Sand on the Gumshoe

CHAPTER ONE

The face under the fez was sad and drooping – a thinker’s face. He had plenty of time to think while he sat there cross-legged, thumping out a steady beat on the drum with the flat of his right hand. On the small wooden platform, four dames stepped backwards and forwards rhythmically. They wore veils, silk jackets and pants, and slippers.

The barker stepped forward and cleared his throat. ‘Walk up!’ he shouted in a metallic voice. ‘Walk up! Walk up! See the sirens of the East! See the four genuine harem girls. See the dance of the seven veils! See…’ His voice faded as I walked away.

Further down the lane was death-defying Deane, preparing to ride the wall of death for the fourth time that day. Then there was the woman with two heads, the fat lady, the human skeleton – they were all there.

I went almost to the end of the row and there was the sign – Mollo, the magician. The barker was in full gallop. ‘Mollo’s magic will delight you, thrill you, terrify you! You will be mystified, horrified, terrified! You won’t believe your eyes! See the beautiful girl turned to stone! See the paper dolls come to life! See…’

I walked past him, paid my quarter and ducked under the curtain. There weren’t any more than ten people inside, patiently waiting for the show to start. I took a seat in the front row and lit a cigarette. The dark blue curtain across the front of the stage had the signs of the zodiac painted in faded gold all over it. A couple more people drifted in and then the show started.

It wasn’t a bad show – it wasn’t good, either. The best thing about it was Mollo’s assistant. She was a brunette with wistful eyes and a perfect figure. Mollo was a little guy with long black hair and a wisp of black moustache. He didn’t seem to care whether the audience liked the show or not – maybe there weren’t enough of them to matter.

But when it was finished, he came back on stage and bowed to the smattering of applause. The curtain came down and the people filed out. All except me. I stayed. I lit another cigarette and waited.

After a while, the barker walked in. He looked at me. ‘The show is over, bud,’ he said. ‘You’ve got to pay if you want to see it again.’

I flipped him a quarter. He looked at me curiously, then climbed up to the stage, ducked behind the curtain and disappeared. A minute later Mollo came out. He looked at me curiously, too.

‘I hope you don’t mind my staring,’ he said in a cultured voice that was tinged with sarcasm, ‘but this is the first time that anyone has ever paid twice to see my show!’

‘Yeah?’ I raised by eyebrows.

‘I feel flattered,’ he said.

‘You needn’t be,’ I told him, ‘it was the dame I wanted to see.’

‘Oh?’ The sardonic gleam was still in his eyes. ‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m afraid she never talks to a member of the audience – never!’

I flicked ash onto the floor. ‘How is Ivy these days?’ I asked him. ‘Still peddling dope on the side for a fast buck?’

His eyebrows came together. ‘I’m sorry – I don’t follow you.’

‘You don’t have to,’ I said. ‘Just tell Ivy that Rex Kaufman wants to say hullo.’

‘Very well,’ he bowed and withdrew between the curtains.

Ivy came out a few seconds later. ‘Why, Rex!’ She made it sound enthusiastic. ‘How are you?’

‘Fine,’ I said, ‘just fine.’ She was still in her costume and she looked very nice. ‘How are you keeping these days?’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m making out – just. But what with four shows a day, my feet are just killing me!’

‘If anyone could make a fast buck, you could,’ I told her. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve turned honest?’

‘I have, Rex,’ she said seriously. ‘I learned my lesson the last time. If you hadn’t squared things with the cops for me, I’d still have been in gaol right now. Never again!’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ I grinned at her, ‘even if I don’t believe it. How about me buying you a cup of coffee?’

‘I’d love to, Rex,’ her big blue eyes shone at me, ‘but I’ve got another show in twenty minutes – sorry.’

‘That’s the last one, isn’t it?’

‘That’s right, she agreed.

‘Then I’ll buy you a cup of coffee after that. I’ll wait outside for you.’

‘But, I…’

‘You’ve got time for a cup of coffee,’ I told her. I’ll see you after the last show!’

I walked out, wondering if I should ask the barker for my quarter back, then thought it looked as if they were having a tough time, anyway. I went and saw the harem girls. At close quarters, they could have been called the harem mothers to advantage. The trouble with me is that I’ve got no illusions left.

When the show was over, I strolled back and waited outside Mollo’s sideshow. I waited a quarter of an hour, then Ivy came out. She looked good. Ivy always looked good, I remembered. I drove downtown to where the lights were brighter and we stopped for coffee in a joint that didn’t put cloths on the tables, but they made good coffee.

‘How’s the private eye business these days, Rex?’ Ivy asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. ‘It could be better, but I’m not starving.’ I drank some coffee. ‘How is Mollo’s show doing?’

She wrinkled her nose again. ‘I don’t think he’ll stay in business much longer. We average about fifteen a show – that’s not quite four bucks, gross!’

‘Does it worry you if it folds?’

‘I’ve got to earn a living,’ she told me, ‘it’s not easy.’ She reached out her arm and flicked ash into the ashtray. Then she looked at me suddenly and grinned. ‘Come clean, Rex,’ she said softly. ‘You didn’t look me up just to buy me a cup of coffee – or even just to look into my bright blue eyes! What’s on your mind?’

I hesitated for a moment. ‘You really sure you’re clear of the rackets now?’

‘Of course I am!’ she said indignantly. ‘I told you I had learned my lesson!’

‘Okay, Ivy,’ I said, ‘only there’s a nice racket being worked in the carnival show and I’m interested.’

‘Oh? She looked interested. ‘What is it?’

‘I don’t know,’ I admitted.

Ivy looked blank. ‘You don’t even know what it is? How do you know there is a racket?’

‘There must be,’ I said. ‘You just told me that Mollo is averaging four bucks a show – four shows a day makes it sixteen bucks. He can’t pay expenses on that! I spent yesterday and today at the carnival. I’ve been to about a dozen sideshows all told. They’re all the same – fifteen suckers inside the tent and they’re doing well!’

‘So?’

‘So where is the pay-off?’ I said. ‘They all lose dough, but they all stay there.’

She shook her head. ‘I think you’re imagining things, Rex. I don’t think there are any rackets. Things have been tough lately, that’s all. People stick there because it’s a permanent site and the rents are cheap. If carnival is doing badly here, it’s probably doing badly all over the country at the moment.’

I grinned at her. ‘You could be right, but I don’t think so. Anyway, keep your eyes open, will you? If anything looks funny, let me know.’ I took one of my cards out of my wallet and gave it to her. ‘Just in case you’ve forgotten the phone number.’

‘I’ll keep my eyes open, of course, Rex,’ she said, ‘but I think you’re wasting your time. Who’s your client, anyway?’

‘Client?’ I said. ‘Who said anything about a client?’

‘You wouldn’t be working for free,’ she dimpled, ‘that’s for sure. I imagine, for a private eye, you come expensive, Rex.’

After we’d finished the coffee I offered to drive her home, but she said she had to call on a girl friend, so I drove myself home – which wasn’t half so interesting.

I got myself a drink when I got home and sat down at the table and thought how far I’d got with the case. I came up with a snap decision of… nowhere. I’d seen the district attorney that morning. My face was still red remembering how it had gone.

His office was neat and very plush. The district attorney is around forty, the right type in looks but not in brains. He’s strictly a political appointment – they could have chosen a more suitable man with their eyes shut.

He gave me a sour look as soon as I got into his office. ‘I can give you ten minutes, Kaufman,’ he said. Then he put his watch on the desk.

‘It’s about the carnival lot,’ I started to say.

‘What about it?’ he snapped.

I took a deep breath and tried to keep my voice polite. ‘There is something going on there, sir. Something illegal.’

‘Such as?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said.

He bristled. ‘Is this your idea of a joke, Kaufman? Wasting my time like this?’

‘No sir,’ I said.

He wagged his index finger at me. ‘Now look here, Kaufman. You’re a private detective – your licence is issued from this office, don’t forget. I appreciate you are working for a client and obviously your client in this case is Dusberg. Dusberg owns that carnival lot!’

‘That is quite correct, sir,’ I said. ‘But the thing is that the people who have shows there are losing money. I’ve checked it, sir. They don’t make enough to keep them in food alone – yet they stay on!’

‘Rubbish!’ he snorted.

I kept my temper with an effort. ‘If you could carry out an investigation – even a small one – you’d find out that I’m telling the truth, sir. Why do they persist in staying there when they don’t earn sufficient money legitimately from the sideshows? I would say they’re making it illegitimately somehow!’

He gave me his conceited look. ‘Look, Kaufman, don’t take me for a fool! I know that the carnival lot if converted to real estate could make Dusberg a small fortune. It’s highly valuable land. I also know the only way Dusberg can get rid of the carnival people is by having the law close the place down. I don’t particularly blame you for trying to think up something but please don’t waste my time!’

I looked him in the eyes. ‘You won’t carry out an investigation?’

‘Certainly not!’ he snapped. ‘It would be a criminal waste of public funds! The carnival people are law-abiding – there’s never any trouble down there. You had better think up something better than this, Kaufman!’ He looked down at his watch. ‘And your ten minutes are very nearly up!’

I got up from my chair. ‘I won’t waste my time any longer,’ I told him. ‘It’s quite obvious that I’m wasting my breath!’

Looking back on it, the interview had hit an all-time low. The district attorney was quite right about my client, of course – he was Dusberg and Dusberg wanted to get rid of the carnival people so that he could sell the land and clean up. On the other hand, I hadn’t been lying to the district attorney, either. As I’d told Ivy, everyone seemed to be losing money – but they all still stuck there. I didn’t get it.

Thinking of Ivy, I got another drink and thought some more. I had been working on a dope case six months back and Ivy had been one of the peddlers. She’d only been a pawn in the game and I’d managed to see that she didn’t get arrested with the others. She’d sworn undying gratitude, kissed me hard and told me that from then on she was a reformed character. I hadn’t seen her since, until tonight, it was a lucky break that someone else who knew her had mentioned casually they had seen her helping Mollo to perform his magic.

CHAPTER TWO

I was in the office pretty early the next morning. I had a report to type for an insurance job I’d just finished and I didn’t get paid until the report was in. I finished it around eleven, put the typewriter away and was debating where I’d have a drink, when she walked in.

She gave me a slow smile. ‘Mr Kaufman?’ she asked.

‘That’s right,’ I agreed and goggled at her. ‘Won’t you sit down?’

‘Thank you.’ She sat down gracefully in the visitor’s chair and then crossed her legs. She was blonde with an urchin-cut which left her hair in tight curls close to her head. It suited her beautifully. She was wearing a grey suit, perfectly cut, with a grey sweater underneath. Long pearl earrings hung from her ears.

‘I’m Lucinda Brent,’ she said. ‘I was hoping you could help me.’

‘That’s my business,’ I told her. ‘Why do you need help?’

‘It’s my husband,’ she said simply.

I shook my head. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Brent. I don’t handle divorce cases at all. I could tell you a couple of guys who could probably help you.’

‘It’s nothing to do with divorce,’ she said, ‘my husband is missing. I want him found.’

That was different. She smiled at me. ‘I know you are going to ask me have I been to the police or the missing persons bureau – and the answer is, I haven’t and I don’t want to.’

‘Why?’ I asked her bluntly.

‘I may as well be frank, Mr Kaufman,’ she said. ‘I think my husband makes his money in a dubious manner, to say the least. That is why I won’t go to the police or the bureau. I am wholly dependent on my husband for income and I’ve never queried where that income is earned – or how it is earned.’

I nodded. ‘I appreciate your point. If you’re hiring me to find your husband, I’ll do my best to find him. So far as I’m concerned, how he earns his money is beside the point. I take it you only want him found?’

She looked happier. ‘That’s it, exactly, Mr Kaufman! John and I do not get along very well together. I may as well tell you this now – we haven’t lived together for the last year or so. He provides me with a generous income and has never even mentioned divorce. I’ve no reason to want a divorce, either.’

‘I see,’ I said. I didn’t.

‘Regularly every week he calls on me and gives me my allowance,’ she continued, ‘but for the last three weeks I haven’t set eyes on him. It has never happened before and I’m worried. I feel something must have happened to him.’

The more she talked, the less I liked it. ‘What makes you think he doesn’t earn his money honestly?’ I asked her.

‘He hasn’t got an office, he never goes to work at regular hours. He never mentioned who he works with, where he worked or what he did. From the day we were married, I never knew. He wouldn’t answer my questions and just shouted at me if I kept on with them.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘So the only conclusion I could come to was that it was something dishonest.’

I stubbed the cigarette in the ashtray. ‘It doesn’t sound as if it’s going to be easy,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start looking. For all we know, he could be anywhere in the country. You need a large organisation to find a missing person, Mrs Brent. The bureau is the logical place to go to.’

‘But I can’t go to the bureau,’ she said anxiously. ‘I’ve just told you why!’

I thought I had enough troubles without taking on her troubles. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘but if I took your money, I’d just be robbing you. I wouldn’t know where to start looking for him.’

‘I could help you there,’ she said hopefully.

‘How?’ I asked.

‘I didn’t live with John for two years without knowing anything about where he went,’ she said. ‘I never knew what he did, but men are careless – they leave things in the pockets of suits that are going to the cleaners. Things like that.’

‘Such as?’ I prompted.

‘Hatcheck stubs from a nightclub – there were quite a few of those. All from the same place – the Green Dragon. Then there was a receipt once. It was for two hundred dollars and it was signed by a man named Tyson. It had a rubber-stamped address underneath it – Harem Girl’s Hall.’ She smiled wryly. ‘I thought the worst about that, so I checked on it. Guess where it was?’

‘The carnival ground,’ I said softly.

She nodded. ‘You’ve seen it?’

‘You’ve got nothing to worry about,’ I said, ‘all those girls are old enough to be your mother!’

‘It might have been an odd visit there, of course,’ she said. ‘I’m just telling you everything I can think of.’

‘You’re doing fine,’ I told her. ‘Keep going.’

She pulled a rueful face. ‘I’m afraid there isn’t much else. There was a name scribbled on the back of a blank card once. Cielli was the name. That’s about all I can think of.’

So far as I was concerned, the mention of the carnival ground was enough. ‘It looks a lot better even now,’ I told her. ‘Those could be definite leads. I’ll take the job, Mrs Brent, if you still want me to.’

‘Please!’ She smiled happily. ‘The question of money?’

I shook my head. ‘Not at the moment. I’m already working on a case for someone else and I’d rather charge you as I get results. You could give me twenty dollars for expenses and we’ll see how I get on.’

She fumbled in her purse and produced a roll of notes. She took two tens from the outside and handled them to me. I put them in my wallet and wrote her out a receipt.

‘Have you a photograph of your husband?’ I asked her.

She shook her head. ‘John would never have his photograph taken. I can give you a description of him. He’s just over six feet tall, weighs around one hundred and eighty. Aged thirty-five. Dark hair and a thin black moustache. Blue eyes. Quite good-looking, really, and he always dresses very smartly. He has a scar across the knuckles of his left hand.’

I wrote it all down. ‘That sounds pretty good,’ I said. ‘Where can I get in touch with you?’

She gave me her address and phone number. ‘I’ll do my best, Mrs Brent,’ I told her.

‘I’m sure you will. Thank you again, Mr Kaufman.’ Then she left.

I went out and had some lunch, mailed my insurance report and then went down to the carnival ground again. I was getting sick and tired of the place. I’d seen practically every sideshow there was to see, I’d fired rifles with crooked barrels at moving targets, I’d eaten candy and even tried the rasberry-coloured soft drink they sold.

I ambled along to the harem girls. I watched them sway automatically to the beat of the drum, heard the barker talk himself hoarse and saw maybe a dozen people pay their quarter and go inside. The barker went inside and the thinker in the fez still sat there moodily and gazed into nothing.

I walked up to him. ‘You look tired,’ I said conversationally.

He focused on me slowly. ‘I am tired,’ he agreed. His voice was thin and reedy.

‘How’s business?’ I asked him.

‘Very quiet,’ he told me.

‘You want some new girls,’ I suggested, ‘young ones.’

He nodded gloomily. ‘Don’t I know it! But they cost too much. The only dames who’ll come and work for the dough we pay are the ones who are too old to get a job in the chorus or burlesque any more. So we don’t have any choice.’

‘I wonder you stick it out,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you quit?’

He gave the drum a hard slap. ‘Can’t afford to,’ he said, ‘don’t know anything else.’

‘But the guy who owns the business,’ I said, ‘surely he can’t afford to go on losing dough the whole time?’

‘I own the business,’ he said. ‘Used-to do my own barking until my voice gave out – so now I beat the drum. It saves me paying somebody else to do it.’

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Well, why don’t you quit?’

‘It isn’t as bad as that,’ he said. ‘I can eat on what the show pulls in.’

‘That’s something, anyway,’ I agreed. ‘Say, your name Tyson?’

‘That’s right.’

I tried to look pleasantly surprised. ‘That’s a coincidence, if there ever was one!’ I said heartily. ‘You know a friend of mine, Johnny Brent.’

‘I’ve never heard of him,’ he said coldly.

I looked puzzled. ‘I don’t get it.’ I said. ‘Johnny told me he comes to your show quite a lot. He told me the guy who owned it, a guy named Tyson, was a particular friend of his.’

The little guy stood up and picked up his drum. ‘You must have the wrong Tyson,’ he said brusquely and went inside the tent.

I stood there for a moment, looking after him, then I went along the lane slowly. Somebody jostled me, their elbow thudding into my ribs so that I staggered a couple of paces before I regained my balance.

The next moment something hit me across the back of the neck and I stumbled onto my knees. ‘I don’t like guys who pick fights!’ a voice behind me said loudly.

The first guy came in and I saw his boot riding toward my jaw. I managed to dodge it and it whistled past my ear. I got to my feet and saw the second one. He was short and squat with long arms. The two of them came at me, grinning nastily.

I dived my hand inside my coat and pulled out the.32. I thumbed back the safety-catch. ‘You guys want real trouble,’ I told them, ‘just keep on coming!’

They stopped where they were. The big guy started cursing, but he didn’t do anything else. The short one watched me carefully. ‘Now beat it!’ I said.

‘We’ll go,’ the short one said softly, ‘because you’ve got that gun, mister. But stay away from the carnival from now on. If you come back, we’ll get you before you get a chance to even go for that gun! And the damage we’ll do to you will be permanent!’ They turned and walked away slowly – they didn’t look back.

I walked back down the lane again past the harem girls. It was nearly time for the next show and Tyson was beating the drum steadily. I looked at him and nodded. He stared stonily straight through me as if I wasn’t there.

All of a sudden my name was mud in the carnival ground. I wondered why as I drove home. I wasn’t getting anywhere fast. Dusberg rang just before I went out that evening and wanted to know what progress I’d made. I told him not very much. He told me I was expensive when I was producing results, let alone when I wasn’t. I told him if he wasn’t satisfied, he knew what he could do. Altogether, it wasn’t a very bright day.

CHAPTER THREE

The green dragon had a green dragon in neon lights above the door. It had a commissionaire, two hatcheck girls and a large foyer which was decorated with cut flower. In fact, it had class – I was glad I’d put on my tuxedo.

It was a slack time. The two hatcheck girls were talking to each other. The commissionaire was having a quiet cigarette. I went over to the girls. One of them held out her hand for my hat. I put a five-spot in her hand instead. She looked surprised.

I grinned at her. ‘I’m trying to check on a friend of mine – he comes here pretty often. Name of Johnny Brent. Do you know him, by any chance?’

She shook her head. ‘We don’t know many people by name. What does he look like?’

I gave her the description Mrs Brent had given me. The girl shook her head slowly. ‘Sorry, doesn’t mean anything to me – you had better take your five-spot back, mister.’

‘Wait a minute!’ the other girl said. ‘I seem to remember the guy. I’ve seen him a few times. He went up to Mr Gatt’s office a couple of times.’

‘When did you last see him?’ I asked her.

She thought hard. ‘Be more than a week ago – going on two weeks, I guess. I haven’t seen him since then.’

‘Thanks a lot,’ I said. I put a five-spot on the counter in front of her. ‘By the way, how do you get to Mr Gatt’s office?’

‘Straight up the stairs,’ she said, pointing to the staircase across the other side of the foyer. She picked up the five spot. ‘Thanks, mister.’

‘Thank you,’ I said to both of them. I went up the stairs and found a door with ‘Mr Gatt’ neatly stencilled on it in gold letters. I knocked.

‘Come in,’ said a deep voice.

The guy who was seated behind the desk stood up. It was a delicate operation. He must have hit the scales around two hundred and fifty, if they built scales tough enough to take him. Fat bulged everywhere. He could have been around forty, with a mass of shiny black hair and a fixed grin not far above his three chins.

‘Mr Gatt?’ I asked.

He nodded genially. ‘Sure, that’s me. What can I do for you? Take a seat, anyway.’

I sat down. ‘My name is Kaufman,’ I said. ‘I am trying to trace a friend of mine and I thought you might be able to help me.’

‘Sure,’ he grinned. ‘What’s your friend’s name?’

‘Brent,’ I told him. ‘Johnny Brent.’

The smile slid off his face and disappeared amongst the chins. ‘No,’ he shook his head ponderously, ‘I am sorry, Mr Kaufman, I do not know the name.’

I gave him the description. ‘I am sorry,’ he said again, ‘I’m sure I do not know him. What made you think I might?’

‘He comes here often,’ I said. ‘He has mentioned your name a few times to me – he seemed to know you very well,’ I lied.

‘Strange!’ he mused. ‘I do not understand it.’

‘Neither do I,’ I agreed.

He smiled again. ‘I am sorry I cannot help you, Mr Kaufman.’ He leaned back in the chair, which creaked with his weight.

I got to my feet. ‘Too bad,’ I said, ‘I particularly wanted to see him. Thanks, anyway.’

I could feel his eyes watching me as I went out of the room. I got myself a table and had a few drinks. Then came the floor show and it was good. The final act was even better. Her name was Katherine. She came into the centre of the floor, one spot staying with her, the rest of the place in darkness. She started to strip and each time she took a garment off, the spotlight went out, then came on again. Finally, when the light came on again, she wasn’t there. It was quite an act and she was quite a dame.

I had another drink and a few minutes later someone stopped at my table. ‘Hullo,’ a husky voice said. I looked up and saw it was Katherine – she was dressed in a red gown that contrasted nicely with her black hair. She smiled down at me. ‘On your own?’

‘That’s right,’ I agreed.

‘Would you mind if I joined you?’

‘Mind!’ I nearly broke my neck getting the chair out for her. The waiter came over and I ordered her a drink. ‘This is the sort of thing I dream about, but it never really happens!’ I told her.

She smiled. ‘After the floor show is over, I like to sit out here for a while. I would rather sit with someone who hasn’t a partner than with someone who has.’ Her smile broadened. ‘When I sit with someone who has a partner, the partner worries all the time that I might start my act over again!’

‘It’s certainly some act!’ I said enthusiastically.

She shrugged her beautiful shoulders. ‘It’s not a very clever act,’ she said. ‘I have little talent, but for a floor show the manager says my figure is better than my talent. So,’ she shrugged her shoulders again, ‘who am I to argue when he pays my salary?’

‘You must have an awful lot of talent,’ I told her, ‘if it comes anywhere close in comparison with your figure!’

‘Thank you,’ she said softly.

An hour and five drinks later she was still at my table. She was calling me Rex and I was calling her Katherine and we were old friends. Then she looked at her watch. ‘It’s getting late,’ she said, ‘I should be going home.’

‘Can I drive you?’ I offered.

‘That would be very nice,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll pick up my wrap and meet you in the foyer.’

We stopped outside her apartment block. ‘Won’t you come in for a drink, Rex?’ she asked. I was halfway across the sidewalk before she caught up with me.

Her apartment was nice – cosy on a lavish scale. We sat together on the sofa and had the drink – and then a couple more. ‘I guess I should be going,’ I said eventually.

‘There’s no hurry,’ she said. We had another couple of drinks. I was beginning to feel high and I wasn’t sure whether it was the liquor or her perfume.

‘If I stay here much longer,’ I told her, ‘I’m going to kiss you!’

She laughed softly. ‘I should be disappointed if you didn’t!’

Four a.m. when I got back to my own apartment, I put the key in the lock and the door opened before I could turn the key. I looked at it. I thought I remembered shutting the door before I’d gone out. I went inside, switched on the lights, then made my way into the living room.

I had a visitor. There was a guy sitting in an armchair, waiting for me. He was tall and dark with a thin moustache. You could have called him good looking. Almost without thinking, I glanced down at his left hand and saw the scar running across his knuckles.

He stood up as I came in – and there was a gun in his right hand. ‘I thought you were never coming home!’ he said thickly.

I walked over to the liquor cabinet. ‘Like a drink?’ I suggested.

‘I could use one,’ he said, ‘but don’t try any smart play!’

‘You’re Johnny Brent,’ I said as I poured out the drinks. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’

‘And I’ve been looking for you,’ he said. ‘Small world, isn’t it?’

I turned around and handed him one of the glasses – he took it carefully. His face was taut and his hands trembled slightly. ‘What’s the idea?’ he demanded. ‘What’s the idea of putting the finger on me?’

‘Just a job, as far as I’m concerned,’ I said easily. I didn’t like him being strung up like that. He could pull the trigger almost without knowing it. ‘I’m a private eye – I get paid to do things like that.’

‘Yeah?’ He took a pull on the rye. ‘Who’s paying you to put the finger on me?’

‘Your wife,’ I told him, ‘she’s worried about her income.’

‘My wife!’ He looked at me blankly.

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘She hasn’t seen you in three weeks and she’s worried.’

He finished the rye. ‘You’ve been asking in the carnival ground,’ he said hoarsely, ‘you’ve been asking in the Green Dragon. I don’t like it, Kaufman, it doesn’t do me any good – it doesn’t do my business any good!’

‘What exactly is your business?’ I asked.

‘Never mind!’ he said.

I sipped my own drink. ‘The answer is easy enough,’ I said. ‘Pay your wife some dough and she’ll call me off.’

‘Yeah,’ he liked his lips nervously, ‘where does she live again?’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘You must have a short memory!’

‘I’ve got things on my mind,’ he said. ‘Give me the address.’

I put my hand into the inside pocket of my jacket. The gun jerked up quickly. ‘It’s okay,’ I told him. ‘Relax! I’ve got it written down and the piece of paper is in my wallet.’

‘Just don’t make any mistake about it!’ he said.

I took the wallet out slowly and opened. ‘Here it is,’ I said. ‘She lives at…’

The noise of the shot reverberated around the room. I looked up and saw Johnny Brent’s astonished lace. The gun dropped out of his hand and his legs gave way underneath him. He crumpled to the floor. I still stood there looking at him. Then I looked towards the open door.

I came to life at last. I grabbed the.32 out of my shoulder holster and ran out into the corridor. There was no sign of anyone there. I could hear the faint whine of the elevator going down. I walked slowly back into the apartment, closing the door behind me. I knelt down beside him and felt for heartbeats – there weren’t any. Johnny Brent was dead.

I poured myself another drink and the glass shook as I lifted it to my mouth. I started to function again. I knelt down beside him again and went through his pockets systematically. His wallet contained seven hundred bucks in cash and a driver’s licence. The only other thing was a torn page from a desk diary with a date ringed in heavy pencil – the twenty-seventh, five days away. Underneath was written – Cielli.

I got to my feet, lit a cigarette and wondered what I was going to do with him. I didn’t want to report it to the cops – I’d have a hard time explaining how I didn’t even see who killed him. I’d also have to tell them the story about the carnival ground – the story that the district attorney didn’t believe, in any case.

I looked at my watch – an hour and a half to daylight. I just might get away with it – I thought it was worth the chance. I picked him up off the floor and put him over my shoulder in a fireman’s lift. I almost buckled at the knees under his weight.

Down on the ground floor, I got him as far as the outside door and left him huddled in the corner while I went outside. There wasn’t anyone on the street. I brought the car along and parked it right outside the door. Then I went back for Brent. I dragged him to his feet and put one of his arms around my shoulders. I put one arm around him and staggered towards the door.

Just as I got to it, it opened. A guy in a tuxedo, with a bottle in one hand and a cigar in the other, stood there weaving slightly. ‘Morning,’ he said brightly.

‘Good morning,’ I said politely.

‘Had a lovely party,’ he said in a blurred voice. ‘Looks like you did, too!’ He peered at Brent, then he chuckled. ‘Too much for him, eh?’

‘Sure,’ I said, ‘I’m just taking him home.’

‘Ah!’ the drunk said. He leaned forward until his face was only a couple of inches from Brent’s. ‘Wake up, old chap!’ he said in a loud voice. ‘You’re going home!’

‘I don’t think he’ll wake up,’ I said,’ ‘but if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get him into the car.’

‘Course,’ he said gravely, ‘give you a hand.’

‘I can manage,’ I said desperately.

‘Nonsense!’ he said violently. ‘Help a fellow man in distress – only decent thing to do!’ He grabbed hold of Brent’s other arm and together we staggered across the sidewalk to the car and somehow got Johnny inside.

The drunk dusted his hands proudly. ‘There you are,’ he said, ‘he’s all set now!’

‘Thanks,’ I told him.

I drove down to the carnival ground. There were no lights on and I didn’t see anyone around. I stopped the car outside the Harem Girl’s Hall and switched off the engine and the lights. I sat there for five long minutes in the darkness with Johnny beside me and waited.

I got out of the car, walked around the other side, opened the door and dragged Brent out. I left him propped up against the barker’s box in front of the tent, then went back to the car. I drove home slowly, had a final drink and went to bed.

I didn’t wake until midday. Maybe I wouldn’t have woken then, except for the phone jangling in my ear. I answered it.

‘Good morning,’ a husky voice said in my ear. ‘How’s my man this morning?’

‘Suffering from a hangover,’ I said. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m wonderful,’ she told me. ‘I’ve been missing you ever since you left.’

‘That’s nice to hear,’ I said. I tried to stop my head throbbing.

‘If you recover from your hangover in time,’ she said, ‘how about coming to the club again tonight?’

‘Is this the way you get paying customers?’ I asked her.

She laughed. ‘No, darling. You can pick me up at the club at midnight. I’ll see you in the foyer.’

I wondered if they found Brent’s body yet. If they had, it would be in the afternoon’s papers. I thought about Mrs Brent. How the hell could I tell her that her husband was dead?

I went to the office and sat there for half an hour, thinking about it. Then I finally decided that whether or not I was sticking my neck out, I’d have to tell her. I rang her number and listened to the phone ringing monotonously. Finally, I hung up.

I waited half an hour and rang again. There was still no answer. I thought I’d go around to her apartment and wait until she came home. The block where she lived was shabbier than I’d expected. I walked up the stairs to the third floor and pressed the buzzer. No one answered the door. I pressed it again just to make sure, then lit a cigarette and settled down to wait.

An old dame came up the stairs slowly and looked at me curiously. She hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘You waiting for somebody?’

‘I’m waiting for Mrs Brent to come home,’ I told her.

She shook her head slowly. ‘You’ve got the wrong address, mister. There’s nobody living in that apartment. It has been empty for a couple of days.’

‘It can’t have been,’ I said. I pulled out the piece of paper with Mrs Brent’s address on it. ‘I’ve got it here,’ I said and showed it to her.

She peered short-sightedly at it. ‘That’s the right phone number,’ she said. ‘There was someone in there until a couple of days ago, but like I told you, it has been empty since then.’

‘Who was in there then?’ I asked her.

‘A girl,’ she said, ‘a Miss Jones.’

‘What did she look like?’

‘Pretty. Blonde with her hair cut short. Always wore pearl ear-rings. She only stayed one day, though.’

‘Thanks,’ I muttered, ‘I must have the wrong address.’

I walked down the stairs slowly, wondering whether I was crazy or Mrs Brent was crazy. The old dame’s description of the Miss Jones who’d had the apartment sounded awfully like Mrs Brent.

I drove back to the office. There was no mention in the paper of any corpse being found in the carnival ground. I read through it from front page to back page. Whoever had found Brent’s body was keeping the fact very quiet. I gave up.

CHAPTER FOUR

Midnight, she came out into the foyer and smiled warmly when she saw me. ‘It’s good to see you, Rex,’ she said and tucked her arm firmly into mine. ‘How is the hangover?’

‘Fine,’ I said. We walked out to the car. I started the engine.

‘Rex,’ she said, ‘I want you to take me to a party.’

‘I’m easy,’ I said. ‘Where is it?’

‘In the carnival ground,’ she said. I felt something hard press into my ribs and looked down. She was holding a gun. ‘Please don’t be difficult, Rex,’ she said. ‘I like you – I really do. I’d hate to have to shoot you.’

We reached the carnival ground twenty minutes later. The shows were all shut down and the last few people were leaving. I drove down the lane and she told me to stop outside the Harem Girls’ Hall. Tyson was waiting there. He also had a gun in his hand.

‘Good work,’ he said to Katherine. ‘Sorry to bring you out this late, Mr Kaufman, but we wanted to ask you some questions. Follow me.’

We went across the stage and down to the back of the tent. Waiting there were the two guys who’d picked a fight with me the day before. Tyson went over to a large wooden box standing in the corner and lifted the lid. I looked down at the corpse of Johnny Brent.

‘Since you left him on our doorstep this morning,’ Tyson said, ‘we thought you might like to tell us why.’

‘I thought he belonged to you,’ I said, ‘so I returned him.’

‘I can assure you, Mr Kaufman,’ there was an edge to his voice, ‘I am not in the mood for jokes! Rudolph and Hans over there,’ he looked at the two hoods, ‘are both itching to lay their hands on you! You can either answer my questions sensibly, or I’ll turn you over to them.’

‘He was shot in my apartment,’ I said. ‘I don’t know who by. He was standing there talking to me one moment and the next moment he was dead. I never saw who killed him. By the time I got outside into the corridor, the elevator was on the way down.’

Tyson sniffed. ‘Why did you bring him here?’

‘I thought he belonged here,’ I said. ‘I didn’t want him and he had always said you were a great friend of his.’

‘You’re lying!’

‘To be strictly truthful, his wife gave me your name. She’d seen a receipt for two hundred bucks signed in your name.’

‘Wife?’ Tyson repeated. ‘What story is this? Brent never had any wife!’

I began to feel awfully tired. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘this dame came to see me, said she was Brent’s wife and he was missing and would I find him for her. She told me about that receipt, that he used to go to the Green Dragon a lot and there was a name written on a piece of paper.’

‘Cielli?’ he asked.

‘That’s right,’ I agreed.

Tyson paced up and down. ‘Brent had no wife!’ he said harshly.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ I said. ‘I tried to contact her this afternoon at the address she gave me. No one had been there for the last two days. A Miss Jones, who sounded awfully like the Mrs Brent I knew, had the apartment for one day.’

Tyson stopped and looked at me. ‘Your story is too stupid to be anything else but the truth,’ he said.

‘Perhaps, now I think of it, it is just as well you did put Brent’s body outside here last night.’

‘I’m so glad you’re happy,’ I said.

Katherine lit a cigarette. ‘What do we do now?’ she asked.

‘We can get rid of Brent’s body,’ Tyson said, ‘that is one thing for sure.’ He looked at me again. ‘Kaufman is a problem. I am not sure about him.’

‘Don’t hurt him,’ Katherine pouted. ‘I like him.’

Tyson started pacing up and down the room again. ‘Why were you snooping around the carnival?’ he asked. ‘Who hired you to do that?’

‘The dame who called herself Mrs Brent,’ I told him. ‘She wanted me to find her husband – she said.’

‘You’re lying! You were snooping before that.’

‘Dusberg wants to get the carnival off the lot,’ I said. ‘He hired me to find out why everyone stays here when they don’t make any dough.’

‘And have you found out why?’

‘Not yet,’ I grinned, ‘I was hoping you were going to tell me.’

He snorted and went on pacing. ‘Tyson,’ I said, ‘I’ve got something in my wallet that might interest you.’

He stopped pacing and looked at me. ‘What?’ he asked.

‘Information,’ I said. I put my hand up casually inside my jacket. Just a bunch of amateurs – they hadn’t even looked to see if I had a gun. I brought my hand away with the.32 in it. ‘Drop it!’ I told Katherine.

She didn’t need to be told twice. I swung the.32 in a short arc which covered the lot of them. Tyson glared at Katherine. ‘Now it’s my turn to ask some questions,’ I said. ‘Just why does everyone stay here and lose dough?’

‘I have no idea,’ he said.

‘You can tell me or I ring the cops and tell them I’ve just found you with Brent’s corpse,’ I said. ‘Take your choice.’

‘Ring them!’ Tyson said loftily. ‘Brent was murdered in your apartment, remember?’

I was remembering. I was remembering the drunk who had helped me put Brent into the car. Sober, he’d remember. I was remembering that probably Brent’s fingerprints were all over my apartment.

‘Why don’t you ring them?’ Tyson jeered.

I hooked Katherine’s gun closer to me, picked it up and put it in my pocket. ‘You’re coming with me,’ I told her. I looked at the others. ‘Anyone tries to follow me and they’ll collect lead!’

I told her to drive back to her own apartment. When we got there I closed the door behind me, then locked it. I put the.32 back into the holster and gave her gun back to her.

‘How deep are you in this thing?’ I asked her.

‘Pretty deep,’ she admitted.

‘It’s going to blow up,’ I told her. ‘It’s starting now – you want to get out?’

‘How can I get out?’ she asked.

‘Maybe I could get you out,’ I said. ‘If you told me what you know I could put you on a fast train tonight to somewhere a long way away. When this thing blows up, people will be too busy to worry where you are.’

‘It’s not so easy as that,’ she shuddered. ‘Wherever I went to, Cielli would find me. You don’t know that man!’

‘I don’t even want to know him!’ I said.

A gun pressed hard into my back. ‘Now is that polite?’ a suave voice asked. I didn’t move. ‘That’s being sensible,’ the voice went on.

‘How did you get in here?’ Katherine whispered.

‘I was early,’ he said, ‘and I thought I might spend the evening with you, but you were out. So I waited. When I realised that someone was with you, I hid in the kitchen and listened to the conversation. Very interesting! Just exactly who is this man?’

‘He’s Rex Kaufman, a private detective,’ she said.

‘Really?’ The gun was removed from my back and he walked round in front of me, a tall, lean character with deep-set grey eyes and a hard jaw. He looked tougher than the rest of the bunch put together. Then he frisked me expertly and removed the.32 from my holster.

Katherine looked at him with fear in her eyes. ‘You didn’t take me seriously when I was talking to him, did you?’ she asked. ‘I was only kidding him along. He brought me here with a gun poked in my ribs.’

She told him the story as I had told it to Tyson. He listened carefully. ‘A blonde with her hair in short curls around her head?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘It doesn’t mean anything to me,’ he frowned.

I was getting tired of watching them. ‘If you’re all through with me, I think I’ll be going home,’ I said.

‘I don’t think so, Mr Kaufman,’ Cielli said courteously. ‘I’m afraid you seem to have had too much success with your snooping. I think you’re going to have to stick around for a while.’ He turned to Katherine. ‘I think we had better go and see Tyson. That body must be got rid of correctly.’

It was just after two in the morning when we grouped ourselves in the Harem Girls’ Hall again. Cielli had a look at the corpse. ‘I’m sorry for Johnny,’ he shrugged his shoulders, ‘but we must get rid of him quickly.’

‘What do you suggest?’ Tyson asked.

Cielli stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘I think perhaps the best way is to drop him from the launch into the sea. Mr Kaufman can go the same way. He knows too much – he’s got too many of the pieces – sooner or later he must put them all together. We can’t afford to take the risk.’

‘It’s not a very clever idea, Cielli,’ I said. ‘Dusberg employed me to find out what was happening in the carnival ground. If I disappear, then it will be pretty obvious that I found out too much. The police will move in then.’

Cielli shook his head. ‘I don’t agree. They’ll investigate your disappearance, possibly, as a matter of routine. The carnival ground will be a model for all law-abiding citizens to copy. They’ll get tired alter a couple of days and you’ll be a name on the files in the missing persons bureau.’

He turned to Tyson. I’ll take Hans and Rudolph with me. You stay here. Gatt should have the stuff prepared quite soon. I don’t imagine he will deliver now, but he may. Someone should be here.’

‘Of course,’ Tyson agreed. ‘I’ll wait.’

Katherine stepped forward out of the shadows. ‘What about me?’

‘You can come along with us for the ride,’ he said, ‘but Hans and Rudolph can handle the launch.’

We covered the twenty miles out to the coast in thirty minutes. We stopped beside a boatshed at the end of a small jetty. It seemed deserted everywhere and there was a fog creeping in from the sea.

Cielli got out of the car. ‘Watch Kaufman,’ he told the two hoods.

I felt Katherine’s hand close over mine. Something cold was pressed into the palm. Something cold, made of steel. I felt glad I’d given her automatic back to her in the apartment. I gently rammed the gun down the top of my sock and hoped it stayed there.

Cielli came back. ‘The launch is okay,’ he said. ‘You guys get Brent aboard. I’ll watch the shamus.’

Then it was my turn. The launch was sleek and powerful. They put me in the tiny cabin next to Brent, who was on the bunk. ‘You can do it which way you like, shamus,’ Rudolph said. ‘You can let yourself be tied up now – or we’ll slug you, then tie you up.’

I heard the car’s engine start, then the sound died as the car moved away with Cielli and Katherine. ‘You can tie me up,’ I said, ‘but first let me scratch my leg – it itches like hell!’

‘Make it snappy!’ he snapped.

I bent down and clasped my fingers around the butt of the gun and thumbed back the safety-catch. Then I brought the gun up quickly and pressed the trigger. Rudolph fell forward.

Hans came cluttering down the ladder. ‘What did you shoot him for, Rudolph?’ he said, then his eyes bulged as he saw me. He reached for his gun and I pulled the trigger again.

The launch was still secured to the jetty, its engine throbbing gently. I cut the engine and climbed back to the jetty. I followed the road for a couple of miles before it linked up with the highway, then got a lift back to the city in a truck.

As soon as I got home, I rang the police and told them where they’d find the launch with three bodies in it. They asked who was calling and I told them Santa Claus. Then I went to bed.

The phone rang and I answered it. ‘Mr Kaufman?’ The voice was female, tremulous.

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Who’s that?’

There was a pause. ‘I told you I was Mrs Brent,’ she said in a low voice. I sat bolt upright. ‘I don’t know how to say this, Mr Kaufman,’ she went on, ‘but the money meant such a lot to me and they said it was just a practical joke.’

‘Who said?’

‘The lady who got me to do it,’ she said.

‘Supposing,’ I suggested, ‘you start from the beginning?’

‘I’m Lucinda Bray,’ she said, ‘I’m an actress – not a very good one or highly paid one, but an actress. This lady came along to me and said she wanted me to help her play a practical joke on a friend of hers who was a private detective. She told me to say all the things that I said to you. She paid me two hundred dollars for doing it. It seemed wonderful at the time, but then I read the paper this morning.’

‘What about the paper this morning?’ I asked.

‘The description of one of those men – it fits exactly, even down to the scar across the knuckles. It’s exactly the type of man I was told to describe to you!’

‘I wouldn’t worry too much,’ I told her. ‘What was the name of the dame who gave you the job?’

‘She didn’t give me any name. But she was a brunette – young and very attractive.’

‘Where can I get in touch with you?’ I asked.

‘The Ambassador Theatre is the easiest.’ Then her voice broke. ‘Mr Kaufman, what should I do? Should I tell the police?’

‘Now you’ve told me, you don’t have to worry,’ I said. ‘Forget it for the time being – if anything happens, I’ll let you know.’

CHAPTER FIVE

An hour later I was pressing the buzzer outside her apartment. I had my fingers wrapped around her gun in case Cielli was there. She opened the door and threw her arms around my neck. ‘Darling!’ she cried, ‘you’re alive! I couldn’t let them do it last night – I couldn’t bear the thought of you dying like that!’

I pushed her back into the apartment and closed the door behind me. ‘You double-crossing little heel!’ I said. ‘You put that actress into my office to kid me she was Mrs Brent! You started the whole damn thing! I ought to take you apart!’

‘But I didn’t!’ she screamed. ‘I don’t even know what you’re talking about!’

‘She told me over the phone this morning,’ I said wearily. ‘There’s no point in lying about it.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said, ‘I swear it!’

‘The description fitted you like a glove – a beautiful brunette,’ I said.

She threw her hand to her forehead. ‘I’m the only beautiful brunette in this city, I suppose!’

‘You’re the only beautiful brunette who has anything to do with the carnival ground,’ I said, ‘and that’s enough for me! Who else would there be in the…’ My voice trailed away suddenly as I remembered.

‘Have you quite finished?’ she asked coldly.

‘Listen, honey,’ I said as I backed towards the door, ‘there’s just a chance I could be wrong.’

‘Just a chance you could be wrong.’ Her eyes flashed fire. Then she picked up a bottle of rye from the liquor cabinet. ‘Just a chance!’ she screamed. The bottle hurled through the air towards me. I ducked and it thudded against the door, then dropped to the floor.

I opened the door quickly and shut it after me just in time. Another bottle thudded into the panels a second later. I made quick time to the elevator and out of the apartment block. I went home.

I left my apartment just after eight and had to get a cab down to the carnival ground. I wondered how Cielli was treating my car or whether he’d run it over a cliff. I hoped not – the insurance was overdue.

I paid my quarter and went inside the tent to see Mollo’s magic for the second time. I waited until the show was over and the customers had departed. I had stayed in the back row and I didn’t think Mollo or Ivy had seen me. I went up on the stage and ducked between the curtains. It was pretty much the same layout that Tyson’s tent had at the back.

I went down the steps and there they were. Mollo was sitting on a camp-stool, lighting a cigarette. Ivy was sitting on another stool, with her feet up on a packing-case. ‘Hi!’ I said brightly.

Ivy jumped. Mollo looked up casually. ‘Ah!’ he said. ‘Your admirer is back, Ivy!’

Ivy stood up. She smiled at me. ‘Hullo, Rex, it’s good to see you!’

‘It is?’ I asked her.

‘Of course!’ Her smile grew a little uncertain.

‘You heel’ I said. ‘You two-timing female heel!’

‘Rex!’ She looked hurt. ‘What’s come over you?’

‘To think I pulled you out of a peddling rap once before!’ I said. I jerked a thumb in Mollo’s direction, ‘Is he in this, or would you prefer I talked to you alone?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ she said.

‘Oh, yes you do!’ I sneered. ‘Poison Ivy!’

She turned her back on me and started to walk towards the door. ‘I’m not going to stay here and be insulted!’ she said.

‘You don’t know the half of it!’ I told her. I grabbed her arm and pulled her back. ‘Brother!’ I said. ‘I wince when I remember just how dumb I was – spilling the lot to you over a cup of coffee and asking you for help!’ I pulled her closer. ‘I had a nice long cosy chat with Lucinda Bray this morning!’

‘Oh!’ She looked startled. Mollo was watching interestedly.

‘Look,’ I said, ‘you’re in real trouble now Cielli’s on the warpath and it won’t take him long to figure out who’s behind all the trouble – who started it in the first place. So you’d better come clean. It’s dope again, isn’t it?’

She nodded dumbly. ‘And Cielli brings it with him in his launch?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered, ‘it’s dropped in watertight containers from the big ships at a certain rendezvous. Cielli picks it up.’

‘Then it goes to the Green Dragon and Gatt breaks it down into pellets?’ She didn’t answer. I shook her arm vigorously. ‘Doesn’t he?’

‘Yes!’ she squealed. ‘Stop it, you’re hurting me!’

‘I’m only just starting if you don’t answer the questions quickly,’ I told her. ‘Johnny Brent was the contact between Gatt and the carnival ground?’ She nodded.

‘Two main sources – two avenues,’ I said. ‘One through the Harem Girls’ Hall and the other through you?’

‘Yes, damn you!’ she said sullenly.

‘That’s why the people stayed here even though they weren’t making any dough through legitimate carnival?’

‘Of course,’ she said.

‘What about the honest ones?’

‘Cielli paid them two hundred bucks a week to stay – Johnny Brent made the payments,’ she said.

‘What was the idea of that?’ I asked her.

She took a deep breath. ‘Because if the carnival ground had been half empty, even the cops would have been interested to know why the other half stayed on. We had to keep them all here.’

‘You weren’t frightened they might talk?’

‘When they were getting two hundred bucks a week for nothing?’ she sneered. ‘Don’t be stupid!’

I gave her another shake to mend her manners.

‘What happened? You got ambitious?’

‘We knew the whole set-up,’ she said. ‘There were too many in it. Gatt was all right, but Cielli took too big a cut for himself – and we could distribute Tyson’s lot as well as our own.’

‘Then I came along?’

‘Then you came along,’ she agreed. ‘When you told me what you were looking for, I thought it was too good a chance to miss. So we coached that actress and she did a good job – sold you on it completely. We figured that the more you went around asking about Johnny Brent, the more worried Cielli and the rest of them would be. They’d start to distrust each other – particularly Johnny. That way, it would be much easier for us when the time came to take over.’

‘You were doing all the work for us. You were taking all the risks. We gave the actress those clues to give to you. You aren’t too bad a private eye,’ she said reluctantly, ‘so we knew you’d keep adding it up and eventually come up with the right answer. By that time they would either knock you off or we’d have to – it didn’t matter much.’

I resisted an impulse. ‘What about Johnny? He was killed because he was going to tell me that he never had a wife. Is that right?’

‘That’s right,’ she agreed.

‘Who killed him?’

‘Why, Mr Kaufman,’ Mollo said smoothly, ‘that’s a question easily answered – I did!’ I looked down the barrel of the automatic he was holding firmly in his right hand.

He glanced quickly at his watch. ‘Ivy, my dear,’ he said, ‘it’s nearly time for the next show.’

‘You can’t put it on now,’ she protested.

‘We must,’ he said, ‘it’s one of the specials’ He smiled at me. ‘For your information, it’s at special shows that we sell the stuff. Done up in popcorn packets, with some genuine popcorn on the tray for those who really want it.’

Ivy looked at him sourly. ‘That’s all right,’ she said, ‘but what are you going to do with big-eyes?’ She pointed her thumb at me.

Mollo looked at me coldly, ‘You may realise that I have a silencer on this gun,’ he said. ‘You will do exactly as I say. First, give me the gun I can see bulging in your pocket.’

I gave it to him. ‘Now get in there,’ he said, ‘quickly!’ He pointed to a wooden box mounted on a stool. I got into it awkwardly. My head protruded from one end and my feet from the other. He screwed down the lid tightly and I was helpless. ‘One yelp and it is the last!’ he said.

The curtains were pulled aside and there was a scattered burst of applause. I imagined that the applause was for Mollo, the dope-peddler, not Mollo, the magician.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Mollo said solemnly, ‘on special nights I do the most dangerous of all magicians’ wonders. On special nights I saw someone in half.’ He paused for a moment. ‘This is a most difficult and dangerous thing to do. My female assistant has been through the ordeal before and, frankly, her nerve has failed her. I cannot blame her. But tonight,’ he raised his voice slightly, ‘tonight, a very good friend of mine has volunteered to help me out!’ He slapped the box briskly and grinned down at me. ‘My good friend Rex has the highest confidence in my ability!’

He produced a gigantic saw and measured the line with his eye carefully, then made the first cut. There was absolute silence in the tent – except for the rasp of the saw as it started to cut through the cabinet. I began to feel very hot. The saw rasping through the wood set my whole nervous system on edge.

Mollo made the final cut and stepped back.

‘Perhaps, ladies and gentlemen,’ his eyebrows had an ironic twist, ‘perhaps you do not believe that Rex has been sawn in half?’ Then he grabbed the box close to where my head stuck out and swung it inward suddenly. The audience gasped.

I realised that only half the box had swung. The other half with the other half of me in it was still resting in its original position. The ceiling swam crazily and then everything went black.

I was left in the cabinet for what seemed an eternity of time, but was probably no longer than half an hour. Then Mollo’s face leaned over.

‘I’m going to let you out, Kaufman,’ he said, ‘but take it easy – your life isn’t worth a dime at the moment so don’t try crowding your luck!’

Mollo unscrewed the lid and I climbed out, stiff and bruised. He had me covered with a gun in his hand. He gestured towards the steps. ‘We are going out the front way, Kaufman, into my car. Don’t try any tricks!’

Ivy walked up the steps onto the stage and as she reached the top step, someone stepped through the curtains and thrust a gun at her. At the same time I heard a thud behind me. I turned around and saw Mollo slumping to the ground.

Ivy walked backwards a couple of paces and Cielli stepped through the curtains. ‘Why, Mr Kaufman,’ he smiled pleasantly, ‘this is a nice surprise!’

CHAPTER SIX

Katherine’s living room looked almost crowded. I sat on the sofa with Mollo one side of me and Ivy the other. Tyson stood with a gun in his hand, just behind us. To one side, Katherine sat. Gatt sat facing us, patting his face with a perfumed handkerchief.

Cielli stood easily in the centre of the room, smoking a cigarette and enjoying it. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘now we’re all together, who would like to tell the story?’

Mollo glared at him malevolently. ‘I should have thought of you before Brent!’ he snarled.

‘Perhaps you should,’ Cielli agreed, ‘but then, it’s a little late now, don’t you think?’ Mollo relapsed into silence.

‘It’s the usual story of a tribe of rats,’ I said to Cielli. ‘They all try and double-cross each other!’

‘I think we know the story,’ Cielli said. ‘The problem is, what to do about it? We’ve got to lay off for a while – that’s obvious. There wasn’t any stuff on board that launch, but if they have a close look at it, they might wonder why it has the engine it has – and so on. They might also wonder why no one has come forward to claim it. I took the precaution of registering it in Brent’s name, so we’re fairly safe there.’

I wondered who he was talking to – Tyson? Tyson was the only one on his side. ‘Yes,’ Cielli went on, ‘the problem is what to do about the organisation. I feel it is hopeless. We can’t hope to go on in the same way. So much has got to be done that will cause unpleasantness. The police will be very active for quite a while.’

‘Why don’t you come to the point, Cielli?’ Mollo snarled.

‘I’m going to,’ Cielli said crisply. ‘We had a good merchandising set-up and now what have we got? Our supply line is crippled until we can get another launch. Our distributing set-up has been cut down quite considerably.’ He looked at Katherine. ‘I find I can’t trust anyone – except perhaps you, Tyson, and you, Gatt.’ He sighed deeply. ‘I really think we shall have to disband the organisation for a time.’

‘What about these?’ Tyson asked. I presumed he was talking about the three of us on the sofa.

‘An artistic solution,’ Cielli smiled briefly. ‘Gatt is all right – he can go on running his nightclub as a legitimate business for a while.’ He turned to Gatt. ‘Though I’m afraid you will need a new star for your floorshow.’

Gatt shrugged his shoulders. ‘It is regrettable,’ he said, ‘but it can be overcome.’

Cielli turned back to us. ‘An artistic solution,’ he repeated. ‘I feel that the police, the public, even Mr Dusberg, should not go unsatisfied. So we’ll leave them a neat solution. In the tent of Mollo, the magician,’ he gave Mollo an ironical bow, ‘will be the remains of a tense drama that should fill the front pages of almost every newspaper in the States.’

‘A permanent tableau of death!’ He was obviously very pleased with himself. ‘There are the three dope-peddlers – Mollo, Ivy and Katherine – dead! There also, lying on the floor, is the brilliant private detective who discovered the dope-ring and shot it out with them. Unfortunately he was killed for his valour!’

Mollo looked at him icily. ‘If you’ve quite finished grandstanding,’ he said, ‘let’s get it over with!’

‘Why not?’ Cielli agreed. ‘Gatt, I think you had better come with us. Another gun will be useful.’

‘Of course,’ Gatt muttered. He mopped his face again. I had a feeling that the fat one wasn’t made of steel underneath. Underneath the fat was only more fat.

‘There is the question of cars,’ Cielli said. ‘I’ve still got Kaufman’s car downstairs. I think we might give him the pleasure of driving it for the last time. You travel with him, Gatt, and Tyson and Ivy can travel in the back. Mollo can drive his own car and I’ll take Katherine with me.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘All right,’ he said crisply, ‘let’s go!’

Gatt sat beside me, his gun thrust into my ribs. I saw Mollo’s car move away and I followed it slowly. I came to the turn-off into the carnival ground. I pressed the accelerator gently and the needle went up to the forty-five mark. For a moment they didn’t notice it because the pick-up was smooth. Then I swung around the corner into the lane between the tents and I put my foot flat down. The needle crept up to sixty and climbed rapidly.

‘Hey!’ Gatt rammed me in the ribs with his gun. ‘Slow down!’

I kept going. ‘Slow down,’ Tyson yelled from the back seat, ‘or I’ll plug you!’

‘You do that,’ I yelled back at him, ‘and you won’t have a driver!’

Mollo had parked slightly to one side and I blessed him for it. Gatt was yelling with fear. I saw something flash in the air above me and I threw up a hand to ward off the blow. The butt of Tyson’s automatic hit my elbow, numbing the whole arm.

Then we were almost on top of the tent. To hell with the insurance! I swung the wheel hard over so that the car leaped straight towards the tent. I let go of the steering wheel with both hands and ducked under the dashboard, flattening myself against the floor of the car. At the last moment I turned the ignition off.

There was a rending, splintering crash and I heard one agonised shout from Gatt. Then my head thudded against the handbrake and I didn’t know anything about anything for a while.

I put one hand up to my head and it came away wet. I levered myself in a sitting position and looked around. Gatt had disappeared completely. The front seat was pressing against me and it took me a couple of minutes to push it back far enough to get out the door.

I edged myself along to the rear of the car and looked in one of the back windows. Ivy was huddled on the floor, the spare tyre on top of her. The position of her body made it impossible for her to be alive.

Tyson had disappeared entirely, along with Gatt, but his gun was still there, half-embedded in the upholstery of the front seat. I dug it out. Then I left the car and ploughed through the canvas on the stage trying to find my way out. I found Gatt on the way, he was dead. Further on was Tyson, trying to get up.

I hobbled on to where the canvas lay in heavy folds. I lay on my side and started burrowing into it. The further I burrowed, the heavier and darker was the canvas. I began to panic, thinking I’d suffocate under the weight. I burrowed even more desperately. Then, when I was ready to give up, I was suddenly out in the cool night air on the other side.

It took me a little while to get used to the light. Then I could make out the figures – three of them. Cielli standing there, his bulk looming against the sky. Katherine, limp and motionless on the ground. Mollo, on his knees, his hands clasped together in front of him.

‘Well!’ Cielli cackled. ‘Here he is! The man who planned a different ending!’

‘Where’s Ivy?’ Mollo drew in a shuddering breath ‘Where’s Ivy?’

‘Dead,’ I told him.

Cielli cackled again. ‘The others?’ he asked.

‘Gatt went through the windscreen’ I said, ‘Tyson’s under the canvas – he’s alive.’ I fumbled for Tyson’s gun, then I saw the blue object in Cielli’s hand.

‘You have a mastermind, Kaufman,’ Cielli said. ‘This is death on a grand scale!’

‘It includes you, Cielli,’ I told him. ‘It includes you!’ I tried to get to my feet, but I couldn’t make it. I started dragging myself along.

‘That’s it,’ he said, ‘come closer so that I’ll make sure I don’t miss!’

The distance between us came down to six feet, then five, then four. ‘This is it, Kaufman!’ Cielli cried exultantly. There was the sound of a shot and the moment before it sounded, a dark shadow came in between me and Cielli. Mollo had flung himself in front of Cielli.

Cielli brought the gun up again but before he could fire a second shot I had Tyson’s gun out, then I pulled the trigger. Cielli crashed to the ground. I passed out again.

When I started taking an interest again, all I could see were bandages. On the fourth day they thought I was well enough to make a statement and a lieutenant came in with the district attorney for company. The district attorney looked a little embarrassed.

‘Must apologise, Kaufman,’ he said gruffly. ‘You were quite right, of course. But there it is – I get so many people wanting me to investigate this or that and I’m responsible for the way public money is spent. I mean, I can’t just…’

‘Sure,’ I said.

The lieutenant took the opportunity while the district attorney was trying to sort himself out. ‘Okay, Kaufman, give me the story,’ he said, and held his notebook ready. I gave it to him.

The next visitor was Dusberg who cheered me up quite a lot. He gave me a cheque for two thousand bucks and I don’t know of anything more cheering. The carnival was finished, cleared off the lot and he was already starting to divide it up into lots for sale.

The days dragged by. One by one the bandages came off and stayed off. I still didn’t dare ask. I was frightened they’d tell me. Frightened they’d look at me sorrowfully and say, ‘Why, didn’t you know? She died that night. She was dead by the time you had crawled from under the canvas.’ That’s what I was frightened they’d say.

Then came the day. The day I left the hospital. I couldn’t wait for the day to go. I paced up and down the apartment, more nervous than a kitten. Around seven I put on my tuxedo and all the trimmings. Even if she was dead, then this would be a sort of private funeral, I thought.

The house lights went out, the single spot beamed on and there, in the centre of it, was Katherine. She did her act as before. I sat there and felt I could have sat there forever and been happy just watching her. Then the final on-off of the lights and she was gone.

I ran… past the protesting waiters and bandsmen, past the shocked wardrobe mistress, until I found her room. I didn’t bother to knock. I just burst in and then we were in each other’s arms.

‘Why didn’t you come and see me when I was in hospital?’ I asked her when we came up for air. ‘Why didn’t you even let me know you were alive?’

She turned her face away. ‘I didn’t know whether you were interested – I didn’t even know if you cared!’ she told me.

‘Honey!’ I pulled her back into my arms. ‘I nearly went crazy just thinking about you. I didn’t know whether you were dead when I got through that canvas. Nobody told me, nobody mentioned you – and I thought that was probably because you were dead!’

‘You poor darling!’ she whispered.

When we had calmed down a little, I asked her what had happened that night. She shuddered as she thought of it. ‘We got there first, as you know. Cielli took us through to the back – the room behind the stage. He was gloating over us, telling us exactly where we’d be when we were shot. He kept on and on. Finally, Mollo couldn’t stand it any longer and he tried to jump Cielli.

‘Cielli waited until Mollo was almost onto him, then he shot him.’ She shuddered again. ‘He laughed when he did it. I started screaming and I couldn’t stop. He told me to shut up – that he wasn’t going to shoot me until you arrived. He was looking forward to watching your face while he did it.’

She was trembling as she remembered. ‘Take it easy, honey,’ I said.

‘Then he hit me,’ she went on, ‘knocked me off my feet and I fell to the ground. The next moment the car came crashing in. I thought the world had come to an end – I’ve never heard anything like it in all my life! There was the crash and then canvas came down over everything. Splintered glass came over us. I was lucky being on the ground – it missed me. I saw a piece hit Cielli and he just laughed.

‘I think he was crazy even then. He said that you’d arrived with a vengeance. He was waiting for you to come to him. He said that it was meant for him to kill you. He was raving. Then a piece of metal hit me on the head. I didn’t know any more until I came to in the ambulance. They only kept me a couple of days in hospital, then I came home.’

She smiled up at me faintly. ‘With Gatt gone, the club is quite a nice place. I went back to work and I’ve been here ever since – hoping.’

I’d bought a new car with some of the dough that Dusberg had paid me, so I drove her home. We got up to her apartment. ‘Pour yourself a drink, honey,’ she said, ‘while I get changed into something more comfortable.’

I poured the drinks. ‘Will you marry me?’ I asked her.

‘Huh?’ She looked at me blankly.

‘I mean it,’ I said. ‘A private eye should have a wife to come home to at night – I’m sure of it. You think I want to spend the rest of my life pouring my own drinks?’

She stammered but didn’t say anything. ‘Go and think about it while you’re getting changed,’ I suggested. ‘I don’t want you to make a rush decision. I’ll give you until you’ve changed.’ She went out of the room.

I drank my drink and her drink while I waited.

‘Rex!’ Her voice was soft and husky.

I looked around but I couldn’t see her. ‘Where are you?’ I called.

‘Right here,’ she said. I saw an arm waving from behind the door. I wondered what sort of an answer that was!