Richard Stark - The Mourner

Menlo looked smilingly at Handy, and then at Parker. “Interesting? Yes. Of course it is. And even more interesting is the question, what has he done with this money? Has he spent it? Hardly. An obscure aide in an obscure embassy? If he were to live beyond his means, it would be noticed at once. Shall he bank it? Considering the political orientation of Klastrava and the passion for voluminous records among bankers, this too seems hardly the answer. Nor can he invest it. He can, in fact, do nothing with it so long as he remains in his present post. He can only secrete it, somewhere in his own house, against the day when he will suddenly disappear. He intends to retire, of course, in some out-of-the-way place. South America perhaps, or Mexico. Or it is entirely possible that he will remain in the United States, in Vermont or Oregon or Nebraska. A man with a hundred thousand dollars can arrange to disappear almost anywhere.”

Handy interrupted. “How do you know for sure it’s in cash, and that it’s in his house? Maybe he’s got it buried out in the country someplace.”

“Ah, wait. I’m coming to that. Please be patient.”

Parker sat up and lit a fresh cigarette. For half of a hundred thousand dollars, he could make himself be patient.

“Now comes my own entry into the story,” Menlo continued. “I am, in a way, a policeman. Not precisely the sort you two have undoubtedly encountered at one time or another in your careers. My occupation has no true counterpart in your country, except unofficially, among the members of some stern-jawed American society or the more belligerent American Legion posts. My duties are, in a way, religious, with an analogy drawn from the Spanish Inquisition. I am an inquisitor, a seeker of heretics, of those whose heresies are against the state. It was felt that a man of my background and unquestioned loyalty would be best suited to the task of punishing Lepas Kapor and of regaining the embezzled funds. It was decided not to trust this delicate task to our espionage organization; news of this impending doom might perhaps somehow reach the ears of our suspect. And so, for the first time in my life, I left my native land — armed with a valid passport and a map to a cache containing one hundred thousand American dollars!”

Menlo threw his head back and laughed, a full booming laugh of delight. “It was wonderful! The opportunity of a lifetime!” Then his laughter subsided and he leaned forward confidentially. “Do you know what my pension would be, were I to live to the retirement age of sixty-seven? In American money, it would be — let me see — approximately five hundred and thirty dollars a year. And yet they expected me to find this hidden cache of one hundred thousand dollars in American money, and bring it back!”

He shook his head. “I am not a fool. My dear friends, you will discover that about me. I am most shockingly overweight, and far too self-indulgent, but you will find that I am not a fool.”

“So you figured to take the money and run?” Handy asked.

“Would you not? Of course. Let me tell you what I did. Laboriously, I managed to contact members of the American underworld. I was then introduced to an organization which calls itself the Outfit. It claims to exert total control over crime within the areas of its control but having met you two, it is only natural that I begin to doubt this claim. Nevertheless, I met with these people, and I discussed the situation with them. It was agreed that they would furnish me assistants and protection from local law-enforcement agencies, and — what do they call that? Protection from local law-enforcement agencies.”

“The fix,” Handy said.

“Yes! The fix is in. That’s what it was. I was delighted with the phrase. The French are so pleased with their criminal argot, but I assure you the Americans in this regard have nothing to be ashamed of. The fix is in.”

“Get on with it,” Parker said.

“You have no interest in your native idiom? A pity. As I was saying, I met with these people, and we came to a financial agreement which of course I had no intention of honoring. And thus the operation was set in motion. We moved most cautiously, I assure you, not wanting to flush our bird prematurely from the nest. What had led to the discovery of Kapor’s ingeniousness in the first place were some small slight indications that he might be planning to make a sudden move, to defect or disappear. There is a large amount of money due to pass through his hands very shortly, and we were convinced he was waiting only for its arrival before making his own departure. Unavoidable delays have kept that money from reaching him thus far, so he still rests upon his perch, awaiting my pleasure.”

“How close were you?” Parker asked.

“We had intended to enter the house this coming Friday. Kapor will be at an official dinner most of the evening, and we intended to be in the house already upon his return.”

Menlo shifted his bulk in the chair and looked with an innocent smile at Parker. “This plan could still be effected,” he went on. “Without the minions of the Outfit, of course. I doubt that they were ever really happy with the operation. They disliked the thought of being connected even indirectly with international politics, but the harvest was too tempting to be missed. Now, because of all the trouble you two caused tonight, they have abandoned the plan completely. Spannick informed me of this with great pleasure tonight, while watching me dig. The Outfit recalled those who had helped me, and recouped its losses by selling to Spannick the information that I had intended in my own turn to steal the money. So the Outfit is no longer concerned with Kapor. Spannick is dead, and if I know that egotistical idiot, he would not have made any report on me until he had already done me in. He always preferred telling his superiors about a problem only after he had already solved it. Which means that Kapor has been left to us.”

Parker studied the fat man’s face. “Us?”

“But of course. You have business of your own with Kapor, though I confess I cannot imagine what it is. In addition, you would no doubt like to share in that hundred thousand dollars. I need assistance, which you can give me. You need to know the location of the money, which I can give you.”

“You know where it is?”

“The exact spot. I must say, it is exceedingly well hidden. I hardly think you could find it without me.”

“How come you know where it is?” Handy asked.

“Clara told me. She had weeks to look for it, and eventually she found it. Poor Clara.”

Menlo smiled again, his ingenuous smile. “I forgot to tell you. I returned to Clara’s apartment tonight, Mr. Parker, after you had left. You had mistreated the poor girl most terribly. The only humane thing I could do was end her misery.”

He beamed.

Parker stubbed his cigarette. “I didn’t ask her enough questions,” he said.

“You are hardly to be blamed. You must have thought of her as only a pawn in our game. How could you know she was the key?”

“So you want to team up with us?”

“It seems most logical, does it not? My information, your experience. And we will, of course, split evenly. Half for me, half for you.”

The fat man wouldn’t be getting any of it, but Parker, for appearance’s sake, made a complaint. “That’s no even split. A third for each of us.”

Menlo spread his hands and smiled. “If you insist. I am not greedy, I assure you.”

So the fat man was planning a double-cross too, Parker thought, and asked, “You still want to do it Friday?”

“That strikes me as the best time, yes. By the way, could you possibly tell me what it is that you two are concerned with in Kapor’s house? That lovely girl mentioned the sum of fifty thousand dollars.”