Tough as Nails: The Complete Cases of Donahue From the Pages of Black Mask (24 page)

“That’s it: keep that shade down,” a man said from the doorway.

“Now look here,” Donahue began, “what the hell’s the use of keeping me cooped here?”

The man was small, chunky, blonde. He held a revolver in his hand and his pale blue eyes were glacial.

“I said, keep that shade down.”

“The hell with the shade. What I want to know—”

“What you want to know, buddy, don’t mean a thing to me.”

The man’s voice, like his eyes, was frigid. He backed out and closed the door.

Donahue shrugged and dropped back to the cot. He fished a crumpled cigarette from his pocket, lit up and reclined on one elbow. His brown eyes thinned down speculatively. He held inhalations of smoke long in his lungs, then let the smoke dribble out slowly through his nostrils. He looked at his strap-watch. It was half-past one in the morning.

At two he heard the sound of an automobile engine. He rose and cat-footed to one of the windows, drew the shade aside just far enough to peer out. He saw two big headlights among the trees, several shadows of men moving; heard low voices, a door open.

He went back and sat down on the cot. Two minutes later the door swung in and the tall man stood there in a baggy ulster belted tightly at the middle and a derby tilted on his head. Back of him were some more men: Pete and Charlie and the blonde and the other man who had ridden in the car.

The tall man was drawing off his gloves. The cold had put spots on his thin white face. His small black eyes glittered.

“Shamus,” he said in a thin brittle voice, “you’ve just got to come clean.”

Donahue stretched and yawned. “About what?”

“Jeeze, I’m gettin’ to hate ’at guy!” snarled Charlie.

Pete said: “Keep your mouth shut, Charlie.”

The tall man swaggered into the room, his face sinister in a quiet unostentatious manner, his black eyes almost luminous with a suppressed ferocity.

He said: “It was the key. It was the combination. But”—he showed thin small teeth gradually—“the stuff was gone!”

“No!”

“Just—yes.”

Back of the tall thin man the others waited, rooted to the floor like images, like robots that would move at the magic touch of a single word.

Donahue stood up slowly. He swallowed once. He looked from one to another of the men slowly, dispassionately, with a strange brown-eyed candor. Then he spread his hands palmwise.

“What am I supposed to say?”

“You,” came the thin brittle voice of the tall man, “know what to say.”

“So help me, brother, I don’t.”

The tall man took a long springy step and caught Donahue by the collar in a long-fingered strong hand. His black eyes stared fiercely, his thin nostrils twitched.

“You’ll tell me,” he droned somberly. “By——, you’re not as fancy as you think you are! You hear me!”

The brown-eyed candor of Donahue’s eyes seemed to enrage the tall man. His taut arm throbbed. He cursed and flung Donahue sprawling to the cot. Charlie whipped out an automatic and started dancing up and down like a boxer, a mirthless grin spreading his lips.

The tall man looked at Charlie and said: “Calm down, you.” Then he looked at Donahue. “We’ve been watching that house for days. Nobody could have taken it out. Nobody left or went in the house but you. What I want to know is, how do you figure in this spread? Where do you come in? Who sent you?”

“The man who owns the house sent me. Where the hell do you think I got the key—made it?”

The tall man stepped back, bending his brows. “Stanley Edgecomb sent—”

“I guess he had a right to, since he owns the house and the property I went after.”

“Where is he now?”

“Hell knows. I picked up the job in—well—Kansas City. He was on his way West—South. I was to take the stuff and put it in a safe deposit vault, send him the key and receipt. I was paid three hundred bucks in advance—”

“Ah, he’s lyin’; that guy’s lyin’,” Charlie snarled.

“Shut up,” the tall man said.

“That wiper of yours sure has a nasty disposition,” Donahue said, with a nod towards Charlie.

The tall man said: “Never mind him. Why the hell did Edgecomb send you into his own house? Couldn’t you’ve gone to his caretaker?”

“He didn’t even want the caretaker to know. Listen. I’m a private cop and when I pick up a three-hundred-dollar job as easy as this looked, cripes, I don’t ask too many questions. He said the house might be watched. He warned me. Now what a swell spot I’m in when I report that the stuff wasn’t there. You guys have got me all wrong. I’ve got no grudge against you—none of you, except maybe Charlie, and he smells, or maybe he’s just kind of meshuga—”

“Ixnay on them wisecracks,” Charlie snarled, massaging his gun.

The tall man had calmed down considerably. He plucked thoughtfully at his lip, looking around at his men.

Pete said: “It’s somethin’ phony somewhere, I’ll bet. I’ll bet my shirt there’s somethin’ phony. I’ll bet you anything there is.”

Donahue chimed in: “You said it, Pete. There certainly is. When Edgecomb sends me to his own house to get something, and it isn’t there—” He threw up his hands. “Well, every little thing isn’t strictly on the up and up. Look at the hole I’m in. Listen, if I thought”—he jabbed a forefinger rigidly into space—“if I thought I was going to get mixed up in a scatter like this I’d never have taken the job. Not me.” He waved his hands alongside his ears. “No, sir—not this baby!”

Charlie snarled: “Ah, this guy’s just tryin’ to talk himself out o’ the hot grease! Let me take him for a walk in the woods.”

“You,” Donahue said sagely, “had better spare the rod.”

“And spoil the kid, eh?”

“No. And save yourself from the hot seat, torpedo.”

“Sh!” the tall man said.

There were running footsteps racing down a stairway. A man burst into the room.

“Jeeze, there’s a car parked down the street—just parked. It looks like cops—”

“All the shades down?” cut in the tall man.

“Sure.”

Charlie growled: “I’ll get the Tommy guns—”

“You wait a minute!” snapped the tall man. “Those plates were changed, weren’t they?”

“Sure,” Pete said quickly. “Changed them as soon as we got back.”

“What d’ you do with the others?”

“Chucked them down the well.”

“Okey.” The tall man listened intently for a split-moment. “Now get this. No shooting. If it’s the cops, let ’em in. Spread some cards on the table, and a bottle. Look contented, everybody.”

He spun on Donahue. “You—you’ll sit at the table with the boys. Take your overcoat off. And hold your tongue.”

“Now you wait a minute,” Donahue clipped crisply. “None of that stuff. You’re in a tough spot. So am I. I’ll play my part providing I walk out with the cops when they leave. I’ll walk to their car, wait till they go, and then go with them.”

“Nix on that!” Charlie barked. “This guy—”

“I’m not talking to you, you heel. I’m talking to your boss.”

“You’ll wait till they’re gone,” the tall man said.

“Nothing doing,” Donahue flung back hotly. “You can’t shoot me now. You can’t start a fight. They’d hear it. I walk out with the cops. I tell them nothing. Take that—or leave it.”

“My——!” groaned Charlie.

The tall man muttered: “Okey.”

“Jeeze, you gonna let this guy—”

“Shut up, Charlie! It’s the only out.”

Pete said: “Somebody knocking.”

“Answer it,” the tall man said. “You other guys—inside. Quick! I’ll do the talking.”

His black feverish eyes glittered on Donahue. Donahue smiled.

“Two-time,” the tall man muttered, “and I’ll fog your guts.”

“How about a little stud,” Donahue recommended.

They sat at a round table in a big room, holding cards, looking contented or bored. Donahue was considering a pair of aces showing, with a third in the hole, and the chunky blonde was dealing. A bottle and glasses were on the table, and cigarette smoke writhed and slithered beneath the chandelier.

Pete yelled down the hallway from the front door: “It’s just Sergeant Uhl and a couple o’ boys.”

“Pair of aces bets,” said the blonde.

“Pair of aces bets two blues,” said Donahue.

A small man in a gray velour hat appeared unostentatiously in the doorway and regarded the gathering with mild blue eyes. He had a white mustache, gently inquisitive eyebrows. Two big men, younger, bulked behind him, hands in pockets significantly. The small man had his fingers loosely locked behind his back.

“Oh, hello there, Sergeant!” greeted the tall thin man, leaning back, saluting.

“Hello, Shadd,” Uhl said softly. “I just thought I’d drop around and see who was living here. It’s a nice night out.”

“So they tell me.”

Uhl looked slowly around the table. “Just a friendly little gathering.”

“Won’t you have a drink?”

“I never touch it, Shadd. My liver can’t stand it any more. This is a nice quiet place you have. Sort of off the beaten paths. It used to be a farm here, didn’t it?”

“Believe it was—at one time.”

“Yes, yes,” Uhl drawled, “it is a very nice place.”

“You don’t get out this way much, do you, Sergeant?”

“No, I don’t, Shadd. And I like the country, too. So does my wife, Ella…. Now, Charlie, take your hand out of your pocket. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I was fishin’ for a match,” Charlie blurted.

Shadd, the tall man, slid a black look towards Charlie.

Uhl went on drawling monotonously: “We’re only on a tail. A man named Jansen was killed a little while ago down on Lindell Boulevard and we thought—no offense, Shadd—we just thought you might know something about it.”

“Gosh, Sarge, I’m sorry—we don’t,” Shadd said.

“A man in the house next door heard the shots and ran out in time to see a black sedan draw up. Two men jumped in the sedan and it headed west. It had Oklahoma pads. I noticed outside that you’ve got Missouri pads, but it was a sedan like yours. I noticed your engine’s warm.”

“I just came in a little while ago,” Shadd said. “Did the car come out this way?”

“The man next door called Headquarters and the dispatcher flashed a description of the car to all outlying districts. The car was supposed to have come in this direction.”

Donahue said: “Say, before Shadd and the boys came back, I heard a car go by. I looked out the window and I swear it was doing better than sixty. It was a big sedan. I couldn’t tell whether it was black or dark blue.”

“I guess they’re heading west,” Uhl said sadly. Then: “Well, we’ll get along, Shadd. I’m glad to find you liking it out here. It’s healthier than in the city… you know, Shadd?” Uhl almost winked; he smiled gently, said: “Well, we’ll be going then. Come on, boys.”

Donahue stood up. “You heading back for the city, Sergeant?”

“Yes.”

“Mind giving me a lift?”

“Only too glad to.”

Donahue shrugged into his raglan, smiling around the table. He could almost feel the current of suspicion, of brooding fear, that pulsed in the men.

“I’ll be seeing you, boys,” he said lightly.

He rolled out with the plain-clothes men into the windy darkness. They crossed a grubby lawn, passing between two huge oaks, and reached the gravel highway. A man was waiting by a big touring car, the red end of a cigarette incarnadining his nose.

“You can ride in the back,” Uhl told Donahue kindly.

One of the detectives climbed in front beside the chauffeur, and Uhl joined Donahue and the other detective in the rear. Uhl stowed away two Thompson sub-machine guns in a compartment back of the front seat; they had been lying on the floor. The driver turned the car about and the big machine roared back towards the city. Donahue took in landmarks carefully.

“He was killed in the basement,” Uhl said wearily. “Shot once in the chest, once in the head. He was an old man. The Edgecomb place. Edgecomb went West—or South—for a couple of months. You know him, of course: he’s a brilliant lawyer.” He turned towards Donahue in the dark windy tonneau. “You’re a stranger here, aren’t you?”

“Yes, kind of.”

“H’m, I thought so…. Not too fast, Eddie. Some bad curves along here.”

Donahue got off at Olive Street and Twelfth Boulevard. He walked rapidly to the Apollo and entered a deserted lobby. He stopped at the desk to ask if any telegrams had arrived; there had not; he ascended beside a sleepy elevator boy and went directly to his room. He took off hat and raglan, felt gingerly of the bump on his head, winced, swore softly, and took a long shot of Scotch straight. For a moment he paced up and down with long heavy strides, slamming fist into palm slowly, time and time again.

Then he went down the hall and knocked at Herron’s door. It opened almost immediately, and he walked in. Herron closed the door, locked it. He was still dressed; anxiety and eagerness showed in his face.

“You didn’t get it—”

“I got it,” clipped Donahue, “but I had to plant it out back of the house. And what a sweet mess I piled into! Bodyguard? Hell!” He dropped to a chair and related briefly what had happened.

“And Jansen was killed!” exclaimed Herron.

“So Uhl says. And let me tell you that Uhl is a pretty foxy dick. One of those quiet guys. But he’s got a head on his shoulders.”

Herron blinked. “And Shadd! Shadd is the one! Shadd and his rats! They were waiting, eh? They didn’t believe that I had left town. And poor Jansen—It’s outrageous, Mr. Donahue! Why didn’t you tell Uhl?”

Donahue scowled. “I made a bargain with Shadd. Uhl’s no dumb bunny. He’ll get them.”

“But a bargain with Shadd—”

“Was a bargain,” broke in Donahue. “Those guys might have socked and planted me away before Uhl and his men came in. Don’t you worry about my end of it. I’ll get that black box. One bad thing—Shadd knows where I’m staying. They frisked me and I had the hotel key in my pocket.”

“That is bad, Mr. Donahue, that is bad.”

“I’ll admit it’s not rosy, but what the hell. Those guys would have a swell job on their hands trying to crash this hotel.”

Herron made a sweeping gesture. “Don’t think that we are through with them yet! Evidently Uhl hasn’t a shred of evidence. It was just blind luck that brought him to that house in the country. They will still try to get that evidence. Even now they may be watching the hotel, watching what move you will make next.”