Paul Cain - The Paul Cain Omnibus

“Who was that?” Ruth Perry inclined her head slightly towards the door.

Kells put his elbows on the table and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “None of your business, darling,” he said. He looked up at her and smiled. “Now keep your pants on. I stand to make a ten or fifteen thousand dollar lick tonight, and that one—” he gestured with his head toward the door — “is a very important part of the play.”

Ruth Perry didn’t say anything. She leaned back and looked at the ceiling and laughed a little bit.

Presently she said, “What are you going to do about Dave?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I’m not going to go on that stand and lay myself open to a perjury rap.”

Kells shook his head. “You won’t have to, baby. The trial won’t come up for a month or so and we can spring Dave before that” — he smiled with his mouth — “if you want to.”

They were silent a little while.

Then Kells said: “I’ve got to go now — call you around twelve.”

He got up and went out into the rain. He walked up to the corner of Vine and Hollywood Boulevard and went into the drugstore and bought some aspirin. He took two five-grain tablets and then went out and crossed the Boulevard and walked up Vine Street about a hundred yards. Then he crossed the street and walked back down to the parking station next to the Post Office. He stood on the sidewalk watching people across the street for a little while, then went swiftly back through the parking station and down the ramp to the garage under the Manhattan Hotel.

He got out of the elevator on the tenth floor and knocked at the door of ten-sixteen. Fenner opened the door.

Fenner said: “Well, Mister Kells — you didn’t catch your train.” He smiled and bowed Kells in.

They sat in the big living room and Fenner poured drinks. He poured three drinks and leaned back and said, “Where’s the little lady?”

“She’ll be up in a few minutes.”

Someone came out of the bathroom and through the bedroom. Fenner got up and introduced a dark medium-sized man that came in. “This is Mister Jeffers — God’s gift to Womanhood... Mister Kells.”

Kells stood up and shook hands with Jeffers. He was a motion picture star who had had a brief and spectacular career; had been on the way out for nearly a year. He was drunk. He said: “It is a great pleasure to meet a real gunman, Mister Kells.”

Kells glanced at Fenner and Fenner shook his head slightly, smiled apologetically. Kells sat down and sipped his whiskey.

Jeffers said: “I’m going up and get Lola.” He took up his glass and went unsteadily out of the room, through the small hallway, out the outer door.

“You mustn’t mind Jeffers.”

Kells said: “Sure.” Then he leaned back in his chair and stared vacantly at Fenner. “Have you got twenty-five grand in cash?”

Fenner looked at him very intently. Then he smiled slowly and shook his head. “No,” he said. “Why?”

“Can you get it — tonight?”

“Well — possibly. I—”

Kells interrupted him, spoke rapidly. “I’ve talked to the lady. She’s got enough on Bellmann to run him out of politics — out of the state, by God! You’re getting first crack at it because I have a hunch he isn’t sitting so pretty financially. It’s the keys to the city for you — it’s in black and white — an’ it’s a bargain.”

“You seem to have a more than casual interest in this...”

Kells nodded. “Uh-huh,” he said, smiled. “I’m the fiscal agent.”

Fenner stood up and walked up and down the room, his hands clasped behind him, a lecture platform expression on his face.

“You forget, Mister Kells, that the Common People — the voters — are not fully informed of Bellmann’s connections, his power in the present administration.”

“That’s what your Coast Guardian’s for.”

Fenner stopped in front of Kells. “Just what form does this, uh — incriminating information take?” Kells shook his head slowly. “You’ll have to take my word for that,” he said. He leaned forward and put his empty glass on the table.

The doorbell rang. Fenner went out into the hall, followed Granquist back into the room. Kells got up and introduced her to Fenner, and Fenner took her coat into the bedroom and then came back and poured drinks for all of them.

“Mister Kells has raised the ante to twenty-five thousand,” he said. He smiled boyishly at Granquist.

She took her drink and sat down. She raised the glass to her mouth. “Hey, hey.”

They all drank.

Granquist took a sack of Durham, papers out of her bag, rolled a cigarette.

Fenner said: “Of course I can’t enter into a proposition involving so much money without knowing definitely what I’m getting.”

“You put twenty-five thousand dollars in cash on the line and you get enough to put the election on ice.” Kells got up and went over to one of the windows. He turned and went on very earnestly: “And it’s a hell of a long ways from that now.”

Fenner pursed his lips, smiled a little. “Well — now...”

“And it’s got to be done tonight. ”

Granquist got up and put her empty glass on the table.

Fenner said: “Help yourself, help yourself.”

She filled the two glasses on the table with whiskey and ice and White Rock. She said: “Do you let strangers use your bathroom?”

Fenner took her through the hallway to the bedroom and turned on the light in the bath. He came back and sat down and picked up the telephone, asked for Mister Dillon. When the connection was made, he said: “I want you to bring up the yellow sealed envelope that’s in the safe... Yes, please — and bring it yourself.” He hung up and turned to Kells. “All right,” he said. “I’ll play with you.”

Kells sat down and crossed his legs. He studied the glistening toe of his left shoe, said: “It’s going to sound like a fairy tale.” He looked up at Fenner. “Bellmann’s a very smart guy. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be where he is.”

Fenner nodded impatiently.

Kells said: “The smarter they are, the sappier the frame they’ll go for. Bellmann spent weekend before last at Jack Rose’s cabin at Big Bear.” He leaned forward and took his glass from the table. “Rose has been trying to get a feeler to him for a long time, has tried to reach him through his own friends. A few weeks ago Rose took a big place on the lake, not far from Bellmann’s, invited Hugg and MacAlmon — Mac is very close to Bellmann — up for the fishing, or what have you. They all dropped in on Bellmann in a spirit of neighborliness, and he decided that he’d been wrong about Rose all these years. Next day he returned the call. When Hugg and Mac came back to the city, they left Rose and Bellmann like that” — he held up two slim fingers pressed close together.

Granquist came in, sat down.

Kells turned his head in her direction. Without letting his eyes focus directly on her, he said: “That’s where baby comes in.”

Fenner lighted a cigarette, coughed out smoke.

“She came out with friends of Rose from K.C.,” Kells went on. “Bellmann met her at Rose’s and took her big. That was Rose’s cue. He threw a party — one of those intimate, quiet little affairs — Rose and a showgirl, Bellmann and” — he smiled faintly at Granquist — “this one. They all got stiff — I don’t mean drunk, I mean stiff. And what do you suppose happened?”

Kells paused, grinned happily at Fenner. “Miss Granquist had her little camera along, took a lot of snapshots.” He turned his grin towards Granquist. “Miss Dipsomania Granquist stayed sober enough to snap her little camera.”

Fenner got up and took Granquist’s empty glass, filled it. He looked very serious.