D. Champion - Black Mask Magazine (Vol. 30, No. 2 — July 1947)

I phoned Capelli, gave him Sackler’s message, then decided to go down and deliver Woolley’s message personally. That would give me the chance to inform him that Sackler was holding Freuh’s dough.

I grabbed a bus and went down to police headquarters.

Woolley greeted me glumly. Apparently he hadn’t made much headway in the matter of Arthur Freuh’s murder. He brightened up considerably when I gave him Sackler’s message.

“Has he really got something?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “He hasn’t confided in me. He has, however, got something to which he isn’t entitled.”

Woolley looked inquiring.

I took a deep breath and told him of Freuh’s concern with the quotation, of the fee which was to be held in escrow as it were, and of the fact of Sackler’s not earning it.

“Therefore,” I concluded righteously, “I believe that hundred dollars should go to Freuh’s heirs, not Sackler.”

Woolley’s eyes were gleaming. “You say it was a hundred dollar bill?”

He emphasized the last three words.

“It was a hundred dollar bill, all right.”

“But I thought Rex said he banked the money Freuh gave him?”

“He may have banked the thousand. But I know the hundred is in an envelope in his pocket right now.”

Woolley bent his head devoutly and murmured: “Praise be to Heaven.”

I stared at him in some surprise. Woolley was not a devout man.

“Why the piety?”

“At last,” said Woolley happily, “Mr. Rex Sackler is delivered into my hands. But don’t tell him. First I want to know what he’s got on this case. After I have learned that I shall pounce. The indignities of years shall be avenged. Joey, I love you. If you ever need a drink badly, come to me and I shall buy it for you. Now, go away and leave me alone while I gloat.”

I had not the faintest idea what he was talking about. I left his office and stopped off for another drink. I felt pretty good myself. Though Woolley’s attitude had baffled me somewhat I was certain that he wasn’t going to let Sackler keep that hundred bucks.

I had a leisurely lunch and killed time until almost one o’clock. Then I took the subway and went back to the office. I had barely removed my hat when Capelli walked in the door. Sackler greeted him effusively.

Capelli nodded, said anxiously: “Did you find out where Freuh lived?”

“Simplicity itself,” said Sackler.

“Good. Did you bring me his things?”

Sackler shook his head. “I saw no sense in packing up his personal effects. I only brought what you wanted.”

Capelli blinked. “How did you know what I wanted?”

Sackler looked smug and tapped the side of his head in a manner calculated to call attention to the great Sackler brain. Then he opened the desk drawer and withdrew the oblong package I had seen him bring in that morning.

Capelli snatched at it like a hawk at a chicken. He did not open it in the orthodox manner. Instead he tore away a fragment of the paper and peered inside. I peered, too. I made out that the article wrapped up seemed to be an oblong of metal. But I didn’t see enough of it to know what it was.

Capelli sighed happily and beamed at Sackler. “You’re a genius,” he said. “And you’ve earned two grand.”

He took a checkbook from his pocket and wrote rapidly. He handed the check to Sackler, who took it, caressed it, and stowed it away in his one-way wallet.

Capelli said: “Do you mind telling me how you did it?”

“Elementary,” said Sackler. “I just looked around the room until I found it.”

“That I can understand,” said Capelli. “But how did you find the address?”

“Oh, that,” said Sackler in his best deprecatory manner. “That was simple. Knowing what I did, Joey could have done it. As a matter of fact, Joey had the same information that I had. And I’m sure he knows how I did it. Joey.”

He waved in my direction. I had not the slightest idea how he had found Freuh’s address, nor the faintest conception of how he had gone about getting it. He knew this very well. All this act was calculated to prove me a fool and Sackler a genius. I was very happy I had sold him down the river to Woolley.

“Go ahead, big shot,” I said. “Tell the class how you did it.”

“The day Freuh called here,” said Sackler, “he said two things. First, that he had come downtown on the west side subway. Second, he started to give us his address, then thought better of it. But before that second thought came to him, he said. ‘Twenty-four,’ then stopped. Do you see, Joey?”

I saw nothing and said so.

Sackler went on. “Moreover, when Freuh said ‘twenty-four’ he began to mention another number. Thus the number was not merely twenty-four. Now could it have been two-hundred-and-forty-something? If so, he would have said ‘two-forty’ and not ‘twenty-four’. Therefore, the number he almost mentioned was twenty-four hundred or twenty-four hundred and something. And he came down on the west side subway.

“Now, assuming he lived in Manhattan which is better than an even money guess, there isn’t a cross street on the island whose numbers run as high as twenty-four hundred. That leaves only the avenues. Now, what avenue has numbers that high which is contiguous to the west side subway? Obviously, Broadway. Moreover, Broadway that far uptown contains a number of cheap rooming houses, and Freuh, if I had figured him correctly, lived in a rooming house.”

By this time I saw it. “So you went to all the twenty-four hundreds on Broadway and asked for a roomer who hadn’t been home for a couple of nights?”

“Right. And by means of some little judicious lying I obtained access to his room and procured the item Mr. Capelli considered worth two thousand dollars.”

Capelli looked impressed. He took a silver cigarette case from his pocket and held it out to Sackler. Sackler’s free wheeling hand moved automatically. Then he checked it and looked with sad inquiry at me. I shook my head emphatically. Sackler sighed and refused the free smoke. I took one and Capelli put the case down on the edge of the desk.

“Well,” said Capelli, “I guess that just about winds up our business. I guess I’ll run along.”

“Wait,” said Sackler. “Wait a minute or two. I want you to meet a couple of friends of mine. They’ll be here shortly.”

Capelli looked mildly suspicious but he nodded his head. “All right. In the meantime is there a men’s room on this floor?”

I gave him the necessary directions. He went out of the room leaving the torn brown package and his cigarette case on Sackler’s desk.

I glanced at Sackler. Despite the fact that his nicotine-conditioned body was crying for tobacco he looked happy. That caused me no wonder. He’d picked up a cold three grand in the last few days.

“Well,” I said aloud, “you won’t get that hundred.”

“What hundred, Joey?”

“The hundred Freuh gave you on condition you tracked down the author of that quotation.”

“What gives you the impression I won’t keep it, Joey?”

“Because I told Woolley you had it and he’s going to take it from you.”

He looked at me in sheer horror. When he found his voice he said in shaken accents: “You really did that? You really betrayed me, your employer and friend, to a professional copper?”

“I really did.”

He murmured, “My God,” three times dramatically. His face was white and I had never seen him so shaken. But then I had never seen him lose a hundred dollars before either.

His hand reached out toward Capelli’s cigarette case. I held my breath. He was so upset about the money it seemed he had completely forgotten about not smoking. His fingers took a cigarette from the case and he took a match from his pocket.