Paul Cain - Fast One

“You’ll have to duck while he’s here, baby,” he said. “He’s the undercover legal representative for the Bellmann administration and you’re still number one suspect for Bellmann’s shooting — you’ll have to lay low till we hang it on Fenner and make it stick.”

She nodded.

After a little while someone knocked at the door; Borg got up and let Beery in. Beery threw his hat on a chair, stared with bright, surprised eyes at Granquist, said: “Well — it’s a small world.”

She smiled. “Coffee?”

Beery nodded and Granquist went out into the kitchen.

Kells said: “Fenner went out to see Crotti yesterday.”

Beery sat down, smiled down his nose.

“Now we don’t have to worry about kicking any of our crowd in the tail,” Kells went on, “because we haven’t got any.”

Beery raised his brows, said: “Crowd?”

“Uh huh — crowd.”

Beery glanced around the room, back to Kells. “Since this joint was Fenner’s suggestion,” he said, “wouldn’t it be a swell time to move?”

Kells shook his head slowly. “What for? Any of ’em can find me if they want me — and they’ll all be wanting to before long. This is as good a spot as any...”

Granquist came in with coffee and toast on a small tray, Beery stood up, bowed, took the tray and sat down.

Kells said: “I’m going to turn on the heat — Shep — only this time I’m going to make it pay. It’s been for fun up to now — now it’s for dough.”

Borg was playing solitaire at the table. He looked up, said, “Hooray,” dryly.

“The lady” — Kells inclined his head toward Granquist — “picked up all the stuff I lost at Crotti’s. Fenner thinks Crotti’s got his confession, but I’ve got it — and Fenner’s going to find out about that. So is Woodward, who ought to be willing to give his eye teeth — and the mayor’s eye teeth — for it. He’s on his way up here now.”

Beery lighted a cigarette.

“They can both buy it,” Kells went on, “and for plenty.”

He turned to Borg. “See if you can get Hanline at the Knickerbocker.”

Borg picked up the phone, dialed a number. After a moment he got up and handed the phone to Kells.

Kells said: “Hello — Hanline?... Tell that boss of yours that I’ve got the stuff he’s dealing with Crotti about. Tell him that in the next two hours I’m going to sell it to the best offer. He’ll know what I mean... Tell him that the bidding starts at fifty grand, and that he’d better be damned quick...”

Kells hung up, grinned at Beery. “Now watch things happen,” he said.

Beery was looking at Granquist. “Where does Miss G get off if you peddle Fenner’s confession back to him? It’s the one thing that leaves her in the clear.”

Kells moved his grin to Granquist. “We’ve figured that out,” he said.

The house-phone rang: Borg answered it, said, “Send him up,” hung up. He said, “Faber,” over his shoulder, went to the door.

Granquist looked questioningly at Kells. Kells shook his head. “Borg’s running mate — I’ll give you twelve guesses where I’m going to send him.”

Faber came in, said hello to Kells and Beery, half nodded to Granquist, sat down. Kells said: “Drink?”

“Sure.”

Kells looked at Granquist and she got up and went into the kitchen, came back with a bottle and a glass and handed them to Faber. He poured himself a drink.

Kells said: “Fenner isn’t your boss any longer — how do you like that?”

Faber glanced at Borg, tipped the glass to his mouth, took it down when it was empty, said: “I like that fine.”

“I want you to go to the Villa Dora out on Harper” — Kells looked up at Borg — “your car’s still here, isn’t it?” Borg said: “Yeah.”

“Take the car,” Kells went on, “and hang on the front of that place until you see three big pigskin keesters go in and find out which apartment they go to. I don’t know who’ll have ’em, but there’ll be three — and they’ll probably come up in a closed Chrysler.”

Faber said: “Uh huh.” He picked up the bottle and poured himself another drink. He looked at Beery, then at the rest of them quickly. “Anybody else?”

Beery nodded; Granquist went out and got another glass.

Kells said: “Call here pronto — but I mean pronto. Spot a phone and call here the minute you connect. We’ll be over right away and pick you up.”

Faber nodded, drank. He put down his glass and stood up. “Villa Dora — that’s below Sunset Boulevard, isn’t it?”

Beery said: “Yes — between Sunset and Fountain.”

Kells was looking out the window. “They’ll probably come in between two this afternoon and nine tonight. You’d better get something to eat before you go out.”

Faber said: “Okay.” He put on his hat and said, “So long,” and went out.

Beery smiled at Kells. “Are you going mysterious on me?”

“Those three cases are full of cocaine” — Kells was looking at Granquist — “according to my steer. A hundred and fifteen thousand dollars’ worth — and there’s a hundred and fifteen thousand dollars in cash waiting for them some place in the Villa Dora. It’s Crotti’s stuff and I have a hunch Max Hesse is on the buying end. I don’t want the junk — I want the dough.”

Beery stood up. He said: “Gerry — you’re losing your mind. When you buck Crotti you’re bucking a machine. They’ll have a dozen guns trained on that deal — every angle figured—”

Granquist interrupted: “He’s right. Gerry — you can’t...”

“What do you think about it?” Kells was staring morosely at Borg.

Borg put a black ten on a red Jack. “It’d be a nice lick,” he said.

Kells put his leg down carefully, stood up. He held out his arm to Beery. “Give me a hand to the donnaker, Shep,” he said.

Beery helped him across the room.

When Kells came back, Borg said: “The Doc called. He says he’s sending over some crutches for you — an’ for you to keep off that leg.”

Beery helped Kells back to the big chair. He sat down and put his leg up on the other chair, muttered: “I don’t want any crutches.”

Then he turned his head to smile at Granquist. “Isn’t it about time you brought us all a drink, baby?”

Granquist got up and went into the kitchen.

Kells asked: “What time is it?”

Beery was standing beside Kells’ chair. He glanced at his watch, held it down for Kells to see: eleven-five.

At eleven-twenty Woodward was announced. Granquist went into the bedroom and closed the door, and Borg let Woodward in.

Woodward’s eyes were excited behind his wide-rimmed tortoise-shell glasses. He bowed nervously to Beery and Borg, sat down in the chair near Kells at Kells’ invitation.

“How would you like to buy the originals of all the dirt on Bellmann.?” Kells began.

Woodward smiled faintly. “We’ve discussed that before Mister Kells,” he said. “I’m afraid it’s too late to do anything about it now — your Coast Guardian has published several of the pictures and the story...”

Kells said: “You can doctor the negatives and claim they’re forgeries — and I can give you additional information with which you can prove the whole thing was a conspiracy to blackmail Bellmann.”

Woodward pursed his lips. He glanced at Beery, said: “Don’t you think we might discuss this alone, Mister Kells?”

Kells shook his head shortly.

“In addition to all that,” he went on “—the pictures and the information — I can give you” — he paused, leaned forward slightly — “absolute proof that Lee Fenner shot Bellmann.”

Woodward’s eyes widened a little. He leaned back in his chair and wet his lips, stared at Kells as if he weren’t quite sure he had heard correctly.