Lucky Stiff by Craig Rice (ebook pdf reader for pc TXT) 📖

to me. He said the whole thing was fixed up, and I didn’t need to worry. After that girl was convicted, I was warned to go on keeping my mouth shut. I had to. Because, you see, there’s Helene—”

“Yes, yes, yes, I know,” Malone said quickly. “Helene, and the Casino, and all the rest of it. You don’t need to go on. You don’t even need to tell me that if you hadn’t believed, right up to the last, that Anna Marie St. Clair would be saved, you’d have told your story, warnings or no warnings.”

Jake looked at the floor and said, “Well you see—well, yes, that’s it. But then at the last—when it began to look as though the girl was really headed for the chair—I couldn’t stand it, Casino or no Casino. Something had to be done.”

“You could have gone to the police,” Malone said quietly.

“Would you mind letting me tell this in my own way?” Jake said. “I went to The Happy Days saloon and sat there in a booth nursing a beer and hoping someone would come and contact me. Eventually, Ambersley showed up. Maybe he just dropped by, or maybe someone there sent for him to come and talk to me. Anyway, he told me two things. One, that Anna Marie St. Clair was scheduled for a reprieve and a new trial. Two, that if I didn’t keep my mouth shut in the meantime I was just as likely as not to be a widower.”

“They threatened Helene,” Malone said, chewing on his cigar, “and you fell for it.”

“They did, and I did,” Jake said grimly. “Those guys don’t play.”

Malone said, “Neither does Helene. God help them if they ever mix up with her.”

“Yesterday,” Jake said in a low voice, “I went to the D.A.‘s office. They laughed at me. They called me a liar. And when they asked me how I happened to be on the scene and why I hadn’t come forward before, I couldn’t tell them. Because”—he paused, gulped—“if anything ever happened to Helene—”

Malone said, “Never mind. And you’re still paying off.”

“At this rate,” Jake said, “I’ll be broke in six months. But that isn’t the reason. After last night—” he paused, gulped. “That girl was murdered. I’d like to lay hands on her murderer. I’d like to know who’s running this racket. I thought it was Big Joe Childers, but he’s dead, and I’m still paying.”

“Are you suggesting,” Malone said, “that you’d like to engage my services?”

“Look, Malone—” Jake began.

“I hate to bust up a good racket,” Malone said, “because for all I know, I may be getting income from it, through one source or another. But since it’s you,” he added coyly, “my services can be had, for a small sum, of course.”

“Helene mustn’t know about it,” Jake said. “She’s got to be kept out of it.”

“Naturally,” Malone said. “Or else she’ll do the job herself and I’ll lose a fee. Now tell me about this guy Ambersley—”

The door opened. Maggie said helplessly, “Mr. Malone—” A small woman in black, with a green-feathered hat, marched imperiously into the room. She nodded to Maggie, said, “Thank you, my dear.” Then, to Malone, “I’m sure you don’t mind my coming right in. It’s really quite urgent that I see you, immediately.” She gave Jake a glance indicating that he was as welcome as a stepchild with scarlet fever.

Malone rose. “Glad to see you, Mrs. Childers. You know Mr. Justus?”

She raked him over with a glance and said, “Delighted.”

“Delighted to meet you,” Jake said. “Have a drink?” He absent-mindedly held out his own glass.

“Thank you,” she said. “I don’t drink.”

“Suit yourself,” Jake said. “Do you smoke, swear, spit, or what do you do?”

Eva Childers looked away and said, “Mr. Malone—” The little lawyer cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, Jake—”

There was a slight commotion behind the door, and it opened again. Maggie said in a despairing voice, “Mr. Malone, I simply couldn’t—”

Malone said wearily, “You’re fired,” as Helene walked leisurely into the room, peeling off her gloves.

She stood there, a tall, lovely, slender figure. For a moment Malone forgot all his problems and gazed at her. He observed that there was a faint pink in her cheeks and that she was slightly out of breath. He braced himself for trouble.

Helene said, “Jake darling, I’m so sorry I was late. I waited in that bar for an hour. It’s my fault, my watch had stopped.”

Jake opened his mouth to say, “Huh,” caught a signaling wink from her, and shut it again.

“Mrs. Childers!” Helene beamed. “How nice to see you again! We met at Mrs. McClane’s garden party, remember?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, of course,” Eva Childers said. She certainly did remember that garden party. It had taken a lot of doing to wangle an invitation to it. Her dark eyes narrowed. Maybe she’d been mistaken in her suspicions of Helene. After all, she’d been Helene Brand, heiress, only daughter of one of the families. Eva Childers concentrated on looking friendly, charming, and, of course, ladylike.

“I’ve wanted so many times to call you,” Helene gushed on, “but I’d lost your phone number. Wasn’t that silly of me? I’d simply adore to have lunch with you someday soon.”

“That would be—”

Before Eva Childers could think of a synonym for “wonderful” Helene had gone on. “How about tomorrow noon? One o’clock? Pierre’s? Oh, grand. I’m so glad I ran into you here. Is Mr. Malone your lawyer, too?”

“Well—” Eva Childers began.

“Aren’t you lucky! He’s simply marvelous! Oh Mrs. Childers, I’m insane about your hat! You must have had it made specially for you. It’s the most becoming thing—”

Malone said, “If you please—”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Helene gasped. “I’m keeping you from talking business. Jake, angel, did Mr. Malone settle that point about Uncle Arthur’s will?”

Jake swallowed hard and said grimly, “Yes, dear. We can’t break it. The Associated Dog and Cat Clinic get every penny of it.”

“What a shame,” Eva Childers said sympathetically.

“Mrs. Justus,” Malone said. He was fighting off a conviction that in thirty more seconds he was going to lose his mind.

“I do wish we could all dash out for a drink or something,” Helene said, oblivious of interruptions, “but Jake and I are simply hours and hours late—remember, darling, Lady Leiber’s tea—”

“Oh, yes,” Jake said. He drank the last drop of gin in his glass. “Mustn’t disappoint Lady Leiber.”

“By all means, don’t,” Malone said. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t have been more helpful about Uncle Arthur’s will.”

“Don’t forget, Mrs. Childers,” Helene cooed, at the door. “One o’clock, at Pierre’s.”

Jake resisted an impulse to bang the door shut. He grabbed Helene’s arm. “What’s the idea, or do you know?”

“Sssh! I want to hear what she has to say to Malone, and so do you.” Helene punched the elevator button. “That’s just so she’ll think we did go downstairs. In case she’s listening, and she will be, she’ll hear the elevator come up and go down.” She led the way down the hall. “Malone can’t afford a dictograph, so the office next to him is vacant, in case he wants Maggie to take down a conversation unobserved.” She opened the door.

“How did you know it was unlocked, Jake whispered, “and how did you know you could hear—”

“Because,” she whispered back, “I caught the tag end of your conversation with Malone. Just what is it I’ve got to be kept out of? Whatever it is, I’m in it already. And,” she added sternly, “I think you were very, very rude to poor Mrs. Childers.”