Lucky Stiff by Craig Rice (ebook pdf reader for pc TXT) đ
- Author: Craig Rice
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âThe young manâhis keyâ she paused. It was a good half minute before she said, âThereâs only two people he could have gotten it from. Jesse Conway, andâBig Joe.â
âThatâs nice,â Malone said. âAnd neither of them is going to tell us a thing. How many keys were there to this apartment?â
âOnly two,â she said. âBig Joe had a special lock made. A pair of them, just alike, one for the back door and one for the front. He hadâwell, there were people who didnât like him. He enjoyed feelingâsafe!â
She paused again, and there was an awkward silence. Finally Malone said with forced cheerfulness, âWell, maybe thatâs why he didnât get murdered long before.â
Anna Marie smiled at him, a faint smile. âThere were two keys made. Very special ones, with engraved initials. His on one, mine on the other. And a little design in chip diamonds.â
Malone decided immediately that if he was ever able to manage that little house in Winnetka or Wilmette for Anna Marie, heâd do something fancy in the way of door keys. Only he wouldnât use little chip diamonds.
âI gave my key to Jesse Conway,â Anna Marie said, âwhen I went toâjail.â
Malone knelt beside the body with a faint grimace of repulsion. âThereâs a chance he may still have it.â A moment later he added, âHe did.â
He handed the ornamental little key to Anna Marie and said, âThen the young man who dropped in to visit must have the key that belonged to Big Joe. I think itâs safe to assume Big Joe must have been carrying the key when he was killed. What happened to it after that?â
âThat question can wait until later,â Helene said firmly. âPersonally, if that piece of paper Anna Marie found is worth that searching job upstairs, Iâd like to know what it is.â
They looked expectantly at Anna Marie. She unfolded the paper, looked at it for nearly a minute, and frowned.
âIt doesnât make sense,â she said at last. She gave the paper to Malone. It was an ordinary piece of inexpensive notepaper. At the top was written, âDear Anna Marie.â Tha had been scratched out. A few lines below was, âDearest Anna Marie: If I werenât illââ That, too, had been scratched out, and still farther down the page, âAnna Marie, my darlingâ forgive me for what I mustââ That was all.
âBig Joeâs writing?â Malone asked.
Anna Marie nodded. âBut I donât understandââ
âIt looks like the first draft of a letter,â Malone said slowly. âEvidently a letter to you. Iâd say that probably he was interrupted before he could finish it, and stuck it away in the hiding place so that no one would see it before he had a chance to finish it.â He handed the letter back to her. âFor the last time, letâs get out of here. We can talk somewhere else.â
âYouâve got to call von Flanagan,â Helene reminded him again.
The little lawyer nodded and said, âYes, but not on this telephone. I donât want to ruin what may be a lovely set of fingerprints.â
Suddenly Jake said, âFurthermore, Malone, you arenât going to call him.â His eyes were flickering with excitement. âMaybe youâve all forgotten my profession before I became a respectable saloonkeeper.â
He turned to Anna Marie and put a friendly hand on her shoulder. âMy dear ghostâwhat you need now is a good press agent.â
âThere are some things some people know more about than some other people,â Jake said. âAnd one of the some things I know some more about than some people I could name is publicity.â
âYou mean, some publicity,â Helene said scornfully, swinging the convertible into Clark Street.
âNo,â Malone told her, âhe means, you can fool all of the people all of the time, and you can fool all of the people all of the time, but you canât fool all of the people all of the time.â
âJake knows what he means,â Helene said. âMalone, youâre drunk.â
âIâm not,â the little lawyer said indignantly, âbut itâs not a bad idea. Anna Marieââ
âLater,â Anna Marie said. âRight now Iâve got to talk to my press agent.â
âRight now,â Jake said, âyouâve got to talk to von Flanagan. Whereâs the nearest telephone booth?â
Helene answered by slamming on the brakes and skidding the convertible to a stop in front of a corner drugstore. âThere you are, smart guy. Now, does Anna Marie wear her rain cape, or does she change with me?â
âNeither,â Jake said. âThatâs what I mean by her needing a press agent. Right now, Anna Marie could stroll in there walking on her hands, with a rose in her teeth, and nobody would notice her.â
Anna Marie stepped out of the car, waved her eyelashes at Jake, and said, âMr. Justus, you underestimate me.â
âMy apologies,â Jake said. âI meant, nobody would recognize you. And my friends call me Jake. Letâs go make that phone call.â
It was a dinky little drugstore, four stools in front of the discolored marble soda fountain, flyspecked displays of bath salts, antiseptics, toothpastes; a few shelves of cheap liquors, a green-curtained doorway leading to the prescription department, and one phone booth. Nobody noticed Anna Marie. Jake bought a handful of phone slugs for her and a lemon coke for himself. From where he stood he could hear every word from the phone booth.
âCaptain von Flanagan, please.â Pause. âBut itâs very important. I must reach him right away. About a murder.â Pause. âThis is Anna Marie St. Clair calling.â Long pause. âFrom a phone booth.â Another long pause. âWhose murder? Mine, of course.â Very long pause. âHis home phone number? Thank you.â
Jake sipped his lemon coke and grinned, imagining the confusion at the other end of the line.
Anna Marie had a little trouble after that. Captain von Flanagan wasnât at home, he was at an anniversary party. Heâd left the anniversary party with one of his in-laws. He wasnât at the in-lawâs house, heâd gone to a night club in Cicero. No, he was at a friendâs apartment in Rogers Park, and there she got him on the phone.
âCaptain von Flanagan?â Anna Marieâs voice was smooth, mellow, and soft. âThis is Anna Marie St. Clair. Jesse Conway has been murdered, in my apartment. I thought Iâd better call you direct.â
Jake shoved away the lemon coke and wished with all his heart that he could hear what von Flanagan was saying.
âBut this is Anna Marie St. Clair. Donât you recognize my voice?â
That ought to get him, Jake reflected. Anna Marie did have a voice that no one could forget.
âItâs Jesse Conway. He telephoned the police just before he was killed and said he was being murdered. How do I know? He told me, just now. Captain, I think youâd better get right over there. Good-byââ The last word trailed off into an ethereal whisper.
Out in the car Jake said, âItâs a good thing von Flanaganâs psychology-conscious these days. Heâll be able to practice it on himself.â
âHow about tipping off the newspapers?â Helene asked, starting the car.
âNot yet. I know what I m doing. Just because you married a press agent doesnât mean you are one.â
âEvery woman is a born press agent,â Helene said. âBut youâre the boss. Where to?â
âThe Casino,â Jake said happily, âand leave everything to me. Anna Marie, can you still sing that songââMy Lonely Little Roomâ?â
âI could sing it in my sleep, she assured him.
The ensuing scene at the Casino was a memorable one. Jake, Helene, and Malone were at their usual table. The lights were dimmed for Milly Daleâs first number. She slipped out from between the curtains, smiling at the audience.
Then there was a scream, Heleneâs scream, above the applause. The orchestra automatically went on playing, but another voice took up the song.
When Iâm sitting in the gloom â
Of my lonely little room â
Milly Dale looked in the direction of the voice, then fainted. The audience didnât notice her. They were staring at the doorway to the left of the stage.
The instruments of the orchestra stopped one by one. The lovely voice began to grow softer, dying away into the faintest shadow of a sound. Then it was gone completely, and so, in the same instant, was the vision.
The Casino was deathly still for a minute. Jake jumped up from his chair, raced to the doorway and on into the hall that ran along backstage. Then everybody in the room began to talk at once, but nobody got up to leave. The headwaiter had the presence of mind to carry Milly Dale off the stage, but he took her to a couch in the ladiesâ lounge instead of her dressing room.
A moment later Jake reappeared. He was mopping his brow and he looked pale. There was another sudden hush.
Jake said loudly, âI assure you, thereâs no oneânothingâ backstage. It must have been an optical illusion. Something about the lights.â He paused. âI regret that Miss Dale will not be able to finish her appearance tonight. The floor show, however, will continue as scheduled.â
The orchestra began to play, a little shakily at first. The chorus came out on the stage. Its members didnât dance particularly well tonightâor any night, for that matterâbut no one paid much attention to them, anyway. The buzz of conversation all but drowned out the music. A few minutes later Jake, Helene, and Malone slipped out through the side door. Anna Marie was waiting for them in the car.
âYou even convinced me,â Malone told her. âAnd you looked beautiful.â
âTomorrow night,â Jake said, âthe Casino will be jammed.â
Helene sniffed. âI thought that press-agenting job wasnât purely altruistic. What do we haunt now?â
âHome,â Jake said. âFun is fun, but thereâs no point in overdoing it. Besides, thereâs a lot of things that need to be talked over.â
âAnd,â Malone said, âI need a drink.â
They took Anna Marie up the back elevator. The telephone was ringing when they reached the door. Jake answered it.
âSorry,â he said after a moment of listening, âno statement.â Another moment, and, âYes, Harry, I know weâre pals. But thereâs no statement I can make. I donât even know what I saw. Besides, I donât believe in ghosts myself.â
As he hung up the receiver he said contentedly, âThat was the Examiner.â The phone promptly rang again, and as he reached for it he said, âThat will be the Trib.â It was.
All the papers had called by the time Helene came out from the kitchenette with a tray of dishes and a golden brown omelet that sent out an aroma of bacon, onion, tomato, and green pepper. Malone began mixing drinks.
âEverything is going fine,â Helene said. âAs long as nobody gives the show away. We wonât, and Jesse Conway canât. Butââ
The telephone rang again.
Jake said into it, âHello, von Flanagan, what are you doing up at this hour of the night? Malone?â
The little lawyer shook his head furiously.
âSorry,â Jake said. âI donât know where you could find him. He left the Casino with us, butâhe wasnât feeling very well.â
The sound of von Flanaganâs voice could he heard all over the room, a profane roar. Jake said, âIâll be damned!â and âYou donât tell me!â and, âIâll try to locate him for you!
âWell, itâs pretty lateâsuppose we drop in tomorrow morning?â and finally, âYeah, thatâs right. Just psychology.â He hung up.
âI take it,â Helene said, serving the omelet, âthat von Flanagan has found the late Jesse Conway.â She glanced up, saw Jakeâs face, and said, âWhat?â
âVon
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