The Black Hush

CHAPTER V. BURKE REPORTS

GOLDY TANCRED was seated in the living room of his luxurious suite at the Hotel Marathon. Bowser Riggins, the man whom he called a pal, and others termed his bodyguard, was lolling in a corner by the window.

A heavily built man entered the room and turned a sour, motionless face in Goldy’s direction. Although dressed in a business suit, this fellow had the manner of a servant who had come to make an announcement.

“What is it, Curry?” questioned Goldy.

“Reporter outside to see you,” answered Curry. “Guy named Burke. Comes from the Classic. Wants an interview.”

Bowser Riggins offered an objection before the big shot could make reply.

“Say” — the bodyguard’s expression was a growl — “ain’t there no end to those guys? There’s been half a dozen up to see you, Goldy—”

The big shot waved his hand for silence.

“Show him in, Curry,” he ordered. “I’ll talk to him. I know Burke.”

The big shot held out his hand when Clyde Burke entered. Although he made no effort to rise, Goldy’s clasp was cordial as he received the reporter’s handshake. Burke took a chair that Goldy pointed out to him, and drew the seat alongside that of Goldy’s.

“Listen, Goldy.” Burke was serious as he took up the conversation. “You know what I’m after. A story. The boys are all wise. What’s the use of kidding them?”

“Wise to what?” queried Goldy suavely.

“Wise that somebody’s out to get you,” returned Clyde. “Why don’t you give us something to work on? If you know who’s on your trail, it won’t hurt to spill the news.”

“No?” Goldy’s question came with a smile that showed his shining dental equipment. “Say, Burke, you’re no nitwit, like most of these news hounds. You don’t think I’m a squawker, do you? If I was” — Goldy indulged in a contemptuous leer — “I’d have been pushing up posies long ago. Squawkers don’t go, that’s all.”

“Murder has been committed,” said the reporter gravely. “If you have any way of rectifying it — of bringing justice against the killers — you should take the opportunity.”

Goldy Tancred leaned back in his chair, and loosed a long horse-laugh. He looked toward Bowser Riggins, then pointed at Clyde Burke.

“Listen to that, Bowser,” chuckled the big shot. “This column-filler talks like Joe Cardona. Remember the line he passed out when he dropped in here this morning?”

Bowser grinned and nodded.

“Say” — Goldy was speaking to Burke now — “if I couldn’t tell Cardona anything, you don’t think I’d have any dope for you, do you?”

“No,” admitted Burke. “But when Cardona talked to you—”

“I told him the truth,” interposed Goldy. “I told him that I didn’t know of any rat that had nerve enough to try to get me. I admitted there were a lot of boobs who might have it in for me because I had queered their cheap rackets for them. But I didn’t need to name them.”

“Why not?”

“Because Cardona already had the list. What do you think he pays a lot of stool pigeons for — just to hear them tell funny stories? Listen, news-hound. If any guy was after me last night, Cardona has just as good a chance of guessing who he was as I have.

“There’s the whole lay. It’s easier for Cardona to locate the bird he wants. I’m not worried. I’m not going around to look for trouble. It’s a police job; let him do it. It’s his business.”

Goldy smiled more pleasantly when he saw Clyde Burke nod in agreement to his statement.

“Murder,” said the big shot, becoming somewhat serious. “That’s what it was, Burke — cold murder. Cardona is a smart detective. As a matter of fact he’s beginning to convince me that they were really after me — but at the same time, I’m not sure enough to say so.

“Now suppose that a pot shot had been taken at me. Suppose that Bowser, here, had taken a dose of lead trying to protect me from some sap who had more bullets than brains. Well, it would be different then, Burke. I’d be forced to admit that they were on my trail.

“But as it is, I’ve got no proof. If I come out and try to place the marker on some bozo, I’ve got to mark every one that I think is sore at me. What would that mean? I’ll tell you — it would give me a dozen enemies — maybe two dozen.

“Instead of a flock of rats, I’d have a troop of foxes on my list. You know how those small-fry mobsters work. They hide out and run away until they think they’re in for something. Then they get nasty. So I’m just sitting back and saying nothing. That’s all. No names. Not one.”

“Well,” volunteered Burke, “if Cardona is satisfied—”

“Satisfied?” came Goldy’s interrupting quiz. “Say, boy, he saw the light mighty quick. You want to know why? I’ll tell you — provided that you don’t use it in your paper.”

“Go ahead,” said Burke.

“Cardona,” explained Goldy, “figures that the birds who bumped these electrical engineers won’t be satisfied until they take another crack at me. He believes me when I tell him I don’t know who the killers are.

“So he’s laying quiet, like I am. Why should he stir up a lot of other rats or force me to do it? There’s a bunch might take the trouble to come after me if they got worried. Then Cardona would be stuck. He wants the guys who killed the engineers to show themselves again.

“I’ll tell you what I’ve done for Cardona. I’m laying low, playing possum, acting almost like I’m scared. That’s a good come-on, isn’t it? Of course. I’m playing safe, even though this talk of danger may be hokum. But if these tough bimboes want to waltz into trouble of their own making, I’ll be satisfied. So will Cardona.”

Goldy Tancred grinned and clasped one hand with the other to demonstrate an illustrative shake. It was an effort to explain the entente cordiale that existed between Goldy and Joe Cardona.

Clyde Burke smiled.

“Thanks, Goldy,” he said. “You’ve explained what was puzzling me. There’s no story in it — but it may mean that something will break a lot quicker.”

Despite his expression of new understanding, Clyde Burke had actually learned nothing which he did not know before. This unofficial arrangement between Cardona and Goldy Tancred was a logical procedure.

In fact, it was possible that the detective and the smooth racketeer handler might have checked up the names of certain gangsters.

Clyde’s conversation had been intended as a stall. He wanted to stay in Goldy’s suite as long as possible.

That was not part of his work for the Classic. It was a duty that had been ordered by The Shadow.

WHILE Clyde was thinking of some way to prolong the visit, the telephone rang on a table at Goldy Tancred’s side. The big shot lifted the receiver. Clyde caught a gleam of the gold teeth as Goldy talked across the wire.

“Hello… Yes…” Goldy seemed intensely interested. “Yeah… All right. It’s settled, then… Hobbs will be there? Good… Good…”

Intense interest had entered Goldy’s eyes. Now, upon sudden thought, the big shot had apparently remembered that a visitor was listening to his talk. Perhaps it was the fact that he had mentioned the name of Hobbs. Whatever the cause of Goldy’s change might have been, the result was immediate.

“That’s all right,” continued Goldy in a noncommittal tone. “Glad you called. Sorry I can’t be at the party… No, I’m feeling pretty good, but I’m sticking around the apartment for the time being… Sure — I’ll tell him when I see him… Yeah, I’ll call you some day soon…”

Goldy looked toward Bowser Riggins as he lowered the receiver.

“Just been finding out I’m nothing but a big playboy,” he remarked. “That’s about the tenth guy that has called me up to go on a night-club party. Bunch of chorus girls and other molls. They can leave me out of the night life for a while.”

The pretense was well done. But Clyde Burke sensed that Goldy Tancred had sought to cover up a message of real importance. The reporter remembered that name that Goldy had mentioned — Hobbs.

Rising from his chair, Clyde Burke cast a glance about the room. He noted the elegant furnishings, and his eye fell upon a corner by the window. A bookcase, set at right angles to the window, jutted out until it reached a hanging curtain that draped to the window ledge. Beyond the window, Clyde espied the brass railing of a balcony.

“So long, Goldy,” said the reporter. “Maybe I’ll drop in again.”

“Wait a moment,” suggested the big shot. “Bowser will ride down with you, Burke. He’s going out.”

The bodyguard joined the reporter. They descended to the hotel lobby, and left by the same door.

There, their paths separated.

Ordinarily, Clyde Burke would have gone directly to a telephone to communicate with Burbank. The proximity of Bowser Riggins restrained him on this occasion.

Clyde covered several blocks before he dropped into a drugstore and entered a phone booth. He obtained his number quickly, and talked with Burbank. In short, low sentences, Clyde stated that Goldy Tancred had received a suspicious call, which involved the name of Hobbs. He added the fact that he had noted concerning the proximity of a bookcase to a balconied window.

When Clyde Burke left the store, he called a taxi and directed the driver to take him to the Classic office.

The reporter’s only regret was that he had lost fifteen minutes between the time of his departure from Goldy’s apartment, and his arrival at the telephone booth. On the contrary, he felt sure that he had escaped all observation.

In that thought, the reporter was wrong. From the time that he had left the Hotel Marathon, a skulking figure had followed him along the opposite side of the street. That same follower had waited outside the drugstore, and had heard Clyde order the taxi man to take him to the Classic.

Now, a fox-faced, dark-sweatered gangster came into view, and scurried away along a side street. The appearance of Bowser Riggins with Clyde Burke at the door of the hotel had been this skulker’s tip to take up the trail.

Such was Goldy Tancred’s game. Secretly, the overlord of racketeers was in league with forces of the underworld. He had forces at his disposal, but he kept them hidden.

A big shot deluxe, Goldy Tancred, like Hector Fawcett, was a power in the menace that was now impending. The black hush that had preceded murder at the Olympia Hotel had been no mystery to Goldy Tancred!

Clyde Burke, agent of The Shadow, had gained a partial inkling of that fact. Soon The Shadow, himself, would visit the abode of Goldy Tancred!