42 Days For Murder

Chapter Twenty

Lester called about three in the afternoon and said that he was using a booth in the lobby because Wendell and Mard were in his room. Mard had told him to tell me that Crandall had gone to Carson City and taken Wendel out of jail. And that he’d stepped out and joined them and stuck like a leech to Wendel ever since. That Crandall had said he got Wendel out of jail because he wanted to talk settlement with him, but that he’d postponed the talk on the plea that he wanted to talk it over with Wendel first. I said: “It’s working. Did Crandall let Wendel talk to his wife?”

“No. Mard told me he’d asked Crandall to let them talk it over but that Crandall said she wouldn’t do it. That she never wanted to speak to her husband again.”

“That’s fine, Lester. Is Joey with them?”

“He was for a while but he went out to the Three C Club to get a few drinks. He said he had a twenty-eight-dollar start toward a drunk and didn’t want to lose his initial investment. That he would if he let what he had in him die out. I think he’s crazy.”

“Like a fox,” I said. “Keep sticking around.”

That was all for that time. The next call came at nine and I was getting worried for fear it wouldn’t. It was Lester, again, and he said: “Wendel wants to talk to you. Can you meet him here?”

“Where?”

“We’re still at the hotel. Mard and Wendel and I. Joey phoned once but hasn’t come back.”

I said to Macintosh: “The dope has made up his mind to pay off,” and to Lester: “Tell him I’ll be there about ten-thirty. That I can’t get there before.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“Tell him it’s the finish. And for him not to take off on some screwy angle but to wait for me. And tell Mard to hold tighter than ever; it won’t be for long.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“Okey, kid.”

Macintosh called Kirby then, and said: “Mac speaking. Listen. Take either one or two men and go down to the Golden Eagle and look it over. Look for Rucci’s men. Look for anybody that’s hanging around and looking suspicious. And then away we go.”

“Pick up anybody that looks bad? That it?” Kirby asked.

“That’s it. I mean do a first class job and really case the place. Crandall will have somebody down there waiting for Wendel and Mard to come out and I want them picked up. Now don’t miss. Then call us back if we’re not there by the time you’re through.”

“What’ll I do with whoever I pick up?”

“Hide ’em. Where Ziggy Hunter won’t be able to get ’em out. If you can, someplace where he won’t be able to talk to ’em.”

“Then what?”

“Then phone me. Get action, will you?”

Kirby said he’d get action.

We went out ready for trouble but didn’t find any. We hardly expected to, for that matter; we just weren’t taking unnecessary chances. We got in Macintosh’s sedan and went to the hotel and got there just as Kirby was coming out.

He wasn’t alone. He had two cops with him and three men besides the cops. There were no handcuffs but you could see the men were prisoners. Kirby got over to the side and said to us: “I got ’em. Two of ’em were up the hall, outside Wendell’s room. The other was in the lobby and I nailed him when we came in.”

“Crandall’s men?” I asked.

“Rucci’s. One of them used to tend bar for Rucci at the Rustic. Another used to be the bouncer at the Three C. The other just hangs around. You know what he is.”

Macintosh looked the third man over and said: “Yeah! Big May’s man, if you want to call him out of name. Anything on ’em?”

“Each of ’em had a gun. The pimp had a deck in the cuff of his pants.”

Macintosh said: “He’ll talk, then. Just as soon as he has to have a shot. We’ll meet you at the station. Sink these birds deep, Kirb, we’re going to want ’em.”

Kirby grinned and said he would and that he’d wait for us. And then Macintosh and I went upstairs.

I could hear Wendel before I got to his room. He was damned near shouting: “I don’t understand this. This is ridiculous, I tell you, Mard. This is the twentieth century; not the days of the old west. This is ridiculous.”

I could hear Mard’s soothing mumble and then I knocked on the door. Wendel threw it open, scowled all the more when he saw me, and snapped out:

“You’ve got a lot to explain, Connell. I’ve put up with these high-handed tactics of yours long enough.”

Macintosh and I went inside and I said: “I judge that Crandall gave you a line of crap. Isn’t that it?”

“He wants to talk with me about a settlement, if that’s what you mean.”

“Did he tell you why he got you out of jail?”

“Of course. I couldn’t well talk business while I was in jail. I understand that was your doing.”

“That’s right. You were safe there, weren’t you?”

“Mard has been telling me of this ridiculous theory of yours. I’m perfectly safe right here. Things like that don’t happen in this age, Connell.”

“That’s why Kirby just didn’t take three guys out of the hotel that were waiting for you to stick your nose out. It just didn’t happen.”

Mard asked: “Is that right?”

“Right.”

Mard said to Wendel: “You see. I tell you when the amount of money involved is as great as in this case, nothing is impossible.”

Wendel lost a lot of bluster. “Do you mean to say that three men were waiting in the hotel to murder me?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Can you prove that?”

“I don’t know yet. I don’t think I’ll have to prove it.”

“What d’ya mean by that statement? Connell, I demand that you give me the facts in your possession.”

I said: “Oh nuts! You’d screw things up if I did. Let it work out; it will. Now I want you to go to the phone and get Crandall on the wire. Insist on one thing. An appointment for eleven-thirty tonight. Tell him you’ll be ready to discuss terms of settlement at that time. Make it at his office. If he objects to that hour, tell him you’re sick of the whole dirty mess and want to pay off and leave in the morning.”

“I refuse to do any such thing. Eleven-thirty at night is no hour to talk business. I’ve lost my faith in you, Connell, I’ll tell you frankly. I’ll see Mr. Crandall at a reasonable hour in the morning.”

Macintosh stepped ahead of me and said: “You’ll do as you’re told, for once in your life, at least. You’re fooling with murder and a man is trying to save your life and you’re fighting him. Use your head, man. This isn’t a country or a people you know. I’ll tell you now that Connell knows exactly what he’s doing. He wouldn’t have the co-operation he’s getting if he didn’t.”

I couldn’t see his face but he must have looked very convincing. Wendel stepped back, said: “But... but... Who are you, sir?”

Macintosh said: “The name is Macintosh. I work for the Government, if that means anything. I’m concerned with more than a divorce case, mister... the Government isn’t paying them attention as yet.”

I said to Wendel: “For Christ’s sake, man, use sense. Work it our way and it will all be over. This is serious; murder always is.”

“I still refuse to believe I’m in any danger.”

I said: “I bet that maid your wife had thought the same thing. But it didn’t keep a knife out of her neck, did it? Now will you go to the phone and make that date with Crandall? We’ve got things to do before then. Better make it for twelve, at that.”

“He’ll probably refuse to see me at that hour.”

Mard said: “People don’t refuse money at any hour of the day or night, Mr. Wendel. At least they don’t in Reno.”

Wendel went to the phone. He acted as if the whole thing was silly, and as though he didn’t approve of what he was doing, but he went. He got Crandall, told him he’d like to see him at twelve, and I could hear the phone crackle when Crandall talked back at him. This made Wendel sore. He snapped back:

“Now listen. I tell you I want to talk to you at twelve tonight. I can’t talk with you now; I’m busy. If you don’t care to see me at twelve, say so. I can go back East and let this matter go to court, if that’s what you want.”

He said, in a much softer voice a minute later: “Twelve at your office then. Mr. Crandall. Yes, I’ll have Mr. Mard with me. At twelve then.”

He hung up the phone and turned, with his lower lip sticking out in a pout, and said, “Is that all now, gentlemen?”

Macintosh said: “Practically all. I’ll have to ask you to stay in this room with Mr. Mard until we come back for you. We’ll keep that appointment with you, you know.”

Wendel asked: “And what if I don’t choose to do that?”

This got Macintosh finally. He roared out: “By the Almighty God! I’ll tell you what! I’ll cuff you to that bed, you young whipper-snapper, and lock the door on you. I’ve put in too much work on this case to have it screwed up by a young fool that doesn’t realize what people are trying to do for him.”

Wendel said: “I’m paying Connell for what he does,” but he said it in a weak voice and started backing away from Macintosh.

Macintosh said: “You didn’t pay Connell to stand on the street and make a God-damned target of himself for a sharpshooter across the street. They don’t make the kind of money that pays for things like that. He started out on a simple little divorce case and ended up in a murder. You don’t pay for that, mister.”

Mard said soothingly: “I’m sure Mr. Wendel will wait here with me. Won’t you, Wendel?”

Wendel said: “Yes!”

Macintosh snorted and said: “I’d hate like hell to come back and find him not here. Come on, Connell.”

Lester said to me: “Can I come too?” There’d been so many hard words that I’d hardly had a chance to look at him. He was sitting over in the corner with a bright and interested look and watching Macintosh and me through his goggles as though he’d never properly looked at us before. I looked at Mac and nodded the least bit and Mac said:

“I guess so. He can stay back, if it gets rough.”

Lester almost ran to the door before either of us changed our minds. The three of us went out and Macintosh crumbled: “I should take lip from a guy like that. What in the hell! All he’s got is a bunch of money and I got a job of work to do.”

Lester asked him: “Are you really a G-man?”

Mac said: “I guess you’d call me that.”

Lester looked at him as though he was getting a peek at God and said: “I’ve always wanted to know a G-man. I take a great interest in the laboratory course you men have the opportunity of studying. It must be very interesting.”

Mac said: “Hell, kid, I’ve never been east of the Mississippi River. I wouldn’t fool you. I’m the other sort of G-man that just works by guess and by God.”

I said: “Lester, what Mr. Macintosh is trying to say is this. He works on the special duty that his knowledge of the country and people fit him for. He’s a specialist, as it were.”

Lester said: “I understand,” and looked disappointed. I felt sorry for the kid; finding a God was made out of common clay must have hurt him as badly as when he discovered the Santa Claus story was false.

We got in Macintosh’s sedan and went to the Station and picked up Kirby and one other cop. Kirby looked askance at Lester and I said: “He’ll stay behind, out of the way, when the going gets rough.”

Kirby grunted and Lester looked hurt. Macintosh grinned and said: “It’s liable to get rough right soon,” and headed the car toward the cribs.

I said: “Lester, you stay in the car.”

Macintosh said: “What the hell, Connell. He ain’t made of sugar or salt. Don’t make a baby of him.”

I said: “Okey! Lester, you can come along for the ride.”

Lester beamed and wiggled a bit on the seat. He looked over at Macintosh and, from the look, I could see God was back on earth again.

Lester wanted to see fast action... even if he didn’t understand it. Mac was giving it to him.