Lucky Stiff - Craig Rice (good book club books .TXT) 📗

bill he could send for anything. He felt a slight stiffening along his spine and a prickling of the nerves. Something was going on here, something more than finding Anna Marie’s bereaved family. “Drop everything… devote yourself …” He began speculating about what he might be doing that Eva Childers wanted him to drop. Would, indeed, pay him anything to drop.

“My dear Mrs. Childers,” he said suavely. “Tell me. Why haven’t you gone to the young woman’s lawyer—Jesse Conway, I believe his name is. He might be able to give you the information without having to—conduct an expensive investigation.” He got that “expensive” in loud.

She looked hurt and said, “Naturally, I thought of that. But Mr. Conway has gone on a vacation. There doesn’t seem to be any way of reaching him.”

“Oh, he’s gone on a vacation, eh?” Malone said. “H’m. Well, in that case—”

“Of course—you’ll want a retainer—” She began digging through her black moleskin purse. “I brought a thousand dollars. If that would be enough—”

“I’ll have to think about it,” Malone said. He sat down behind his desk again.

He owed a month’s office rent, and he owed Maggie two weeks’ salary. He was overdrawn at the bank again. And he’d promised to provide Anna Marie with whatever money she needed, to say nothing of a few comforts and luxuries he’d thought of himself. There was exactly eleven dollars and fifty-five cents on his person, and heaven only knew when any more would come in. He looked thoughtfully at Eva Childers for about fifteen seconds.

“A retainer won’t be necessary in a case like this,” he said smoothly. “If I succeed in finding the girl’s family, and arranging things the way you want them, I’ll send you a bill. I’d much rather do it that way.”

“Oh, but please,” she said. She laid ten one-hundred-dollar bills on his desk.

“Please, no,” Malone said. His fingers ached as he pushed them away.

“If it isn’t enough,” Eva Childers said, “I could make it much more.” She opened the purse again.

“No, no, no, no,” Malone said. He added, “No!”

They argued about it delicately for a moment or so. Then she slid the bills back in her purse with a regretful gesture and rose.

“Believe me,” Malone said, holding her hand, “I’ll drop everything and devote myself—heart and soul—to this little problem of yours.”

He had, he reflected later, never spoken a truer word.

After she’d gone he sat for a few minutes, his forehead resting on his fists. Even after paying Maggie’s back salary, and a few other important debts, and a slight installment on the rent, he’d be able to provide for Anna Marie out of what was left from a thousand dollars. He’d promised her that he’d “manage.” His head sagged into his hands. He began humming absent-mindedly, “I wish I had never known sunshine—I wish I had never known rain—”

Maggie came in and said, “Did you want something, Mr. Malone?”

“I want a lot of things,” Malone said, “and right now one of them is to be left alone.”

“Mrs. Childers left this with me,” Maggie said. “Your retainer. She said to call her if you required more.” She laid the ten one-hundred-dollar bills on his desk.

Malone sat up and stared at them. He imagined them changed into fifties, twenties, tens, fives, and slot machine money. He thought about all the things they could buy. He thought about Maggie’s salary, and the rent, and Anna Marie. And that small bill at Joe the Angel’s bar.

He looked up at Maggie. “Mrs. Childers left that here by mistake,” he said. “Put that money in an envelope and mail it to her. Registered mail, return receipt requested.”

“But Mr. Malone—” Maggie began unhappily.

“That isn’t a retainer,” Malone said. “That’s a bribe.”

Maggie sniffed, said, “It wouldn’t be the first time,” and picked up the money.

“Maggie,” Malone said in his sternest voice, “there are bribes and bribes.”

“That gray chiffon negligee,” Maggie said, “is going to cost you seventy-five bucks. Plus sales tax.”

Malone winced, but he looked her right in the eye. “Honesty is the best policy,” he said. “Or at least I’ve always heard it spoken of very highly. Also, there’s such a thing as my duty to my client, and I don’t believe in being bribed into neglecting it.”

“Who is your client?” she demanded.

“You’d be surprised,” Malone said, grinning. He reached for his hat. “If anyone wants me, I’ll be at the crap game in back of Joe the Angel’s.”

“I thought you’d given up gambling,” Maggie said, following him to the door.

“I did,” Malone told her. “But I’ve got to pay the rent and your salary somehow.” And a few other things, he reminded himself.

There was one chance in a thousand he’d be able to slip down the hall, take the stairs to the floor below, and ring for the elevator without encountering Jake and Helene. And he missed it. They pounced on him the moment he’d closed the office door.

“Malone,” Helene said happily, “Jake has told me everything.”

“Yeah,” Jake said. He caught Malone’s eye over Helene’s shoulder. “I told her all about how I was trying to bust an extortion ring and had to keep under cover, and how now I’m still trying to bust it and at the same time find out who hired Joe Childers’ murderer and framed Anna Marie St. Clair.”

“Well, well,” Malone said, “so everything is straightened out now. Fine. And if you’ll excuse me—”

Helene grabbed his arm. “And I told Jake all I’d found out,” she said. “About how there have been four murders, but who could the fourth victim have been? And—”

Malone blinked. “This is all very interesting,” he said, “but I have a very important business appointment.”

“We know,” Helene said. “We heard you. And another thing—”

“Eavesdroppers,” Malone said smugly, “always come home to roost.” He punched the elevator button.

Helene said, “You mean, chickens never hear good of themselves.”

“I know what I mean,” Malone said. “I mean, don’t count your birds in the hand before they come out of the bush.”

The elevator stopped, the wire door rattled open. A big man in a well-fitting brown suit and a slouch hat stepped out. He could have worn a Roman toga and the word “cop” would still have been written all over him.

“Hi, Malone,” he said. “Just the guy I was looking for.”

“Hello, Lou,” Malone said with false heartiness. “Sorry, I’m just leaving to keep an important business engagement.”

“That’s O.K.,” Lou said. “It can wait. Von Flanagan wants to see you, and he’s in a hurry. Your phone was busy a couple of times he called, so he sent me up for you.”

Malone said, “Well—”

“That’s fine,” Lou said. He punched the down button for the elevator.

“Yes,” Malone began, “but I—”

“That’s all right,” Lou said. “He won’t keep you long.”

“We’re coming with you,” Helene said.

“Oh, no you aren’t,” Malone said.

“Oh, yes we are,” Helene said cheerfully.

Malone looked at her for a moment. There was a look in her eyes that he recognized. It meant trouble. He knew there was no use arguing. Besides, a sudden idea had hit him. He was going to need Jake and Helene.

“You’re more than welcome,” he said. “And what’s more, do you have a date for this evening?”

Jake and Helene looked at each other. “Nothing we can’t break,” Jake said.

“Fine,” Malone said. “You have one now.”

The elevator arrived, the door opened, and Bill said, “Wish you folks would make up your mind. Fella gets tired, riding this thing up and down.”

“That’s life,” Malone told him. “Just—”

“Fella gets even more tired of that same old gag,” Bill

said. “Wish I had two bits for every time I’ve had to listen to it. When a fella gets to my age—”

He slid open the door. “First floor. All out.” He caught Malone by the sleeve, nodded his head toward the plainclothes man. “Trouble with the cops? Need any help?”

“Not yet, Bill,” Malone said.

Lou consented to ride in Helene’s car. He sat in back with Malone.

“Have a cigar,” Malone said. “How’s your boss?”

“He ain’t so good, Malone,” Lou confided. “Last few weeks he’s had the office full of head doctors.”

“Head of what?” Malone asked.

“Not head of anything,” Lou said. “Just, head doctors. We used to call ‘em crazy doctors when we was back in school. Just between us, Malone, I wonder—” He paused.

“Acts funny, too. Now, this here business.”

Helene had slowed up for a stoplight. The convertible slid to a stop. Lou’s next words sounded unexpectedly loud.

“Don’t you let on like I talked to you, Malone,” he said, “but he’s got trouble. He said I should come and fetch you and he said it was something about”—the plainclothes man paused, swallowed hard, and went on—“a murder that nobody knows where it was committed at, and nobody knows who it happened to.”