The Soft Centre

Chapter Ten

The police search for Jacko and Moe had been intensified. Every officer that Terrell could spare was now thrown into the hunt. Somewhat late in the day, road blocks were set up.

Officers Tom Lepski and Bill Williams were told to go to Lee Hardy’s penthouse.

Beigler said, “You won’t find those two hoods there, but they might have been there. Get rough with that pug-faced girl. She might have seen something. Put pressure on Hardy. He could have staked them to get rid of them. Check his bank. See if he has made a big withdrawal yesterday or today.”

“We’ll go to the bank first,” Lepski said to Williams as they got into their car. “I’d like to have a few facts to ram down Hardy’s throat.”

Williams, a tall, youngish man who spent most of his time in the fingerprint department was resentful that he should have been taken from his safe desk and teamed with a crazy man like Lepski. He was sure Lepski could lead him into trouble. The thought of suddenly being confronted by two such vicious thugs as Jacko and Moe scared him. It was all very well for Lepski who had had years of experience handling thugs. He was unmarried and as reckless as a madman. Williams up to now had managed to keep clear of violence. Besides, his wife was expecting their third baby. What would happen to her if he got killed?

Lepski, wiry, tough, his sun-tanned face lined and his clear blue eyes alert, drove the police car swiftly to the Commercial and South Banking Corporation where he knew Hardy banked.

“What’s the matter with you?” he demanded, as he weaved the car expertly through the heavy traffic. “You look like you swallowed a bee.”

Williams shifted uneasily.

“There’s nothing the matter with me,” he said shortly. He couldn’t admit he was sick with fear. That kind of confession might get back to Terrell.

Lepski poked his head out of the car window and cursed a driver who was trying to cut in. The driver started to curse back, then seeing the black and white stripe on the car with the word POLICE on the hood, he hurriedly bit back his angry words.

Lepski sneered at him, then turned his attention once more to Williams.

“Relax. You can only die once. I’d rather get a slug in the gut than cancer.”

Williams flinched. He shifted lower in the car seat. His hot, sweating hand moved inside his coat and touched the butt of his.38. The feel of the cold metal gave him no comfort.

Parking, the two men walked into the bank and after a brief wait, they were shown into the manager’s office.

The manager, lean and balding, was one of the best.22 rifle shots in Miami. He had shot against Lepski often enough and Lepski was one of the few members of the rifle dub who could match him. He beamed as he shook hands.

“I’ll be at the club tonight,” he said. “I have a pal coming who can shoot nearly as good as I can. Will you be there, Tom?”

“I guess not,” Lepski said regretfully. “I have a murder hunt in my hair. If I can, I will if only to show your pal a trick or two.”

The manager whose name was Werner, laughed.

“What’s this murder hunt, Tom?”

“A couple of hoods. Look, you could help. I don’t expect you to give bank secrets away, but this is important. Has Lee Hardy asked you for money... today or yesterday.”

“Now, Tom, you know that’s not a proper question to ask.”

“Yeah, but we have reason to believe Hardy could have staked these two for a quick getaway. They are his men. So far they have murdered three not-so-important people. If we don’t find them fast, they could murder others... more important.”

Werner looked shocked. He hesitated, then said, “All I can tell you is a certain party came here and wanted five thousand dollars. He was in the red, and I wouldn’t give him credit. He was here around ten o’clock this morning.”

“Thanks,” Lepski said. “Maybe I will be seeing you at the club tonight after all.”

When they got back to their car, Lepski said, “Now we’ll go talk to Hardy.”

“Think it would be an idea to call the Chief?” Williams asked without much hope. “Maybe he would want to talk to Hardy himself.”

“We go talk to Hardy,” Lepski repeated and started the car. As he moved the car into the stream of traffic he went on, “How are you with a gun, Bill?”

“Not so good,” Williams said, sweat on his face. “I haven’t been to the range for a couple of years. You know, Tom, this is beginning to bother me. Suppose we walk into those two?”

“What two?” Lepski asked. “You mean Jacko and Moe? So what? They either come quietly or they come dead. Even if you are a lousy shot you couldn’t miss a fat slob as big as Jacko. Shoot him in the gut... that’ll let the gas out of him!”

“Those two are pretty handy with a gun themselves,” Williams said miserably. “My wife is expecting a baby.”

“Is that right? Well, so long as you don’t have the baby, why should you worry?” Lepski said and swinging the car into a parking bay, he switched off the ignition. “Come on: let’s go talk to Hardy.”

The two men walked down the street until they came to Hardy’s apartment block. Nearby, Lepski spotted a patrol officer. He signalled to him. The officer hurried up.

“Look, Jamey, I’m going to talk to Lee Hardy. I don’t expect trouble, but I could walk into it. If you hear guns, get the boys. Understand? Don’t come up and be a hero: get the boys. Then get back here and pop those two if they come out... we’re after Jacko and Moe.”

That seemed to make sense to the officer and Williams, who was now feeling pretty sick, envied him.

“Okay. There’s a call booth at the end of the road,” the officer said. “I hear shooting and I’ll be in there faster than a Sputnik.”

Lepski sneered at him, then nodding to Williams, he walked into the apartment block.

The porter, standing behind the big desk, eyed him suspiciously. He recognised him as a cop.

“Seen Mr. Hardy go up?” Lepski asked.

“He went up five minutes ago,” the porter said. “If you want him, I’ll call him.”

“No, you don’t,” Lepski said, giving the porter a hard stare. “Keep your paws off the telephone or I’ll make your future life a misery.”

Then again nodding to Williams, he went across the lobby and entered the elevator. As they ascended to the top floor, Williams said, “So what do we do now?”

“I’m not expecting trouble,” Lepski said. “Hardy wouldn’t be such a mug as to hide those two in his place. I ring on the bell and walk in. You keep out of sight, behind the wall. If trouble starts, then come in shooting, but for God’s sake make sure you don’t shoot me. Get it?”

Williams said he got it.

The elevator came to a halt opposite Hardy’s ornate front door. Lepski and Williams moved out into the wide corridor. Lepski showed Williams where he should stand. He winked at him.

“Don’t lay an egg,” he said. “This should be an easy one.”

Williams watched him step up to the front door and ring the bell. He had to admire Lepski’s cool courage. He was no more ruffled than if he were calling on a Mormon Bishop.

There was a pause, then the door opened and Gina stood there. Lepski could see into the lounge. Hardy and a tall, slim girl were staring towards him. He didn’t hesitate. He walked forward, riding Gina out of his way.

“Hey! Who are you?” Gina said shrilly. “What...?”

But by then Lepski had entered the lounge. He and Hardy looked at each other. Hardy knew Lepski and he lost colour.

“What do you mean busting in like this?” he blustered. “I’m busy. What is it?”

Lepski was now looking at Val with puzzled, probing eyes. Where had he seen this girl before? he asked himself. Who was she?

“Take it easy,” he said to Hardy. “I don’t know your girlfriend. Show some manners. Introduce me.”

“When I want you in my place, I’ll invite you,” Hardy snarled. “You...”

“I said introduce me, boy.”

Gina came in.

“This is Mary Sherrek of the Miami Sun,” she said.

Lepski knew Mary Sherrek well. She often bothered him, trying to get information. He looked steadily at Val who faced him, her eyes big, her body tense.

“Is that right? I’m Detective Officer Tom Lepski. Always glad to meet the Press.”

“Miss Sherrek is leaving,” Gina said.

“Not right now.” Lepski moved so he could watch the three of them. “She could have a nice little story for her paper. I’m great at giving press handouts. Stick around, sister. Get your little book ready.”

Hardy said, “Just what do you want?”

“Jacko and Moe. Where are they?”

“Why ask me? I don’t know.”

Lepski spotted the brief-case lying on the settee.

“The Chief thinks otherwise. Those two are wanted for three murders. Now’s the time to flap with your mouth or you can get caught with an accessory rap.”

Hardy hesitated. He was horribly aware that Jacko and Moe, in the bedroom, were listening.

“I tell you I haven’t seen them for a couple of days,” he said finally.

“Too bad... for you,” Lepski said and moved quickly to the brief-case, picked it up, snapped open the lock and emptied its contents on the settee.

Hardy cursed and moved towards Lepski who turned and grinned savagely at him.

“Want a poke in the kisser, Hardy?” he asked. “What’s all this money for?”

“It’s betting money.” Hardy said. “Now, get out of here!”

“I guess I’ll look the joint over before I go,” Lepski said. “Just in case...”

“Not without a warrant!”

“I can get one, but I’ll look now.”

“You do it and I’ll see you lose your badge,” Hardy said. “I mean just that!”

Lepski knew he could get into trouble if he searched the penthouse without a warrant. Hardy had connections with people important enough to put him in Dutch.

“Then I’ll get a warrant. I have a couple of men outside. Why waste time, if you have nothing to hide?”

“Get out of here!” Hardy repeated.

Lepski shrugged.

“Okay, but I’ll be back.” He started towards the door. “Remember, there are two of my men outside. You stay right here until I get back.” As he passed Val, he took a firm grip on her arm. “Let’s go, Miss Sherrek. I have a story for you...”

Hardy and Gina stood motionless, watching Lepski lead Val out of the penthouse. Lepski closed the door behind him.

Williams, sweat beading his face, drew in a long slow breath of relief at the sight of Lepski.

“Okay?” he asked, staring at Val.

“I don’t know. You stick here,” Lepski said. “Don’t let anyone out. I’m getting a warrant. If anyone tries to leave, get tough. Me and the little lady are going to headquarters. You’ll have the boys with you in ten minutes.”

Williams gulped.

“Ten minutes?”

Lepski moved Val to the elevator.

“That’s what the man said.” He nodded and thumbed the button. The doors swished to and the elevator began its smooth descent.

“Just who are you?” Lepski said, staring at Val with his hard cop’s eyes. “You’re not Mary Sherrek. I know her... so who are you?”

“There was a mistake,” Val said, fighting her panic. “That man thought I was Miss Sherrek.”

“You don’t work for the Miami Sun. I know all the dopes on that rag,” Lepski said. “You’ll have to come to headquarters, baby. The Chief will want to talk to you.”

Val controlled the urge to run. She stiffened and gave Lepski a cold stare.

“If you must know: I am Mrs. Valerie Burnett. My father is Charles Travers. You may have heard of him. I am not going with you!”

Lepski recognised her then. He felt as if he had stepped on the teeth of a rake and had the rake handle slam him in the face.

“I didn’t know,” he said, sure Terrell would skin him if he caused trouble with the daughter of Charles Travers. “I’m Sorry.”

Val forced a smile.

“It’s all right,” she said and walked quickly out of the lobby. Lepski followed more slowly. He saw her wave to a taxi, get in and the cab drive away. The Patrol Officer joined him.

“Stick right here,” Lepski said. “There could be trouble. Williams is up there. I’m getting a search warrant. Watch it!”

Leaving the Patrol Officer staring after him, Lepski sprinted for his car.

Jacko came out of the bedroom. His fat face was running with sweat: his mean little eyes vicious.

“Let’s have the money,” he said. “We’re off!”

“You heard what he said,” Hardy exclaimed. “You can’t go that way. There are cops out there!”

Moe slid into the room.

“No cop is stopping us,” he said. “Let’s have the dough.”

“You can’t do it!” Hardy said, trying to control the quaver in his voice. “You start shooting and they’ll know I’ve been hiding you. We’ve got to think...”

“Shut up!” Jacko snarled. He waddled over to the settee and began cramming the money into the brief-case. He mapped the case shut, then took Hardy’s gun from his hip pocket and gave it to Moe.

“Now, wait... for God’s sake!” Hardy said.

“The girl...” Jacko jerked his head at Gina.

“You leave her alone...” Hardy began when Moe reached him. Moe hit him on the side of his head with his gun barrel. Hardy went down on hands and knees.

As Gina opened her mouth to scream, Jacko dug a hard fat finger into her stomach. She jack-knifed forward, gasping. He grabbed her and shook her viciously. The smell of stale sweat coming from him sickened her.

“Shut up!” he said. “You go out there and talk to the cops. You make one false move and you’ll get a second navel! Out!”

He gave her a shove towards the door. She staggered, recovered her balance, then under the threat of Jacko’s gun, crossed the lobby. Jacko and Moe followed her. Jacko motioned her to open the front door. She hesitated, then opening the door, she stepped into the corridor.

Williams, gun in hand, gaped at her. Sweat beaded his face, his mouth was dry. He was scared out of his wits.

Gina stood staring at him.

“Get back!” Williams said. “You stay right in there... go on... get back!”

Then Moe like an evil black ghost, slid around the doorway and his gun spat flame.

Williams didn’t even see him. He felt a shocking thump in the middle of his chest and the gun slipped out of his hand. He went down, his face scraping along the lush carpet of the corridor. He came to rest at Gina’s feet. For a long moment, he twisted and turned, then he became still. Gina clapped her hands across her mouth and backed away from Moe who come further out into the corridor, his black eyes rolling, his mouth a vicious line. He paused to make certain there was no other cop in the corridor, then he moved into the elevator. Jacko came waddling out, carrying the brief-case. He was panting, his face ashen. He threw himself into the elevator as Moe groped for the button.

Hardy, rolling on his side, looked through the open doors of the lounge and the front door. He saw Jacko’s massive body against the grill of the elevator. He pulled his borrowed gun from his hip pocket and fired in one lightning movement. The gun exploded as the elevator doors swished shut.

Falling on her knees, Gina began to scream.

Moe heard the shot and saw Jacko heave back. He watched with horrified eyes the great mountain of fat slowly collapse like a stricken elephant. He saw the splash of blood below Jacko’s left hand shirt pocket. He didn’t have to touch Jacko to know that Hardy had killed him. Shuddering, his black face glistening with sweat, his lips drawn off his teeth, Moe snatched up the brief-case.

As the elevator came to rest and the doors swung open, Patrol Officer Jamey, gun in hand, came rushing blindly into the lobby. The two men fired simultaneously. Jamey’s slug nicked Moe’s left ear. Moe’s slug took Jamey squarely between the eyes. Jamey went down like a pole-axed bull.

The sound of the shooting brought people out on to the street. Cars stopped. Two or three women began to scream.

Moe, panting, ran down the corridor to the basement stairs. The Janitor, poking his head out of his office, saw him, gave a smothered yell and threw himself flat on the floor. Moe swept past him and down the stairs.

Cursing, Moe blundered along a dimly lit corridor as the approaching sound of Police sirens added to his panic. He reached a door, pulled back two bolts, dragged the door open and stepped into hot sunshine and a narrow alley that led to the waterfront. He ran down the alley, paused at the end of it and looked back. There was a woman leaning out of a window in the apartment block, staring down at him: a fat, middle-aged woman with blue dyed hair. As she saw him look at her, she started back and began to scream.

Moe shoved the gun into the waistband of his jeans and walked quickly along the waterfront. Within fifty yards was Fris-Fris’s bar. Fris-Fris had once been Moe’s lover. He was a fat, elderly Jamaican, a reefer addict, who made a reasonable living organising a Call-boy service for the degenerate rich of Miami.

Moe entered the dark little bar. At this hour, only Fris-Fris was in the bar. He was dozing behind the counter, a sporting sheet spread out before him, a cup of cold coffee near at hand.

Moe grabbed his arm.

“Fris! Get me under cover! The cops are after me!”

Fris-Fris sprang out of his daydreams. He moved with the smoothness of a snake. Holding Moe’s arm, he drew him into a room at the back of the bar, pulled aside a curtain, shoved Moe into another room where a man slept on a straw mattress, past the sleeping man and into a narrow corridor.

Fris-Fris fiddled with a hidden catch: a panel that looked like a continuation of the wooden wall slid back and he shoved Moe into a small recess.

“Wait, I’ll fix it,” he said and closed the panel.

He scurried back to the bar, settled himself and closed his eyes. A minute later, two patrol officers came in. One of them reached across the bar and slapped Fris-Fris across his fat face.

“Wake up, Queen,” the officer barked. “Where’s Moe Lincoln?”

Fris-Fris blinked the tears out of his eyes.

“Lincoln? I haven’t seen him in weeks.”

The two officers, guns in hands, went through the sordid little building, but they didn’t find Moe.

While the hunt for Moe was going on, the news of Williams’s death was flashed to police headquarters.

Terrell and Beigler bundled into a police car and rushed over to Hardy’s penthouse. Lepski was already there.

Hardy lay on the settee. A livid bruise from Moe’s gun showed on his white face. Gina, sick looking, her eyes dark with fear, sat in an armchair, sipping whisky.

Lepski was prowling around the room, jumpy and ready to hit out at anyone.

As Terrell and Beigler entered the apartment block, four white coated interns staggered out, carrying Jacko’s gross body on a stretcher. Terrell stared at the vast mound of flesh, hidden under the sheet, grunted and then walked with Beigler to the elevator.

“This slob was hiding them,” Lepski said as Terrell and Beigler came into the penthouse. “I don’t give a damn what he says... he was hiding them!”

“Okay,” Terrell said. “Get after Lincoln. Tom. I’ll handle this.”

Lepski snarled at Hardy who had slowly sat up. Then he walked out of the lounge.

Hardy knew as he met Terrell’s cold, hostile eyes, that this was his moment of truth. He had either to play his cards right or he would land in the gas chamber.

“Chief... they came here last night,” he said. “Jacko and Moe. I was out. They settled in: threatening Miss Lang. When I came in, they told me they had knocked off Henekey. He had double-crossed them in some deal. They didn’t say what. They wanted a getaway stake... five thousand. At first, I wouldn’t play, but they had me. They said if I didn’t give them the money, they would crucify Gina Miss Lang. Those were Jacko’s very words. When that hood promises to do something like that... he does it. So I got the money. Then Lepski came here. Those two were in the bedroom. They heard Lepski tell me there was an officer outside. When Lepski left, they forced Gina to go out there and talk to the officer, then Moe went out and killed him.” Dramatically, Hardy tossed his automatic on the table. “I killed Jacko. I admit it. When I heard the shooting, I grabbed my gun and fired at him as he got into the elevator.”

“All right,” Terrell said curtly. “Let’s start again.” He looked at Beigler. “Let’s have it down in writing.”

It was a little after five o’clock that evening that Terrell heard from Lepski that he had met Val Burnett in Hardy’s penthouse and that she had been there representing the Miami Sun.

Terrell was both tired and worried. Moe Lincoln had again slipped through the police dragnet. Terrell had arrested Lee Hardy for killing Jacko, but Hardy’s lawyer had got Hardy out of the hands of the police on bail. Hardy had claimed he had been forced to kill Jacko as Jacko was about to shoot Gina. As Gina supported this story, there was nothing Terrell could do but to allow Hardy out on bail.

At first he couldn’t believe that Val Burnett had masqueraded as a press reporter, but when Lepski had finally convinced him, he got in his car and drove fast to the Spanish Bay hotel.

Val received him in the sitting-room of her suite.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Burnett,” Terrell said as he came into the room. “I understand from one of my officers that you were in Hardy’s penthouse a few minutes before this shooting affair.”

Val, who had been expecting this call, had prepared her story, and although she was tense, she faced Terrell calmly enough.

“Yes, I was there. It was very stupid of me,” she said. “Do sit down. Of course you want an explanation.”

Terrell sat down.

“I understand you told Hardy you were Mary Sherrek of the Miami Sun, Mrs. Burnett. Is that correct?”

Val sat down, facing Terrell.

“Yes. It was like this: Miss Sherrek wanted to go home. She was short of money. I was sorry for her so I bought her press card. I suppose I had no right to do it, but I wanted an excuse to help her and I also wanted to amuse myself.”

“She had no right to sell the card to you,” Terrell said sharply. “I don’t understand: just why did you buy it?”

“Oh, a sudden impulse.” Val made a vague gesture with her hands. “I suppose it is difficult for you to understand my position. I am wealthy. I have nothing to do. I have always been fascinated by crime.” She forced a smile. “This woman’s murder... Sue Parnell... more than interested me. I’ve followed the case in the papers. It suddenly occurred to me while I was talking to the girl it would be amusing and interesting to meet some of the people connected with the case. I realised if I had a press card, I could go to these people’s homes and talk to them. So I just couldn’t resist the temptation and I bought the card from this girl. I called on Mr. Hardy. You’ll probably think this is rather morbid, but people like myself who have too much money and not enough to do, do these things for... for kicks.”

Terrell stared at her. He didn’t believe a word she was saying, but he had to be careful.

“It was a very foolish and dangerous thing to have done, Mrs. Burnett,” he said finally.

“Yes, wasn’t it? Well, I’m sorry if I have caused trouble. Perhaps you will be kind enough to write it off as a silly, rich woman’s whim.”

Terrell wasn’t to be taken in by this kind of humility.

“When you were in the penthouse,” he said, “had you any idea these two killers were there?”

“Oh of course not!”

“Could I have Sherrek’s press card, please?”

Val stiffened, then stared steadily at him.

“I hope you’re not going to make trouble for the girl,” she said. “I wouldn’t like that. All this is entirely my fault. I destroyed the card when I got back here.”

Terrell shifted ground.

“There’s another thing, Mrs. Burnett. It has come to my knowledge that you have given Homer Hare twenty thousand dollars. He claims it is a retainer for work to be done. I admit this isn’t my business, but I feel it is my duty to warn you that Hare is thoroughly unreliable and thoroughly dishonest.” He hesitated, then went on, “On the face of it, Mrs. Burnett, it seems to me that Hare might be blackmailing you. Nothing would please me more than to put him away for fourteen years. Anything you wish to tell me that would enable me to get a conviction against him would be in the strictest confidence, I assure you of that.” He paused, then went on. “Is there anything you would care to tell me?”

Val felt cold. She sat for a long moment staring at Terrell, then she said, “I gave this man the money because I want him to do certain very confidential work for me. There is no question of blackmail.” She got to her feet. “Thank you for your offer of help, but it is quite unnecessary. Please accept my apologies for my foolishness.”

Terrell shrugged and stood up.

“All right, Mrs. Burnett, but if you change your mind, you know where to find me. If I can be of help let me know.” He moved to the door, then pausing, he said, “I’m sorry, but this isn’t the end of the matter. Hardy is coming up on a manslaughter charge. He could call you as a witness. I’m not satisfied you have told me the truth. Think about it. People have found it is better to have me on their side than against them.”

He went out and shut the door quietly behind him.

The time was seven-fifteen. Homer Hare, Sam Karsh and Lucille were in conference. Sam Karsh had just got back from hospital where he had been treated for bruises and shock. It had taken him more than seven hours to recover enough from the police beating to get back to the office. Even now, he held an ice-bag to his aching eye and he moaned now and then. Neither Hare, who was munching chicken sandwiches, nor Lucille paid any attention to him.

“I said from the beginning I didn’t like it,” Lucille said, “and now this.”

“Terrell’s bluffing,” Hare said, his mouth full. “He can’t prove the money isn’t a retainer. The Burnett woman won’t talk. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah?” Karsh whined. “How’s about me? Look at the way those Nazis beat me up! Know what they said? They said every time they see me in the car, they will frame me for a traffic violation and they’ll do it! Look at my eye!”

“Oh shut up about your damned eye!” Lucille exclaimed shrilly. “Who cares? I think...”

The buzzer sounded in the outer office. The three of them looked uneasily at each other. Then Lucille got to her feet and was moving to the door when it opened. Even Hare was startled to see Val standing in the doorway. With an effort, he switched on his oily smile and got to his feet. He bowed elaborately.

“Mrs. Burnett: I am honoured. Please come in.”

Val looked from him to Lucille and then to Karsh who hurriedly hid the ice-bag behind him and stared at her uneasily.

“All right, children,” Hare said smoothly. “Run along. Mrs. Burnett doesn’t want you here.”

“But I do,” Val said with quiet determination. She moved further into the office and closed the door. She was pale but there was an expression in her eyes and a hardness around her mouth that made Hare look sharply at her. “I think your two assistants know you are blackmailing me.”

Karsh flinched and turned a putty white. Even Lucille, her eyes glittering, stiffened.

“Now, Mrs. Burnett, we mustn’t have that kind of talk here,” Hare said, his voice suddenly harsh.

“That is exactly the kind of talk we are going to have,” Val said. She walked to the chair opposite Hare’s desk and sat down. “I have been talking to the Chief of Police. He tells me he wants to send you to prison for fourteen years. He seemed quite serious about it.”

Hare lowered his bulk bark into his chair.

“What he would like to do, Mrs. Burnett and what he can do are two very different things.”

Val gazed steadily at him.

“But he can do it. I have only to tell him you and your assistants blackmailed me for you and your assistants to go to prison for fourteen years.”

Karsh said hurriedly, “Don’t bring me into this...”

Hare glared at him.

“Shut up!” To Val he said, “Surely, Mrs. Burnett, I don’t I have to remind you of the consequences if you confide in Terrell. I admit we would get into trouble, but Terrell could not overlook the fact that your husband is a murderer. I was under the impression that you paid the money to keep that fact quiet.”

Val shook her head.

“Oh no, I didn’t,” she said. “I gave you the money to establish the fact that you were blackmailing me. The police and my bank have the numbers of all the bills. The police know I gave you the money. They would have no difficulty in proving you did blackmail me and your assistants had a part in it.”

“Now, wait...” Karsh began, sweat breaking out on his face.

“Will you shut up!” Hare barked. “I think you are bluffing, Mrs. Burnett. Am I to understand you don’t mind your husband being tried for murder?”

“Oh, yes, I mind,” Val said quietly, “but I am not submitting to blackmail. I’ve thought about it. It is better for my husband to stand trial than to pay blackmail. You hold the only evidence against him: the police will want to know why you didn’t give them this evidence: that, coupled with the fact they know I paid you all this money will send you to prison almost as long as the sentence my husband would get.”

Hare began to feel uneasy.

“I still think you are bluffing,” he said. “Your husband will spend the rest of his days in a criminal asylum.”

“It is possible, but we will hire very clever attorneys,” Val said. “He could get off sooner than that. I’m not bluffing.” She reached across the desk and picked up the telephone receiver. “If you think I am, then I’m calling the Chief of Police.”

Karsh shouted, “Stop! Don’t do it!”

Val replaced the receiver and looked at Karsh who was glaring at Hare.

“You fat old fool! I warned you! She’s got us! Now you shut up for a change. I’m going to handle this!”

Hare, livid, started to say something, but Lucille cut in. “Let him handle it. I said all along I didn’t like it.”

Hare hesitated, then swung his chair around so his back was to Val. He looked like a man about to have a stroke.

Karsh said, “Mrs. Burnett, I want you to believe neither my wife nor me wanted anything to do with this. Look, we’ll give you back the money and the evidence. If we do that, will you forget it? We don’t want trouble with the police and you don’t want trouble for your husband. That’s right, isn’t it?”

Hare snarled. “You bird brain! She’s bluffing!”

Val looked at Karsh.

“Give me the jacket and the lighter and the money.” Her heart was pounding, but she managed to look straight at Karsh although she was a lot more frightened than he. “And I’ll forget I’ve ever been here.”

Karsh hurried to the safe. He took out the parcel containing the jacket. To this he added the gold cigarette lighter. Then picking up the brief-case containing the twenty thousand dollars, he handed the three articles to Val.

When she had gone, Hare threw the remains of his chicken sandwich across the office.

“Fools! Couldn’t you see she was bluffing? You’ve let half a million dollars walk out of here!”

“Yeah?” Karsh sneered, pressing the ice-bag against his aching eye, “then why are you wasting good food? If we’re going to be all that poor, you’ll need every crumb you can find.”