An Ear to the Ground

Six

When Harry returned to Paradise City, he found the Rolls waiting at the airport with To-To at the wheel. To-To seemed stunned. When Harry questioned him about Lisa, the Jap just shook his head, muttering, “Bad... bad... bad,” and that’s all Harry could get out of him.

The Rolls pulled up outside the house and Harry ran up the steps. He saw there were five police cars parked in the drive and when he walked into the hall, the place seemed full of plain-clothes and uniformed officers.

Police Captain Fred Terrell came out of the living-room and introduced himself. This wasn’t necessary. Harry had often seen Terrell on the golf course and knew him to be a sound, efficient police chief.

As Terrell walked with Harry into the living-room, he said, “The robbery and the murder took place between eleven o’clock and three o’clock. That’s the nearest the M.O. can place it.”

Harry sat down. He was still in a state of shock. As he lit a cigarette, his hands trembled.

“How did it happen?”

“It’s a bit of a mystery.” Terrell lowered his bulk into an armchair. “Right now, Mr. Lewis, we’re wondering if it could be an inside job.”

Harry stiffened and stared at him.

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Your staff are top suspects for the moment,” Terrell said quietly. “We’ve checked all the doors. The locks on the front door, the side door and the patio door are special and they haven’t been tampered with. A window in your study was found open. This seems to have been opened to make us think the killer got in that way, but we’re satisfied the window was opened from the inside.”

“But none of the staff...”

“Just a moment. How long have you had the nurse... Helgar?”

“This is ridiculous! Helgar was devoted to my wife!”

“How long has she been here?”

“Ever since my wife had her accident... two years.”

“Here’s another little problem, Mr. Lewis. The Raysons’ safe is burglar-proof. I know these safes well. Who else beside you, knew how to open it and turn off the alarm?”

“My wife, of course... and... Helgar.”

“The Jap or the other staff?”

“No.”

Terrell nodded.

“The safe was found open when Helgar discovered the murder. You see what I’m getting at? This is a very complicated safe. Whoever opened it must have known where the hidden switches are located. We’ve already checked on this with Hacket, the local agent. Unless you know better, Mr. Lewis, the only people who could have opened the safe are Hacket, the fitter, yourself and Helgar. We are now checking on Hacket and the fitter. We know them. They are first-class people, and I’m sure we can rule them out.” Terrell pulled at his moustache. “So that leaves you and Helgar... you were in ’Frisco, so that leaves Helgar.”

“It’s wrong. Helgar wouldn’t have done it,” Harry said. “She was devoted to Lisa.”

Terrell lifted his heavy shoulders.

“From what I hear die Esmaldi necklace would be a big temptation:”

Harry got to his feet.

“Well, I have to leave all this to you, Captain. Now, I would like to see my wife.”

Terrell looked at him, then shook his head.

“I would advise against that, Mr. Lewis. I know how you are feeling, but you should avoid that experience. Helgar has identified her. You sec. this is a shocking thing... the murder was brutal and savage. The killer struck your wife with a small bronze statue that I understand stood in the hall. There were repeated blows. The killer meant to kill her. She is not a sight you should see.”

Harry turned pale.

“I see.” He felt as if he were going to be sick. “You’ll excuse me. If you want me, I’ll be in-my study,” and he went slowly and unsteadily from the room.

As he left, Fred Hess, head of the Homicide Squad, a short, fat man with cold, shrewd eyes, came in.

“Nothing, Chief,” he said in disgust. “No fingerprints... no clues. Doc Gourley says the killer will have bloodstains on him. I’ve been over Heigar’s room... nothing. We’ve checked the rooms of the rest of the staff... nothing. All the same, I’m willing to bet this is an inside job. The open window points to it. It was definitely opened from the inside.”

“Unless it was done deliberately to make us think it was an inside job,” Terrell said thoughtfully.

Hess scratched his head.

“Yeah. Then how did the killer get in? Whoever it was knew how to open the safe. I’ve been wondering about Lewis.”

“He was in ’Frisco. He has a cast-iron alibi.”

“Sure, but he benefits... now, he’s worth millions. Maybe he hired someone to do the job. He could have given the killer the front door key and told him how to open the safe.”

Terrell brooded over this, then he nodded.

“You have an idea there, Fred. Yes... if Helgar didn’t do it, then Lewis is our top suspect. Suppose we start digging into his background?”

Mrs. Lowenstein, grimacing, sipped her hot lemon juice and water. In another two weeks she would be leaving the Clinic, satisfied that she had shed at least two stone of unwanted fat. She turned on the radio to listen to the nine o’clock news. She was so shocked when she heard that Lisa Lewis had been murdered, that the foolproof Raysons’ safe had been opened and the famous Esmaldi necklace had been stolen that for some minutes she lay in her bed, unable to think and having difficulty with her breathing.

She had never liked Lisa, but this was a terrible thing and she wondered if she should telephone Harry (who she also disliked) and offer condolences. She decided against this. How could anyone break into a Raysons’ safe? She felt a rush of blood to her head. If Lisa’s safe had been broken into, so could hers!

She snatched up the telephone receiver and called her residence. After a little delay, Baines, her butler, answered.

“Baines? Have you heard about Mrs. Lewis? Is my jewellery safe?”

Having finished a somewhat heavy breakfast, Baines found this question absurd and irritating.

“Of course it is, madam. Your jewels are in the safe.”

“I know that! So was Mrs. Lewis’s necklace, but it has gone! Baines, go to the safe and see! Have you been to the safe since I have been here?”

“Certainly not, madam.”

“Then go and see immediately. I will hold on.”

“Very well, madam.” Baines managed to convey in his disapproving tone that madam was an hysterical, old fool.

Four minutes later, just when Mrs. Lowenstein was beginning to boil over with impatience, Baines came back on the line. His voice sounded unsteady and shocked.

“I regret to tell you, madam, the jewels are missing,” he said.

“All of them?” Mrs. Lowenstein screeched.

“I’m afraid so, madam.”

“Call the police! I’m coming at once!”

While this was going on, Mrs. Alec Jackson who was once a famous Danish model and who still kept her figure although now fifty-two years of age, picked up the nine o’clock news while sitting on the deck of her husband’s yacht, anchored in the Miami harbour.

“Alec! Did you hear?” she demanded, turning off the transistor.

Her husband, stout, sixty years of age who drank whisky for breakfast, dragged his eyes from the financial column of the Miami Times and scowled at her.

“Heard... what?”

“Don’t you ever listen to anything? Lisa Lewis has been murdered and her necklace has been stolen!”

Jackson laid down his newspaper and whistled.

“Murdered? Well! A bit of luck for Harry. He’ll come into all her money.”

“Alec!” Mona Jackson was outraged. “Can’t you think of anything but money? You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Jackson shrugged.

“Don’t get so worked up... it’s not good for you.”

“The thieves broke into her safe. The safe’s the same as mine. If they can do that, they could have also stolen my jewellery!”

“Oh, for God’s sake! Your trinkets are perfectly safe.” Jackson reached for his glass. “Well, fancy Harry coming into all that money. Boy! He’ll be worth millions. I bet he’ll have himself a ball.”

“How can you be so callous? Lisa! Murdered!”

“Oh, come off it, Mona. You know you hated her! Only the other night you said she was a two-faced bitch.”

“Alec! Will you stop being disgusting? I want you to telephone David Hacket immediately and ask him to check my safe to see if my jewellery is still there.”

Jackson gaped at her.

“Of course it’s still there!”

“Will you telephone David Hacket or do I have to?”

Knowing from the expression on her face that there would be no peace for him if he didn’t telephone, Jackson groaned and heaved himself to his feet.

“Women!” he exclaimed bitterly. “David will think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t give a damn what he thinks! Tell him to go to the house and open the safe and call back.”

Jackson walked across the quay to the nearest telephone booth. After a little delay, he got through to David Hacket, the sales manager of Raysons’ safes. The two men played golf together most week-ends and they were good friends.

“David... this is Alec,” Jackson said. “Sorry to bother you with this, but Mona’s heard about Lisa Lewis’s robbery. She wants you to go out to our place and check the safe to see if her goddamn jewels are okay. Do you mind?”

There was a long pause, then Hacket said, “No, of course not. I’ll go right away. I... I hope they are safe.”

Jackson stiffened.

“What do you mean... hope they are safe?”

“You’ll read about it tomorrow, so you may as well know now. Another of our safes has been broken into. God knows how it was done. Mrs. Lowenstein has lost everything.”

“Good grief! If I tell Mona she’ll blow her stack. Look, David, will you get out there right away. Call me back as soon as you can. I’ll wait.” He gave the call booth’s number. “If Mona has lost her stuff... I don’t know how I’ll live with her!”

“I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

Jackson ordered a double whisky and soda and sat down to wait. An hour and a half later, Hacket called back.

“I’m sorry to tell you, Alec,” he said in a strained voice, “but you’ve been robbed... everything in the safe has gone.”

Johnny came out onto the terrace. He had thrown on a pair of slacks and a long-sleeved sweat shirt to hide the scratches on his arms. His hair was touselled and he needed a shave: he looked what he felt — a wreck.

At the sight of him, Martha cowered back in her chair.

“Keep away from me, you murderer!” she shrilled.

“Oh, shut up!” Johnny snarled. His eyes were uneasy and a nerve twitched by his mouth. “I didn’t do it! Get that into your thick skull. Do you hear me? I didn’t do it!”

“You’re a liar!” Martha screamed. “You went after that necklace. You were planning to gyp us! She caught you opening the safe and you killed her, you vicious, murdering sonofabitch!”

Henry said sharply, “Martha, please! Let me talk to Johnny.”

“Talk to him! He’s fixed us! Murder! I wish I had never set eyes on him!” Martha hid her face in her fat hands and began to moan.

Johnny came over to where Henry was sitting and stood over him.

“I didn’t do it,” he repeated, his voice unsteady. “I was with a woman all night. Ask Gilda... she knows. There was this woman after me. Gilda and I fell out. She left. This woman took me to her home.”

Henry looked at Gilda who was standing, white-faced, behind Johnny. She nodded.

“Who was this woman?” Henry asked.

“Her name’s Helene Booth... she’s a rich nympho. Her husband is in New York on a trip. She picked on me. I didn’t leave her place until close on four this morning,” Johnny said. “She was crazy. She hit me and scratched me up. That blood Martha saw was my blood!”

“He’s lying!” Martha screamed. “I don’t believe a word of what he says! He stole the necklace and killed that woman!”

Dabbing his sweating face with his silk handkerchief, Henry regarded Johnny.

“Is that the story you are going to tell the police if they catch up with you, Johnny?”

“Why not... it’s the truth!”

“Do you imagine a wealthy, married woman would support such a tale? Do you imagine she would admit sleeping with you?”

Johnny sat down. His legs seemed to collapse under him.

“I swear it’s the truth!”

“I believe you,” Gilda said, coming over to him and putting her hand on his shoulder. “I do believe you, Johnny.”

“You would, you besotted, stupid little fool!” Martha raged. “I warned you! He’s no good! He’s vicious! Now, he’s fixed us!”

“If you don’t shut your fat mouth, I’ll shut it for you!” Johnny shouted furiously.

“Yes! That’s right!” Martha yelled back. “Go ahead and kill me as you killed that woman!”

“Stop it!” Henry exclaimed. “Now, listen to me... we’re in one hell of a mess. I believe Johnny... I don’t think he killed this woman, but that doesn’t help us. There’s only one thing to do... we must get out of here fast! We have the money. We’ll split up. We’ll get out right away.”

Johnny regarded the old man’s white, frightened face, then he shook his head.

“No, that’s panic tactics,” he said steadily. “We have rented this villa for two more weeks. The rent’s paid. If we bolt now we put the searchlight of suspicion slap on us. That’s not the way to handle it. We’ve got to use our heads. I didn’t kill that woman, but someone did. Someone who knew how to open that very secret safe. What we’ve got to do is to find the killer.” He paused, then went on, “If the cops catch me, I go down for murder, but you three will go down with me. We’re all in this together whether you like it or not. So we stick right here.” He raised his hand as Martha began to say something. “You shut up! What you have to remember is that even if they suspect we have done this job, they can’t prove it! Before they can even arrest us, they have to have some kind of proof and we know we have left no clues nor fingerprints. We have to keep our nerve. We run now and they’ll come after us. We stick here for the next two weeks, taking it easy, living like people on a vacation, and we have a ninety-nine per cent chance of them never even investigating us. But there is one thing we have to do: we have to get our money out of here. If the cops search the place and find all that money, we are cooked!”

“I’m getting out!” Martha said violently. “I’m taking my money and I’m going!”

“You’re not!” Johnny shouted at her. “You’re putting your money in a safe deposit box and you’re staying right here.”

“Yes,” Henry said. “We run now, Martha, and we are really fixed. I can see that now. Our one hope is to bluff it out. Johnny’s right.”

Martha began to cry.

“This sonofabitch spoilt the nicest breakfast I’ve had in months,” she snivelled.

Johnny turned impatiently away from her.

“As soon as the bank opens, I’ll go down with the money.”

“You’re not touching my share!” Martha shrilled. “Do you think...”

“Oh, shut up!” Johnny half-started to his feet, then restrained himself. He turned to Henry. “You know what I think? I think that woman’s husband did it. Look what he stands to gain... all her money... millions. Who else beside us knew how to open the safe?”

“That doesn’t help us,” Henry pointed out.

“It could. I’m going to have this guy watched. It’s worth spending money on. I’m going to slick a team of private eyes on him. We can’t handle it... it’s a professional job.”

“Listen!” Gilda said sharply.

They heard the sound of an approaching car coming up the avenue, travelling at speed.

Johnny’s face tightened. He got to his feet.

“They couldn’t have got on to us this fast!” He walked quickly to the side of the terrace to peer over the balcony, looking down at the drive-in to the villa. He felt his heart skip a beat as a big black car swept through the open gateway and squealed to a stop outside the front door where he lost sight of it.

He turned, his face pale under its tan.

“Could be the cops,” he said. “If they find the money...”

They heard the front door bell ring. They heard Flo open the door and then heard her catch her breath in a surprised cry. As Johnny started across the terrace, Abe Schulman, followed by the gigantic Jumbo came out onto the terrace.

The unexpected sight of Abe startled the four. Abe’s face was shining with sweat and the colour of old tallow. He came across the terrace and dropped a brief-case on the table.

“There’s your stuff!” he said, his voice high pitched. “I want my money back! Come on... a hundred thousand! I want it now!”

There was a long pause. Henry and Martha looked at each other. Neither of them knew what to say, then Johnny came forward, his face hard, his eyes glittering.

“Are you crazy, Abe?” he said. “What money? What do you mean... our stuff?”

“Don’t give me that! I caught the six o’clock news. This is murder! I don’t go along with murder! The deal’s off! Give me my money back!”

“Deal? Money? What the hell are you talking about? We haven’t done a deal with you, Abe,” Johnny said quietly. “And what’s all this about murder?”

“This is something you don’t talk yourself out of,” Abe snarled. “This stuff...” he slapped the brief-case, “is red hot. No one will touch it and I’m not touching it! I want my money back!”

“What money? I don’t understand.”

Abe stared evilly at Johnny.

“Do you think you can bluff me, you small time creep?” he snarled. “I was in this racket before you were even a thought in your father’s mind! That’s one thing you don’t do! There’s the stuff! I don’t give a goddamn what you do with it! I do know you’re giving me my money back!”

Johnny reached for a cigarette from a box on the table. He lit it. Watching, Gilda saw that his hands were steady.

“Sorry, Abe... no deal. You bought the stuff... you’re stuck with it. Run away,” Johnny said.

“Is that your last word... it isn’t mine,” Abe said. “Are you going to be that stupid?”

“I said run away and take your black ape with you.”

“Okay, so now I’ll tell you something,” Abe said. “I’m leaving this stuff with you. I’m not going to get caught with it. This stuff is sheer dynamite. One thing I’ll never get hooked with is a murder rap. It’s so important to me not to get hooked with a murder rap, I’m ready to kiss one hundred thousand grand good-bye. But, my young, slick bluffer, I’ll tell you what I am going to do. When I leave here, I’m going to call the cops... an anonymous tip-off. I’ll tell them who stole the Esmaldi necklace and murdered Lisa Lewis. I’ll tell them who stole the Lowenstein’s and the Jacksons’ collections. Then when you have a swarm of tough cops in your lap, don’t kid yourself you can drag me into it. I haven’t got the stuff. You have. You can’t prove I’ve ever had it. Maybe you imagine you can bluff eight or nine tough bulls who’ll question you for hours and probably knock your slick teeth out of your slick mouth. If you think you can, so okay, then you stick to my money, but if you don’t think you can, give me my money!”

“The cops have nothing on us,” Johnny said. “You don’t bluff me, Abe. Beat it!”

“They have nothing on you?” Abe said and showed his small, yellow teeth. “I’ll tell you what they will have on you: they’ll find out you once worked for Raysons’ safes. They’ll find out you have a record for violence and a prison record. They’ll find out Martha has served five years for jewel robbery. They’ll find out Henry has been in a cell for fifteen years. Can you imagine that fat old woman standing up under hours of tough cop interrogation? Can you imagine the Colonel standing up to the same treatment? Can you imagine yourself — tough as you think you are — taking a police beating while they question you? I’m not bluffing, my young creep. I want my money back or I make a phone call.”

Johnny’s eyes turned vicious.

“I could kill you, Abe and your black ape, couldn’t I?”

“Go ahead and try,” Abe said, grinning. “See where it gets you. Where’s my money?”

Johnny stubbed out his cigarette. He hesitated for a long moment, then looking at Henry, he shrugged.

“So the Jew gets his money,” he said.

Around midday, as the last of the plain-clothes officers were leaving the Lewis’s residence, a sleek Cadillac pulled up outside the front entrance and Warren Weidman, Lisa’s attorney, got out. He walked past the last of the detectives as they came down the steps without looking at them. Warren Weidman regarded policemen as servants of the public: men who served a purpose, but who were of no consequence. Police Chief Terrell with whom he was on speaking terms, had long gone.

Warren Weidman was a tall, heavily-built man with a whisky complexion and all the signs of liking luxury living. Immaculately dressed in a dark suit, he was wearing a black tie which his secretary had provided to replace the silver grey tie with a small horse’s head in red in the centre. When Weidman was not at his desk, he was usually to be found either in some plush restaurant or on the racecourse.

To-To who knew him well, led him silently to Harry’s study, knocked and opened the door.

Weidman entered to find Harry sitting slumped in an armchair, smoking, a glass of whisky at his elbow.

Since the news had broken, the telephone had rung ceaselessly. All Lisa’s so-called friends were offering condolences. Harry’s own personal friends, now they realised he would be one of the richest men in the world, also rang him. Finally, Harry could stand it no longer and had told the telephone operator to route all calls to his office. He doubted if Miss Bernstein could cope with the sudden telephone traffic, but he didn’t care. When he told her what to expect, she sounded hysterical, and he decided the first thing he would do when the dust settled would be to get rid of her. This gave him slight satisfaction, but he was still in shock and felt wretched.

He couldn’t believe that Lisa was up there in her bedroom, dead and battered into something Terrell had said he shouldn’t sec. He had never loved Lisa, but he had pitied her. What a death! he kept thinking. For some vicious thug to have, crept into her room and smashed a bronze statue down on her face while she was sleeping, defenceless, and to have kept on hitting that poor, pain-ridden unattractive face until she was dead. The thought turned Harry’s stomach.

He had been sitting in the chair now for three hours, listening to the tramp of feet overhead and down the stairs and along the corridors of his home, to the sound of hushed men’s voices who didn’t give a damn about Lisa but who only thought of the killer.

A savage and brutal murder, Terrell had said. If an experienced police officer talked like that, Harry cringed to think what had happened to her.

When he heard a tap on the door and the door swung open, he stiffened and sat upright.

Weidman came quietly into the room.

“My dear fellow,” he said in his melodious tones, coming over to Harry. “I can’t tell you... shocking... I came as quickly as I could. I am entirely at your service.” He put down a bulky brief-case and sat in a chair opposite Harry. “Is there anything you want me to do?”

Harry had never liked Weidman although he knew him to be a shrewd and brilliant attorney. He shook his head.

“No, nothing right now. I... I... well, I’m trying to adjust myself. Could we meet later? I’m in a complete mental mess right now.”

“Of course.” Weidman shifted his large body more firmly into the armchair. “I understand completely, but there are one or two things of importance we will have to attend to.” He gave his quick, sympathetic, professional smile. “There’s the Esmaldi necklace. I must put in an immediate claim. It’s worth three hundred and fifty thousand and it is fully insured. As you know it has been willed to the Fine Arts Museum, Washington. There is a little problem there to sort out. We must put in a claim at once. May I go ahead?”

“Do whatever you like,” Harry said indifferently. He wanted this well-fed looking man to leave him alone.

“Then there’s the funeral. Mrs. Lewis desired to be cremated. I will attend to all the details if you wish me to do so.”

“Yes.”

“Then there’s the will, Mr. Lewis.”

Harry felt he couldn’t bear any more of this. He waved his hand impatiently.

“We can go into all that later, can’t we?”

“Of course, but I think you might want to know, Mr. Lewis, that everything comes to you... everything. The chain of stores, the house, all the estate, the stocks and bonds, the yacht... everything. Mrs. Lewis has left it to you to make bequests to anyone you think deserves them... Miss Helgar, To-To, the rest of the staff and anyone else you might have in mind.”

Harry stared at Weidman.

“Everything to me?” he repeated, and he felt a wave of emotion run through him so that he had to fight against tears.

So Lisa in spite of her bitchy ways, in spite of her temper, in spite of her jealousy, must have loved him. She wouldn’t have left everything to him like that unless she had really loved him.

“Yes.” Seeing Harry’s distress, Weidman got to his feet. “We can go over all this later, Mr. Lewis. I’ll leave you now. I understand your feelings. Please accept my deepest sympathy.” He started for the door, then paused, “Oh, there is one little thing I should mention.”

Harry nearly screamed to him to get out, but he controlled himself.

“What is it?”

“Mrs. Lewis has stipulated in the will that should you marry again, ninety-nine per cent of the whole of the estate goes to the San Francisco Institute for Cripples.” Weidman smiled his professional smile. “But, I don’t suppose, Mr. Lewis, you contemplate marrying again?”

Harry sat for a long moment, scarcely believing what he had been told. Then he felt a cold rush of blood up his spine. His emotional feelings for Lisa went away like a smear wiped off a wall.

“Does that mean I can’t ever marry again?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Why, of course you can, Mr. Lewis.” It was at this moment that Harry realised that Weidman disliked him as much as he disliked Weidman. “Naturally, you are free to do whatever you wish. However, if you do marry again, you then are left with the Florida Development Trust which, I believe, you are now handling and the rest of the estate — all of the estate, Mr. Lewis — goes to the Institute.”

“Are you serious?” Harry demanded. “Are you telling me I can never marry again without losing all the estate?”

“That is correct.”

“But this is damnable!” Harry jumped to his feet. “Can’t we fight it? It’s inhuman!”

“Something like two hundred million dollars would be involved, Mr. Lewis,” Weidman said. “The Institute have very powerful, political backing. The terms of the will are explicit. Yes, of course, we could attempt to fight it, but I very much doubt if we would succeed.” He regarded Harry, his shrewd eyes quizzing. “But at the moment, you don’t wish to remarry?”

“Please go,” Harry said and dropped into his chair. “I’ll discuss this later.”

When the Cadillac had driven away, Harry slammed his clenched fists together.

You bitch! he thought. You bloody minded, hateful cripple! So you’ve fixed me! You’ve condemned me to a life of mistresses! No children! So you deserved what you got! You bitch! You deserved to have the terror of such a death!

He hid his face in his hands and began to sob, his body shaking, uncontrolled, his nerves broken by the horror of this day.

Steve Harmas, Chief Investigator of a group of investigators working for the National Fidelity Insurance Co., wandered into Patty Shaw’s office. He was a tall, ugly-looking man with a cheerful grin and a needle sharp brain.

Patty Shaw, Maddox’s secretary, paused in her typing. Blonde and pretty, she was generally liked by all the male staff. She was not only smart, but helpful. Harmas claimed, second to his wife, she was his favourite woman.

“Hi,” he said, coming to rest at her desk. “What’s cooking?”

Patty flicked her fingers at Maddox’s office door.

“He’s been screaming for you for the past half hour.”

Harmas grimaced.

“What’s eating him then? It’s not yet ten o’clock.”

“What you don’t seem ever to remember is he’s always at his desk at eight o’clock.”

“Can I help it if he is crazy? So he wants me?”

“An understatement. You’d better take your anti-bear bite ointment in with you. He’s acting as if a hornet has goosed him.”

“Miss Shaw! What a way to talk!” Harmas grinned, crossed the room, tapped on Maddox’s door and entered.

As usual, Maddox was crouched over his desk which was littered with papers, policies and letters. His thinning grey hair was rumpled and his red face was screwed into a scowl. Maddox wasn’t a big man although he looked big from behind the shelter of his desk. He had the shoulders of a boxer and the legs of a midget. His eyes were cold, ruthless and restless. He wore his expensive suit anyhow. Cigarette ash rained down on his shirt front and his coat sleeves. He had a habit of constantly running his stubby fingers through his hair which added to his dishevelled appearance.

“I’ve been waiting for you!” he barked, sitting back in his desk chair. “It’s ten o’clock! Don’t you ever do any work around here?”

Harmas folded himself into a chair and lit a cigarette.

“I was on that Johnson drag until two this morning,” he said. “My wife insists I get some sleep.”

Maddox snorted. Regarded as the best and most brilliant claims assessor in the insurance business, he was aware of his position and drove his investigators hard, although he didn’t cut any ice with Harmas who was also regarded as the best investigator in the business and who believed in taking life as easily as he could.

“Seen this?”

Maddox tossed a Telex over to Harmas.

“What’s up now?”

“Read it!”

Harmas read the Telex from Alan Frisby, their agent in Paradise City. As he read, he slowly sat upright. The lethargic expression on his face changed to alertness.

“Well, for crying out loud!” he exclaimed, dropping the Telex on the desk. “The Esmaldi diamonds! How the hell could they have got at them from a Raysons’ safe?”

“They got at them!” Maddox said grimly. “This is going to set us back three hundred and fifty thousand unless we find them. I want you to go down there right away. This is a calculated, cleverly planned steal. Three of Raysons’ safes have been opened. We don’t have to worry about the Lowensteins’ nor the Jacksons’ steals... we don’t cover them. The steal forms a pattern. Talk to Hacket first. See what explanation he has to offer. We made a deal with Mrs. Lewis to reduce her premium if she kept the necklace in her safe because we knew the safe was burglar proof. Yet someone has opened it. Someone who must have known how to turn off the hidden alarm. Who is this someone? They have a good police chief down there... Terrell, but this is out of his class. I want you to work with him, and dig, and keep digging. I’m not paying out until I am sure I have to, so you have to work fast. Any moment I’ll be saddled with a claim for this necklace. I’m not paying unless I damn well have to and if I have to, you’ll be sorry!”

Harmas kept his face straight and nodded gravely. He had had this threat thrown at him so often it had become a joke. He wasn’t scared of Maddox, but he let Maddox imagine he was.

“Okay,” he said and climbed out of his chair. “Any suggestions?”

Maddox ran his fingers through his hair.

“Until I know different,” he said, “there are only two outsiders who know how to open those safes: David Hacket and the man who fitted the safe.”

“How about Hacket’s secretary who must have access to his files?”

Maddox nodded.

“That’s right. A boy-friend could have got at her. You’re thinking on the right lines. All these people must be put under a microscope, but I don’t really dig for this. To me, this smells like a professional job. No fingerprints: no clues. Even if an amateur found out how to open the safes, how did he break into the houses without leaving a trace? All the same, Steve, you have to check these people. I still think this is an operation by a clever jewel gang who somehow has got hold of inside information.”

“Could be one of them played up to Hacket’s secretary and got the information out of her? You don’t really think Hacket himself did the job?”

“Why not? Everyone of these people I’ve mentioned are suspects,” Maddox growled. “The total take is close on a million dollars.”

“But the Esmaldi necklace,” Harmas said thoughtfully. “How do you sell a necklace as well known as that? Do you think they will break it up?”

“If they did, it would lose half its value. Could be they have found a crooked private dealer or a crazy collector. I don’t know... could be that.”

“Well, okay, I’ll get down there and I’ll call you when I have found something.”

“Two other points for you to keep in mind,” Maddox said. “The woman’s been murdered. The husband comes into all her money. Let’s be sure this isn’t a smoke screen to cover her killing.” Seeing Harmas’ startled expression, Maddox went on, “Oh, I know. Sounds crazy, but I’ve known husbands who have set the stage to look like robbery and then murdered their wives. Keep your eye on Lewis. The second point is tell Terrell to check over the fences in the district. There’s Abe Schulman and Bernie Baum in Miami. Get him to put those two punks through the wringer.”

“Okay.”

Harmas left the office and paused by Patty’s desk.

“Envy me,” he said, smiling at her. “I’m off to Paradise City.”

Patty rolled her big eyes.

“Lucky you. Be good, Steve... remember you’re a married man.”

Harmas grinned.

“No chance of forgetting it. See you...” and he left her, moving swiftly, taking the stairs down to the ground level two at the time. He drove home to collect a suitcase.

Captain Terrell shifted back in his chair and reached for his carton of coffee. Sitting opposite him was Sergeant Hess of Homicide and Sergeant Joe Beigler, a big, freckled-faced man who was Terrell’s top sergeant.

“Well, we’ve certainly got a mess in our laps,” Terrell said. “This is an organised gang steal, plus murder.”

“What foxes me is that the Raysons’ safes are supposed to be burglar proof,” Beigler said, lighting a cigarette. He was seldom without a cigarette in his mouth. “They are burglar proof unless someone finds out how they operate, then they are dead easy. The Raysons people keep a strict security. So... we now have the staff at Raysons as possible suspects. There’s Hacket, the sales manager, Joleson who fits the safes and Hacket’s secretary, Dina Lowes who has access to the files. Any one of them could have done the job or sold their information to a gang who might have done the job. We’ve already checked on Joleson: he’s on vacation on a cruise, but he could have sold the information. Hacket was at the Country Club until two o’clock and then went home with his wife. But he too could have sold the information. Miss Lowes has a boy-friend who she wants to marry. We’ve checked him... seems okay, but she could have accepted a big bribe so they could get married fast.”

There came a tap on the door and Detective Second Grade Tom Lepski came in. Lepski was one of Terrell’s best detectives: a tall, wiry man regarded by his colleagues as a bit of a hellion, always kicking against discipline, but first-class in his job.

“I’ve got a lead, Chief,” he said, coming to rest before Terrell’s desk. His thin, hawk-like face was animated. “Our first important break. There are eighteen Raysons’ safes in this City and I’ve been checking every one of them.”

Terrell waved to a chair.

“Sit down, Tom... have some coffee.”

Beigler, a coffee addict, poured some coffee into a spare paper cup.

“I visited Warren Crail’s house,” Lepski said, reaching for one of Beiglers’ cigarettes. “That was my fifth call. I was asking if there had been anyone calling who wasn’t in the picture... some stranger asking questions. The housekeeper there is sharp. She told me a girl had called from the Acme Carpet Cleaning Co., saying Mrs. Crail wanted an estimate for cleaning her carpets. The housekeeper wouldn’t let the girl in. This sounded to me like a possible gag so I checked the phone book... no Acme Carpet Cleaning Co. I drove over to Mrs. Lowenstein’s place. The butler tells me that a girl from this carpet cleaning firm called and he let her in. She measured the carpet in the room where the safe is. So I checked with Mrs. Jackson’s caretaker... the same girl’s been there.” He flicked open his notebook. “Here’s her description: slightly built, black hair, wearing heavy sun goggles she didn’t once take off, age around twenty-five, possibly younger, dressed in a blue frock with white collar and cuffs.” Lepski closed his notebook. “The description doesn’t vary: the housekeeper, the butler and the caretaker all give the same exact description... and here’s the important lead: they all say the girl was driving a white Opel car, but none of them, of course, got the licence number.” Lepski sat back and regarded Terrell, obviously waiting for praise.

“Nice work, Tom,” Terrell said automatically. “This girl must be one of the gang. Right, at least, we now have something to work on. We’re not giving this to the press. Could be the gang is still here. If we give a description of the girl, they could bolt. We have to find this white Opel. I want the names and addresses of every owner of this type of car in the district and don’t forget the hire car services. That’s our first move.” He was now talking to Hess. “Get four or five of your men on this right away, Fred. There can’t be all that number of white Opels in the city, but to make sure, we’ll call the Miami police and rope them in. This gang might be operating from Miami.”

Hess nodded and left the office.

Terrell thought for a long moment.

“I don’t see what we can do about this girl for the moment. At least we know there’s a young girl with this gang. Tom, I want you to go to all the real estate agents and find out if any villa has been let within the past month and if rented by a group of people, one of them a girl around twenty-five. This is a long shot, but it could pay off. Then I want some of our men to check all the hotels. I want a list of those people who haven’t been in Paradise City before. The hotel will know their regulars. Check with the hotel dicks.”

Lepski got to his feet.

“Okay, Chief,” he said, and leaving Terrell and Beigler together, he went down the stairs to his car.