Malo had found out that the Hobron Club was a distribution point and had gotten a job there as dishwasher. He got on to Kahalawai and Ruiz, and he thought Vecelli was the boss but he didn’t have any evidence to prove it. He spent six months working his way into Ruiz’s good graces and when Kahalawai went out of the picture Ruiz took him on.”

“But he was with Ruiz when Anne was killed.”

“There wasn’t anything he could do about it. He didn’t know what was up until they spotted Anne at my door and Ruiz had fired. Malo had to string along. He did make it easier for me though. Twice he stopped Ruiz from working my skull over and he cut the ropes that allowed me to escape from Vecelli. He did everything he could do without giving himself away.”