Paul Cain - The Paul Cain Omnibus

The man with two bags had turned and put his hand on the doorknob. Kells said, “Hey,” and the man turned and stood with his back against the door.

Kells went to the door swiftly and reached past the man and turned the key in the lock and took it out and put it in his pocket. He went back to the table and put down the Luger, scooped the money up and stuffed it into his pockets. He glanced at MacAlmon, indicated the three kitbags with his eyes.

“Now you’ve got it. What are you going to do with it?”

MacAlmon was staring down at Crotti. Borg was watching the man at the door.

Kells said: “We’re off.”

Borg went to the man at the door and patted his pockets, felt under his arms.

They went out through the kitchen, out through the service entrance into the hall. They heard someone pounding at the front door as they went out. They went down the hall, down the back stairs and out a side door to a small patio. At the street side of the patio, Borg stood on a bench and looked over the wall. He shook his head and stepped down and said: “The son of a bitch is gone.”

Kells said: “Maybe we can get through to the next street.”

They went to the other end of the patio and through a gate to a kind of alleyway that led down to Fountain. They went down the alleyway and turned west on Fountain. They went into a drugstore on the corner and Kells drank a Coca-Cola while Borg called a cab.

While they were waiting for the cab, Kells bought some aspirin, swallowed two tablets.

Borg said: “That’s just a habit. That junk don’t do you no good.”

Kells nodded absently.

In a little while the cab came along.

Kells and Granquist and Beery and Borg sat in Kells’ room at the Lancaster.

“Here’s the laugh of the season...” Beery tilted his chair back against the wall. “The apartment at the Miramar was in Fenner’s name. We had the maid service cut out — none of the help ever saw you there...”

Kells finished his drink, put the glass on a table.

Beery went on like a headline: “Fenner is being sought for questioning in connection with the Woodward murder.”

Borg chuckled.

“And, of course, there’s an indictment out for him for Bellmann’s shooting on the strength of the confession they found on Woodward.” Beery tilted his chair forward, reached for his glass. “The Woodward one is now being blurbed as ‘The Through the Window Murder.’”

Kells asked: “Who found the body?”

“Some glass from the window fell down into the driveway and somebody went up to find out who was carrying on.”

Granquist said: “There must be something there they can trace to us.” She didn’t look very happy. She tipped her glass.

Kells glanced at her, grinned at Beery. “Miss Pollyanna G will now recite—”

She interrupted him: “Let’s go, Gerry — please...” She stood up.

Kells said: “Buy us all a drink, baby.”

He spoke to Beery: “Of course they can reach us. Woodward must have had someone standing by to go into the marked money act — I’d swear those bills are marked.” He got up and went towards the desk and said over his shoulder, “They can trace us through Doc Janis — or telephone calls — or something.”

Beery shook his head. “They’ll be tickled to death to hang the whole thing on Fenner.”

“Do you think they’ll be so tickled they’ll drop the case against me entirely?” Granquist turned from the table, came towards them with three tall glasses between her hands.

Kells said: “Shep and I will find out about that in about a half hour.”

“And we’ll find out what happened at MacAlmon’s after you left.” Beery stood up and took his drink from Granquist.

There was a knock at the door.

Granquist froze, with a glass held out towards Borg. Beery opened the door and a porter came in.

He smiled, nodded to Kells. “You want your luggage to go down, sir?”

Kells said: “Yes. The trunk’s to go on the Chief tomorrow night. Put the other stuff where we can load it into a car.”

The porter said: “Yes, sir.” He tilted the trunk and dragged it out through the door. Beery went back and sat down.

Borg had taken his drink from Granquist. He said: “What I want to know is how the hell am I going to get my automobile.”

Kells turned from the desk. “Will you please stop wailing about that wreck of yours?” he said. He held out a singly folded sheaf of bills and Borg reached up and took it.

Kells went back to his chair and sat down. He tossed another sheaf of bills in Beery’s lap.

Beery looked down at it for a moment and then he picked it up and stuck it in his pocket. He said: “Thanks, Gerry.”

Granquist gave Kells a tall glass and he tipped it to his mouth. “Stirrup cup.”

They all drank.

The porter came back into the room, loaded himself down with hand luggage, and went out.

Kells said: “We’re all in a swell spot. The baby here” — he nodded towards Granquist — “is still wanted for Bellmann’s murder — maybe. You, Shep, and I have got to go down and okay our signatures on Fenner’s confession — and maybe they’ll want to talk to me about Woodward, or what happened at MacAlmon’s. And if there’s been any squawk from MacAlmon’s they’ll be looking for Fat.” He grinned at Borg.

Beery took a long envelope out of his inside coat pocket, turned it over several times on his lap. “If this doesn’t square any beef they can figure,” he said, “I’m a watchmaker.”

The porter came back into the room and took up the last of the hand luggage. He said, “Shall I put these things into a cab, sir?” Kells nodded. They all finished their drinks and went out to the elevator, down to the cab stand.

They took two cabs. Kells and Beery got into the first one. Granquist and Borg got into another, and all the hand luggage was put in with them. Kells told the driver of the second cab to keep about a half-block behind them when they stopped downtown.

Then he went back to the other cab and got in with Beery and said: “Police Station.”

Beery signed the affidavit and pushed it across the desk to Kells.

Captain Larson blew his nose. He said: “You understand you both will be witnesses for the state when we get Fenner?”

Kells nodded.

“An’ this Granquist girl — she’s a material witness too.” The captain widened his watery blue eyes at Beery, leaned far back in his swivel chair.

Kells read the affidavit carefully, signed.

Larson said: “What do you know about the Woodward business?”

“Nothing.” Kells put his elbow on the desk, his chin in his hand, stared at Larson expressionlessly. “I lost Fenner’s confession shortly after it was signed — before I could use it. Woodward evidently got hold of it some way and was trying to peddle it back to Fenner.”

“If Fenner was in his place at the Miramar when Woodward was shot, how come he left the confession there?” Larson was looking out the window, spoke as if to himself.

Kells shook his head slowly.

Larson said: “I suppose you know you’re tied up with all this enough for me to hold you.” He said it very quietly, kept looking out the window.

Kells smiled a little, was silent.

Beery leaned across the desk. “Fenner killed Bellmann,” he said. “That’s a swell break for the administration. It’d be even a better break if all the dirt on Bellmann that the Coast Guardian published was proven to be fake — wouldn’t it?”

Larson turned from the window. He took a big handkerchief out of his pocket, blew his nose violently, nodded.

Beery took the long envelope out of his pocket and put it on the desk and shoved it slowly across to Larson.