A. Fair - Shills Can't Cash Chips

“Why?” he asked.

“Because,” I said, “I wanted to smoke the thing out in the open. I felt that if I made an affidavit that I’d seen the accident, that would start putting on pressure. You see, someone had been advertising for witnesses to that accident, offering first one hundred dollars and then boosting the ante to two hundred and fifty.”

“Holgate, in desperation, trying to buy a perjured witness?” he asked.

“That was my theory at first,” I said, “but after I made the affidavit I was satisfied that it was someone who was trying to cover up for Holgate.”

“Who would cover up for him?” he asked.

“Two people,” I said. “One of them, his partner, and the other one, Vivian Deshler.”

“His partner. You mean Chris Maxton?”

“That’s right.”

“And you think he might have?”

“There’s evidence indicating he did. He paid me two hundred and fifty dollars when I convinced him that I’d been a witness to the accident.”

Dale sat at his desk and thought things over. “You’re rather unconventional and rather daring, Lam,” he said. “You’ve stuck your neck into a lot of nooses trying to help a client.”

“If my theory of what happened is right, my head will come out of the noose,” I said.

“And if it isn’t?”

“I’ll get my damned neck broken,” I told him.

“You sure will,” he told me, and got up and went to a filing case. He pulled out a manila envelope, took it over to his desk and started pulling out papers.

“Hell, yes,” he said, “the Holgate accident was reported, but our traffic department didn’t look into it.”

“Why?”

“Repairs were made in a garage in Los Angeles and the investigation was made over the telephone. The garage reported that it was a Buick automobile all right, but that the damages to the car were all accounted for, that both cars were in there being appraised by representatives of the Consolidated Interinsurance Company, and that all details of the accident had been verified, and the insurance company had admitted liability and ordered the cars fixed up.”

“The detailed injuries were not described?”

“Sure, they were described,” he said. “The whole front of the Buick car was caved in. Both headlights were smashed. All of the grill was gone.”

I said, “If you want to keep anyone from identifying a hole in a garment, all you have to do is to take a pair of scissors and make the hole bigger. All Holgate had to do was to take a hammer and add to the injuries.”

Dale said, “Lam, you fascinate the hell out of me. I’m not going to buy this wild-eyed theory of yours, but I’m sure as hell going to investigate it, and man, oh, man, how I hope you’re right!”

I said, “You know there’s a cover-up going on. When do you start investigating?”

“When do I start investigating?” he said. “Right now.”

He dialed the phone again and said, “Sorry, honey, but I’m not going to be home. No, this is important. I can’t tell you about it on the phone and... I’m sorry, you’re just going to have to make apologies to the guests. They know that I’m on call twenty-four hours a day and this is one of those things... Atta girl, I knew you’d co-operate... You carry on and do the best you can.”

He hung up the phone and said, “What’s first?”

I said, “Chris Maxton. He’s the one who put the ad in the paper offering two hundred and fifty dollars reward.”

“Well, what’s wrong with that? He was trying to help Holgate out.”

I said, “Why help Holgate out?”

“Because Holgate was his partner.”

I said, “What do you mean, help? Holgate had admitted liability to the insurance company. The insurance company had admitted liability to Vivian Deshler. Any witness to the accident could only have testified that it was Holgate’s fault. So why the hell would he be helping Holgate out getting a witness?

“The only reason he could help Holgate out with a witness was because he knew the accident was phoney and he was willing to offer a big enough bribe to get some person to perjure himself—”

“Let’s go,” Dale interrupted.

“Do you know where to find Chris Maxton?”

“Sure I do. He has an apartment here in town.”

“Married?”

“Man about town,” Dale said. “He plays around a bit, has some pretty good-looking babes on the string.”

“Including Vivian Deshler?”

“Hell, I don’t know,” Dale said. “I’ve never cared enough to find out, but I’m going to make it my business to know now. Come on, Lam, let’s go.”

We got in the chief’s automobile.

The chief drove conservatively for about three blocks. I could see that he was thinking over my theory. The more he thought it over, the better he liked it.

At the end of three blocks he put on the red light. At the end of five blocks he turned on the siren.

Chief Dale was in a hurry.

We got to a rather swanky apartment house, and the chief parked his car in front of a fireplug, said, “Come on, Lam.”

We went up in an elevator, and the chief pushed the mother-of-pearl button.

Chimes sounded on the inside.

Chris Maxton came to the door. He didn’t see me for a moment but saw the chief.

“Why, hello, Chief,” he said.

“I want to talk with you,” Dale said.

Maxton was flustered. “I... I’m not alone... I—”

“I want to talk with you,” Dale said.

“I... I have a young woman here. I—”

“I want to talk with you.”

“Look,” Maxton said, “give me just ten seconds to get her...”

Dale started in.

“Go in the bedroom, honey,” Maxton called over his shoulder.

He said, “It’s quite all right, Chief, but— What the hell, who’s this with you?”

“Donald Lam,” Dale said. “Do you know him?”

“Do I know him? The two-time chiseling, dirty crook! Why didn’t you say this had to do with the case against Donald Lam? I’d do anything to nail that two-timing—”

“Take it easy,” Dale said, pushing his way into the room. “You just answer questions.”

“Well, I’m making a complaint. I’m having Donald Lam arrested for obtaining money under false pretenses and—”

“Save it, Chris,” the chief said. “You just answer questions. What the hell’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” Chris said. “Oh, just a little sociable party.”

The chief looked around. There was a bottle of whiskey, some ice cubes, a couple of bottles of mixer, two empty glasses, a couple of women’s shoes on the floor, a bra hanging over the back of a chair and a skirt rumpled into a corner.

Maxton said, “I’d just shut off the hi-fi when I heard the chimes.”

“No, you didn’t,” Dale said, walking over to the window and looking out. “You shut off the hi-fi when you heard the siren. What the hell kind of a joint you running here?”

“Now, take it easy, Chief, take it easy,” Maxton said.

I realized that the chief was getting him in the proper frame of mind, putting him sufficiently on the defensive so he’d spill everything he knew. It was a good job.

The chief went over to the corner, picked up the girl’s skirt and looked at it. He walked over to the bra, looked at that, turned to the davenport, walked over and picked up a square box that had just been unwrapped. The wrapping paper was there on the floor.

The chief reached into the box, pulled out a pair of silk panties. There was lettering all over the silk.

“What the hell are these?” Dale asked.

Maxton said, “I sent away for them. They were advertised in one of the men’s magazines as the ideal gift for the one girl friend.”

“I see,” Dale said, “and you’d just talked the young lady into trying them on to see what they looked like?”