The Honest Dealer

Chapter Nineteen

Three police cars were already parked before 1428 Bonneville, when Catch ’Em Alive Mulligan stopped his car at the curb. Wright, Mulligan and Johnny Fletcher got out.

A couple of uniformed policemen were outside the door of the little cottage. “A sweet job,” one of them commented to Mulligan.

Inside the house were a half dozen policemen and officials. Most of them were in a tiny living room. It was furnished with a day bed, a rough table and three or four chairs. On the floor was the dead body of Jim Langford. He was quite a mess.

A man wearing a leather jacket nodded to Mulligan. “Your wife heard the shooting, Mike.”

“Quite a lot of it, wasn’t there?” said Mulligan, his eyes on the body.

“He’s got four bullets in him and two are in the wall,” replied the man in the leather jacket. Then he saw Johnny Fletcher and looked inquiringly at Mulligan.

“His name’s Fletcher,” said Mulligan. “He knows something about this.”

“Oh?”

Mulligan nodded to the leather-jacketed man. “The chief.”

The chief sized up Johnny. “What do you know about him?”

“His name was Jim Langford,” Johnny replied. “The Chicago police will probably send you a vote of thanks.”

Mulligan said, quickly, “Could I see you a minute, Chief?”

The chief hesitated, still looking at Johnny Fletcher, then he shrugged and led Mulligan into another room. Johnny watched them leave, then stepped gingerly around the body of Jim Langford. There was a burlap sack standing beside the couch. It seemed to be about half filled with some bulky objects, but the top flap of the sack was concealing the contents.

The policemen continued to move about the room.

Johnny seated himself on the couch. His hand fell over the end of the couch, onto the burlap sack. His fingers opened the sack.

“Hey!” exclaimed one of the policemen.

Johnny looked into the mouth of the bag, got a glimpse of leather boots, a round water canteen, the cover encrusted with salt. Then a policeman’s hand knocked away his own. “Don’t touch things!” the policeman snapped.

Mulligan came back into the room, caught Johnny’s eye and signalled to him. Johnny got up and followed Mulligan out of the room and out of the house. Ed Wright remained behind.

“You’re an awfully lucky fellow,” Mulligan said, bleakly as they walked to the curb.

“How do you figure?”

“Because my wife’s a cop’s wife. She heard the shooting and looked at the clock before she phoned Headquarters. You’re safe by ten minutes. The shooting was just about four minutes before I stepped into your room at the hotel... You couldn’t have got there in that time.”

Johnny got into the car beside Mulligan. “Your wife’s a wonderful woman, Mulligan!”

Mulligan turned the car left at the corner and stepped hard on the accelerator. “You can tell her.”

“Good!” said Johnny.

Mulligan drove a block and a half down an unpaved street, then turned into a pair of ruts that led up to his little house.

Mrs. Mulligan came to the door as Mulligan and Johnny got out of the car.

“Nell,” said Mulligan, “this is Johnny Fletcher. My wife, Fletcher...”

Mrs. Mulligan shook hands with Johnny. And then Johnny said to Mulligan, “I see what you mean...”

They went into the house. Mulligan stepped into the little kitchen and got out two bottles of beer. He opened them and handed one to Johnny.

“Sit down a minute.”

Nell Mulligan started for the bedroom door, but turned back. “You’ve been — over there?”

“Yes. The chief told me. You heard the shooting and saw the car drive off — a big limousine, but the distance was too far to see the license number...”

“There were two men in the car...”

“Two?” asked Johnny.

“That’s what I want to talk to you about, Fletcher,” said Mulligan.

“Excuse me,” murmured Mrs. Mulligan. “I’ve got some work to do...”

She disappeared into the bedroom.

Mulligan seated himself on the couch, facing Johnny across the narrow living room. He drank some of his beer. “Two men,” he repeated.

“Carl Shinn... and Bill?”

“What do you think?”

Johnny looked at his bottle of beer and slowly shook his head. “I may be wrong, but somehow I got the idea that Carl Shinn was a tomcat, a snarling tomcat, yes, but still a tomcat... and Jim Langford was another kind of cat...”

“A bigger cat?”

“A wildcat. And Bill... well, Bill was a bulldog. Carl was smarter than Bill, but in a rough and tumble, Bill would have licked Carl. But my money would have been on Langford against both Carl and Bill.”

“Langford’s got four bullets in him,” said Mulligan.

“Well, the gun may have equalized them.”

Mulligan put the beer bottle to his mouth and drank heartily. Then he held the bottle up to the light, noted that there was another good swallow left in it and polished it off. He stood the bottle on the floor.

“Fletcher,” he announced then, “I’m going to tell you something.”

“That Jim Langford killed Harry Bloss?”

“How do you know?”

“I noticed yesterday that Langford was pretty sunburned; recently. And that sack in the room over on Bonneville; it’s got some clothes and a canteen in it. They’re crusted with salt — like you find in Death Valley...”

“All right,” said Mulligan. “I could have grabbed Langford yesterday, even if only for the California people. I suppose you’re wondering why I didn’t?”

“I guess you thought he’d lead you to the boodle.”

Mulligan leaned against the back of the couch and studied Johnny for a moment. “I had an idea you’d figured things out pretty well by now. Go ahead — tell me about it...”

“About the crowd getting to the dealers?”

“Yes.”

“You know more about that than I would,” said Johnny, modestly. “You’ve been on the ground floor and you know the people who got taken...”

“Oh, but they kept it pretty quiet. They don’t like to let those things get around. Gives others ideas... How much would you say they got?”

“A hundred thousand?”

“My guess is two...”

“And Harry Bloss grabbed it all and skipped!”

Mulligan frowned a little. “It looks like that, Fletcher, but that’s something I find it hard to swallow. I knew Harry.”

“You think he was honest?”

“Once, after I’d gone through my pile and didn’t know where my next meal was coming from, Harry bought me a drink... and after he’d gone I found a hundred dollar bill in my pocket.”

“I knew a man in Iowa once,” said Johnny. “The kids used to cross the street to meet him, because he always gave them nickels. He was a teller in a bank and worked there thirty-two years. Then one morning he was gone and so was about half of the bank’s money.”

Catch ’Em Alive Mulligan nodded. “Harry was getting along and he was still dealing at fifteen dollars a day.” He rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. “And he was Jim Langford’s uncle, by marriage. By the way, did you find out yet that Langford was here for a few days some time ago?”

“It ties in. He laid the groundwork, then went away. A few weeks later the team came. They got together two hundred thousand and Uncle Harry took the bag and ran away with it. Nephew Jim followed him... but didn’t get the bag. Which brings us to third base... who is Nick?”

“I’ll bite,” said Mulligan. “Who is Nick?”

“Nick Jones, Nick Bleek, Nick Fenton, Nick Smith, Nick Brown... Take your choice...”

Mulligan shook his head. “I’ve been thinking, Fletcher... you said Bloss died in your arms... could he have been delirious when he talked to you?”

“He was,” said Johnny, “that’s why I’ve practically given up trying to find Nick.”

“But what about the cards?”

“What about them?”

“When the chief took me in the other room he showed me Jim Langford’s effects. There were no cards.”

“I didn’t expect there would be.”

“Why not?”

“Wasn’t that why he was killed?”

Mulligan looked at Johnny through narrowed eyelids. “You’ve been hinting at that before; your theory is that there’s a mysterious Mr. X, who’s the head of the crowd. All right, I’ll buy it... but who is it?”

“If I knew that,” said Johnny, “I’d have an awfully good chance of collecting myself that two hundred thousand.”

“Two hundred thousand is a lot of money,” said Catch ’Em Alive Mulligan. “So’s a hundred thousand, for that matter...”

“A hundred thousand?”

“That’s what I said.”

“I thought your price was two hundred and fifty thousand?”

“I’ve come down.”

Johnny rose to his feet. “I’ve got some things to do if I’m to leave town by nine tomorrow morning.”

“Oh,” said Mulligan, “I wouldn’t leave if I were you. Not yet...”

“You told me...”

“Things have happened since then.” Mulligan got up. “I’ll drive you back to the hotel...”

Mulligan’s wife came out of the bedroom. “Good-bye, Mr. Fletcher,” she said.

“It’s been a pleasure...”

Johnny went out and climbed into the car. Mulligan remained in the house for a minute or two. When he came out he climbed in behind the wheel. He began driving without looking at Johnny and the latter, sensing that Mulligan was through talking, remained quiet.

Mulligan pulled up in front of the hotel entrance, let Johnny out and drove off without saying a word.

Johnny entered the casino and found Sam Cragg at a nickel slot machine. He grinned foolishly.

“I never saw dice so cold in my life.”

“You mean you’re broke?”

“I got these nickels left.”

He exhibited a handful of nickels. Johnny struck the hand and the nickels scattered over the floor.

“Leave them for the birds,” he said loftily. “And come watch me warm up the dice...”

They came up to the crap table just as a woman player threw a twelve and used some unladylike language. She threw down another dollar.

“If I crap again,” she said angrily, “I’m throwing these dice away...”

“Double up, lady,” Johnny said, cheerfully. “I’m betting with you and you can’t lose...”

The woman gave him a contemptuous glance and shook up the dice. Johnny dropped eight yellow chips on the pass line. The dice came up seven and the woman shot Johnny a quick glance.

“I’ll shoot it,” she exclaimed.

Johnny, already betting the limit, was compelled to draw back his two hundred. He handed the checks to Sam Cragg and gave him a signal to bet them all.

The little lady who had been throwing nothing but craps before now began throwing nothing but naturals — sevens and elevens. She made seven passes, then Johnny shifted his money to “No Pass” and the woman promptly sevened out.

“Hey — what gives here?” she cried. “The minute you get off me, I seven out...”

“You’ve got some yellow checks now,” said Johnny. “Be satisfied.”

Gilbert Honsinger came out of his office and seeing Johnny, strolled over. Johnny bet with a player for two passes, then went against him and so the dice came to him.

“How much can you spare?” he said mockingly to Honsinger.

Honsinger shook his head. “We’re having a little game right after dinner.”

Johnny dropped the dice on the table. “In that case I think I’ll get rested up.”

“About seven.”

Johnny nodded and was about to start off when a bellboy came into the casino and called out, “Paging Mr. Fletcher...!”

Johnny signalled to the bellboy.

“My name’s Fletcher, son.”

“Telephone call for you.”

“I’ll take it in my room,” said Johnny. “Here...” He tossed the boy a yellow check and the boy almost fainted.

Johnny went ahead of Sam, hurrying to their room in the cabana. He wasted a couple of seconds trying to unlock the door, then discovered that it was already unlocked. Inside his room the phone began ringing.

He slammed open the door and stopped when he saw Jane Langford seated in an armchair.

“Hello,” he said and crossed to the phone. He picked it up. “Yes?”

“Mr. Fletcher,” said the voice of Walter Cobb. “Beeler just called again.”

“What is it?”

“He was unable to get a thing on Halton — no one by that name was ever All-American.”

“What else?”

“He got some things on the Bloss family.”

“Forget them!”

Cobb’s voice protested. “But, Mr. Fletcher, this is quite interesting...”

“Forget it,” Johnny repeated, looking at Jane Bloss Langford.

“You mean you don’t want anything more from Beeler?”

“That’s right.”

“...Or is it that you can’t talk?”

“No — I got my information about them right here,” said Johnny and hung up.

Sam Cragg appeared in the doorway.

“Molly just called,” Johnny told him. “She wants you to come over and have a cocktail...”

Sam was pleased. “Where is she — at the bar?”

“No, she’s in her room...”

Sam grinned foolishly and went off. Johnny crossed the room and closed the door.

“I heard about... Jim...” said Jane Langford. Johnny nodded and made no reply. “I suppose it’s horrible,” Jane went on, “but he had it coming, didn’t he...?”

“Yes.”

“Was he the one...?”

“...Who killed your uncle?”

“Yes.”

Johnny nodded. Jane looked at him steadily for a moment, then exhaled wearily. “You’ve been looking for someone named Nick.” She paused. “When I was a little girl in Chicago, my uncle used to visit us... before he went off and became a professional gambler... He used to call me... Nikki...”

She reached into a pocket of her suit and brought out a box of playing cards.

Johnny went to her and took the cards. He glanced at them, then looked inquiringly at Jane.

“I found them here in the drawer last night.” She gestured to the door that connected Johnny’s room and her own. “Your side isn’t locked...”

Johnny took the cards out of the box and fanned them out. “You’ve looked at these?”

She nodded. “There’s nothing wrong with them.”

“Yet I have reason to believe that your — that Jim Langford was killed because of these cards.”

She looked up at him miserably. “I seem to be the pivot in all this... my uncle, then my husband...” She broke off as Johnny stooped suddenly and kissed her.

At that moment Sam Cragg slammed open the door. “Hey!” he cried, “she ain’t in her room...” Then he whistled. “Oh-oh!”

Johnny stepped back from Jane Langford and glowered at Sam. “Sometimes, Sam, I wonder why I ever put up with you...”

Jane Langford got up. “It’s all right.” She smiled wanly at Sam and without looking at Johnny, went out. Johnny stepped to the connecting door, saw that the latch on his side was open and tried the knob. It turned but the door didn’t give. It was locked on her side.

He let go of the knob and turned to Sam.

“Aw, gee, Johnny... how was I to know...?”

Johnny said, “I just remembered I didn’t have lunch... and it’s dinner time.”