Dan Marlowe - Killer with a Key

“Poisoned,” Johnny interrupted, again in the flat statement.

“Yes.” Jeff paused. “You knew? How-”

“I didn't know, Jeff.” Johnny moved away from the door, casually. “But Mr. Morton knew. Didn't you, Mr. Morton?”

“What's all this tomfoolery!” “Mr. Morton” glared from Johnny to Jeff and back again. He made up his mind suddenly and advanced on Johnny, the round face dark. “You sucked me in here, wise guy! I-”

The resonant voice died to a gasp as Johnny put a palm in the center of the cream-colored sport jacket and shoved firmly. Tim Connor staggered back on his heels a quick half-dozen steps, his arms flailing the air. Beside Johnny in the narrow corridor Jeff Landry took a quick step forward. “Is this the guy?” he demanded tensely. “Is he the one?”

“Easy, Jeff,” Johnny counseled. He turned back to the big man. “You should have bought a program, Tim. You guessed wrong on the lineup; I'm in the other dugout.”

Bitter anger mottled the moon face. “I won't forget this, Killain. I'll cure you of meddling. I'll drop a ton on you.”

“That's for later. Right now let's clean house here.”

“Right now I'm getting out of here!” Tim Connor fixed his panama more firmly with an impatient tug at the brim. “And God help the man who tries to stop me!”

At his first step Johnny moved fast; he crowded up against the beefy figure, and Tim Connor retreated the step as his right hand darted under the cream-colored jacket. Johnny pivoted on the ball of his left foot and muscle-punched the reaching right arm with a line-drive right-hand smash. The big man's face went white, and his arm dropped limply as his body caromed from the wall. He made no effort to resist as Johnny snaked the snub-nosed revolver from the shoulder sling under the sport coat and tossed it back to Jeff.

Johnny looked at Tim Connor's suddenly shriveled face and at the left hand supporting the right arm. “You're gettin' old, Tim. You're about fifteen years and forty pounds away from gettin' out of here your way. You want to try mine?”

“I'll… get you for this, Killain-” The voice was still deep, but the vibrancy was gone. The heavy body was half crouched forward, but not aggressively; the face looked sick. “I'll… Let's hear your proposition.”

“Conversation.”

Tim Connor considered Johnny. “And?”

“If it reads you walk out of here.”

“Just a damn minute!” Jeff Landry tried to push by the bar of Johnny's extended arm. “If this is the guy that poisoned those animals he's not going to walk out of here!”

“Listen to me, Jeff.” Johnny said it quickly; he pushed the veterinarian back down the corridor and out of Tim Connor's hearing as he lowered his own voice. “You got a lot of money invested here, and you had a close call. We got a break and you're out of the barrel, but you go working this guy over he can tie you up indefinitely with assault charges and damage suits. Use your head.”

“Those animals-” Jeff began stubbornly, and paused. He took a slow step backward. “Get him out of here, then. Fast. Before I change my mind.”

Johnny walked back to Tim Connor. “Let's hear it, Tim.”

The beefy man swallowed visibly. “Hear? What else is to hear? You laid it all out on the drawing board.”

“I want to hear it from you, and right now. That's a soundproof door there, and Jeff is a little restless. Talk.”

“If I do I walk out?”

“If I think I'm hearing it all.”

“I was hired to scare Landry away from this address,” Tim Connor said abruptly. “It figured that a little bad publicity ought to change his mind that his lease couldn't be bought up.” He hesitated, and his eyes went warily to Jeff. He cleared his throat tentatively before continuing. “I sent two people in with dogs which had already been fed a pill set to dissolve in ten to twelve hours. This last time it was a cat.” He hesitated again and shrugged. “That's it; somehow you caught it. I still don't see how-”

“Who hired you?” It was Jeff's voice; Jeff's glasses were in his pocket, and his tone was shrill.

Tim Connor replied promptly as he kept an uneasy eye on Jeff. “Man named Dave Richman.”

Jeff looked at Johnny, who shook his head. “Never heard of him. It figures. This kind of thing filters down from five or six removes away from the operator like Connor here. With a lot of time and trouble and money you might be able to trace it back. You might. There's a better way.”

“There's a way to do it right!” Jeff said it between his teeth, and then his shoulders slumped tiredly and he turned away. “All right; I said it before. Do it your way. Get him out of here.”

Johnny nodded. “You heard the man, Tim. Get lost.” The big man needed no second invitation. With a careful eye on Jeff he sidled to the door and eased himself out into the waiting room. Johnny stepped into the doorway to make sure he kept on going, and he smiled at Jeff as he stepped back inside. “He hit just about three of the high spots on the way across the room.”

“I shouldn't have let him get away with it,” Jeff said leadenly. The fingers of the hand that traced the lean jawline trembled visibly. “Those helpless animals-”

“You did it right, Jeff. You were vulnerable. Still are, until you rivet this down. This is what you want to do-call up… Say, are you listening?”

“I'm listening. Go ahead.”

“Call up your landlord and tell him to send this lawyer around, that you want to talk to him. But do it fast, before this gets back to him. He'll think you want to settle. When you get him in here, the first thing you do is bounce his tail a foot off the floor. Then you tell him about Tim Connor and Dave Richman like you had them stuffed in your hip pocket. Tell him they've blown the whistle on the whole racket. Tell him that the next thing that goes wrong around this place you're comin' after him and nail his ears to the nearest telephone pole. Can you do that?”

“My pleasure, believe me.” Jeff drew a shallow breath. “How can I ever thank you, Johnny? I'm just beginning to realize I'm out from under this nightmare.”

“You're not out till you muzzle this lawyer,” Johnny pointed out. “If you don't make him think he's a hostage he's just going to try something else.” He stooped to pick up the carrying case. “You know who you should really thank? White stuff here.”

“The kitten?”

“It was a kitten Connor-or Morton-sent in, wasn't it?”

Jeff's eyes widened. “A white Persian!”

“Sure. It was supposed to be this one. It came to me while I was listenin' to Connor bellow outside. I intercepted Sassy here one step short of her being turned over to Connor's partner. She was earmarked for here. When the delivery broke down they had to get a replacement.”

Jeff Landry ran a finger lightly across the front of the wire mesh, and Sassy's pink nose followed it interestedly. “Eight lives left, little one. You don't look worried. Johnny, she has a gold lifetime pass around this place, and I hope she never needs it.” He put out his hand, and Johnny took it.

“Glad it worked out, Jeff.”

“So am I, Johnny. So am I.”

On the street Johnny was surprised to find a light rain falling. He walked up to the corner and caught a westbound cab just when he began to think he was going to have to start walking. In the cab he ran up the windows and took Sassy out of her carrying case. She seemed delighted to see him; she frisked around his feet on the floor and made several brisk, stinging sorties up his shins and thighs. He had difficulty getting her back in the case when they reached the hotel.

He walked down the alley and in through the subbasement entrance and rang for the service elevator. While waiting he removed his shirt and draped it over the black plastic case. When the elevator door opened Johnny got aboard, and Charlie, a wizened gnome with a facial tic who operated the service elevator on the middle shift, nodded grudgingly. He glanced at the shirt-covered case in Johnny's hand as the elevator started up. “What'cha got there, John?”