Cut Thin to Win

Chapter 16

From the nearest public phone booth I called the night number Essex had given me.

His voice sounded sleepy.

“Wake up,” I said. “The fat’s in the fire.”

“What do you mean?”

I said, “Minerva is on the warpath. She’s grabbed every trump in the deck.”

“Damn it, Lam,” he said, irritably, “I told you to keep away from her and—”

“I kept away from her,” I said. “She was the one who picked up my trail and ran me down.”

“Well, you don’t have to talk to her.”

“It isn’t anything I’ll say,” I told him. “It’s what Mrs. Chester’s saying.”

“What Mrs... WHO? Who did you say?”

“I said Mrs. Chester.”

“She’s in Mexico.”

“That’s what you think. She came to try and blackmail me, and Minny moved in on the deal.”

“Where is Mrs. Chester now?”

“Talking with Minerva Badger and Minerva Badger’s attorney,” I said.

“Oh, my God,” he said, in a voice that was almost a wail. Then after a moment, he said, “That’s the end of the line, we’re ruined.”

“You give up?” I asked.

“If she’s got Mrs. Chester,” Essex said, “we might just as well throw in the towel.”

“All right,” I told him, “call up your client, tell him to get under cover and not to do any talking.”

“I’ll come to Las Vegas at once,” he assured me, “and—”

“And you’ll be arrested if you do,” I told him. “Minerva’s lawyer has got political power here. She picked the best.”

“What should I do?” he asked.

“From the way you sound, I think you’d better take a vacation,” I told him. “You sound all run down. Evidently you’re not accustomed to having the roof fall in on you. You’d better be unavailable for comment.”

“And you’re going to get out, too?”

“Hell, no,” I told him, “I’m in the stew. I’m going to stay here and face the music. There’s just one chance in a hundred I can salvage something.”

“If you can salvage anything, you can write your own ticket,” he said. “My Lord, I had no idea anything like this could happen — I suppose I’m in it now.”

“You’re in it now,” I told him.

“We’ll buy her off,” Essex said, after a moment, with a note of hope in his voice. “After all, it’s a question of money and with our careers at stake—”

“How much money has your client got?” I asked.

“Plenty.”

“And is he willing to give every cent of it to Minerva?”

“Good heavens, it wouldn’t be that bad. Even if she could prove infidelity, it—”

“She isn’t monkeying with infidelity now,” I interrupted. “She’s playing with murder.”

“Well,” said Essex after a moment, “my client has got himself into this. I did the best I could for him. If he gets caught, he’s going to have to pay. He gambled, and if he loses, that’s a chance he has to take.”

“How much money have you got?” I asked.

“Me?” he asked. “What’s that got to do with it?”

“Don’t underestimate Minerva,” I said.

“Why... why you can’t mean—”

“Look up your statutes on murder,” I said. “See what the law says about an accessory after the fact.”

It took a moment for that to sink in.

“Oh, my God,” he said.

I hung up the telephone.