The Almost Perfect Murder by Hulbert Footner (ereader for comics txt) đ
- Author: Hulbert Footner
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ya that shakes me nerve. What would happen to the kid if I kicked out?â
âMaybe the fathers would keep him just the same,â suggested Madge.
âMaybe,â said Chico frowning, âbut I wouldnât want him to be a charity
pupil. He has his pocket-money with the rest of them, and belongs to
the swell clubs. Heâs on the basket-ball teamâthe junior teamâand he
plays football too. Heâs gonna be a regular husky when he gits his
growtâ. Biggerân me. Sometimes I go up to watch their games, but he
donât know Iâm there.â
âDonât you ever see him?â asked Madge in surprise.
âSure, I go up there sometimes,â said Chico uncomfortably, âbut itâs a
kind of a strain to hafta talk to the priests and all. Iâm afraid of
givinâ the snap away. So mostly I make out Iâm travellinâ. I took him
to the movies once or twict on a Satâday aft-noon, but hell! you never
know what yer gonna see in them movies. They puts ideas in a young
kidâs head.â
âAinât it the troot!â murmured Madge, entering fully into sympathy with
his story.
âI feel just like a fatâer to that kid,â said Chico with an attractive,
shamefaced laugh. âAinât it hell to be a fatâer! Allus worryinâ about
him, how to keep him from learninâ bad and all; allus thinkinâ heâs
gonna get one of these diseases that kids get.â
âLike infantile paralysis,â suggested Madge softly.
âOh, God! thatâs the worst,â said Chico. âFair puts me in a sweat just
to think of it. And they say thereâs an epidemic cominâ on.â
âI read in the papiss how there was a doctor guy gonna wipe out
infantile paralysis,â said Madge. âAt the Terwilliger Institoot.â
Chico made no answer.
âDid you read that?â she asked.
âNo. I didnât read it,â he said slowly. âBut I know that doctor guy;
Dr. Felix Portal.â
âSure, that was the name,â said Madge; âyou know him?â
There was another pause, then Chico said impulsively: âSay, if youân
meâs gonna be pals Iâll tell you this.â Apparently he looked around at
me here. âDo you tâink Bellaâs asleep?â he asked apprehensively.
âSure, sheâll sleep wherever you put her down,â said Madge.
âListen,â said Chico lowering his voiceâand you can imagine how I
stretched my ears for what was coming; âthere was a fella hired me to
take Dr. Portal for a ride.â
âWhat!â cried Madge.
âYeah, and I took him, too. Way to hell and gone up in Westchester
County. And I had me gun in me hand ready to smoke him, and I couldnât
do it.â
âWhy?â
âBecause he was talkinâ about this now, infantile paralysis, and how he
was gonna save all the kids from it, and I happened to tâink about my
Tony, and I couldnât do it. I put the rod in me pocket and I drove the
old man home. And I ainât never regretted it neither, though it cost
me a grand.â
âBut what fellow would want to bump him off?â asked Madge.
Chico turned wary again. âIâm not tellinâ that,â he said shortly.
âBut there was some trouble up there,â said Madge. âAnotâer doctor guy
was shot. I read it in the papiss. Donât reâclect his name. Was you
in that too?â
âAah, you wanta know too much fer yer own good,â said Chico, wary, but
perfectly good-tempered.
âI donât want to pry into yer secrets,â said Madge with an offended
air, âonây it seems funny why anybody would want to go after two doctor
guys who was onây workinâ to save the kids.â
âYeah, and it is funny too, if the troot was known.â
That was as far as she could get him. Mme. Storey let the talk drift
away to other matters. Before she could bring it back we were startled
by hearing a slight, peculiar tap on the door. Madge and I sprang up
in alarm.
ââSâall right,â said Chico soothingly. âThatâs the knock of a friend.â
Going to the door, he opened it an inch or two. Madge and I were out
of the range of vision of whoever stood outside. âWhatâs the matter?â
asked Chico. âMust be near four oâclock.â
âWell, you ainât in bed yet,â responded the voice of an angry woman.
âWho you got in here? Iâm gonna see!â
She pushed past Chico and I saw the handsome, buxom Italian girl who
had opened the door to me that afternoon. My heart sank like a stone.
The worst of it was, I was sitting up on the bed, staring directly at
her. It was too late then to lie down and make believe to be sleeping.
My only hope of escaping recognition lay in the fact that it had been
pretty dark in the stair hall that afternoon.
âTwo of âem!â she cried furiously. âTwo of âem! Hereâs a nice thing!
Bringinâ âem in here right next to me mutterâs room! You got no shame
at all!â
Chico was much more respectful towards this girl. I suppose she had
some sort of hold over him. âNow Ria, now Ria,â he said placatingly,
âyou get this wrong! I never seen these ladies before tonight.â
âThe more shame to you!â she cried, âbringinâ âem here! Huh! Ladies!
Donât make me laugh!â
âYou can see for yerself thereâs nothinâ wrong,â protested Chico. âWe
was just sittinâ talkinâ, like.â
âYeah, and you was tellinâ âem all you knew, eh? I could hear you
talkinâ through the wall!â
âI just brought âem in here to get âem out of the way of the police,â
said Chico.
âThatâs a likely story! Maybe theyâre police spies theirselves!â
It was only the random shot of a jealous woman, but it made my blood
run cold. She came closer to the bed, peering into our faces. âI
thought so!â she cried in shrill triumph. âThey are spies! Anyhow,
the red-headed one is,â pointing to me.
Our backs were against the wall then. âItâs a lie!â cried Mme. Storey.
âItâs a lie!â I echoed. âYouâre crazy!â muttered Chico.
âCrazy, am I?â sneered the Italian. âShe come to the door this
afternoon lookinâ for ya. Made out to be a book agent. âMr. Cardoneâs
name was give me,â says she so nice. Yah! Well, I didnât suspect
nothinâ, and I told her sheâd find you at Luigiâs speakeasy tonight.
She did find you there, didnât she? And now youâve told her everythinâ
you know!â
Who could ever have foreseen this? It was just a rotten piece of luck.
Chico backed away from the bed, his face turning pale and hard. His
hand went slowly to his hip, and reappeared grasping an ugly little
automatic. I closed my eyes, thinking our last moment had come.
âOh, spare her! spare her!â I moaned.
âBe quiet, Bella,â commanded my employer.
The Italian girl cried out too. âChico, no! no!â
He had become the hard and self-controlled little gunman again. âShut
your noise,â he growled out of the corner of his mouth. âIâm not gonna
croak themâŠ. Call your dad.â
The girl stuck her head out of the door and called tremulously: âPadre!
Padre!â
Chico and Mme. Storey measured their steely glances against each other.
âI thought you was on the square witâ me,â sneered Chico. âYou fooled
me nice, didnât ya? I gotta hand it to ya.â
âI shall be on the square with you,â she answered. âYouâll see it yet.â
âYeah? Youâre no Bleecker Street girl. I can see it in your eye.
Youâve got the look of one of the high-ups.â
A burly Italian shuffled into the room clad in slippers, pants and
shirt, with his suspenders hanging. He too had a gun in his hand. I
was sick with terror. âWhatâs the matter, kid?â he growled.
âRia says them two women are police spies,â said Chico. âMaybe they
are and maybe they ainât. I ainât takinâ no chances. Keep them here
while I make a getaway, thatâs all. Give me ten minutes and then let
âem go, see? Let âem go and be damned to âem!â
Chico thrust the photograph in his breast pocket and snatched up his
cap. He had had this cap during our flight over the roofs.
âWhereâs your overcoat?â asked Ria.
âLeft it at Luigiâs. Get it tomorrow, will ya?â Without another
glance in our direction, he made for the door.
The tears were rolling down Riaâs round cheeks. âOh, Chico mio,â she
mourned.
He paused only long enough to jerk up her chin with his forefinger and
print a kiss on her lips. There was something infinitely savage and
graceful in the gesture. He sped downstairs. Ria wept unrestrainedly.
Mme. Storeyâs face was like a mask. I was surprised to see her take
his escape so calmly, but I was not familiar with all the details of
the arrangements she had made in advance.
Chicoâs footsteps died away as he descended through the house. Then
suddenly far below we heard the sounds of a scuffle followed by a heavy
fall. After a moment a voice, not Chicoâs, cried exultantly: âI have
him!â A breath of relief escaped Mme. Storey.
The other Italianâs face turned black with rage. âBy God! theyâve got
him!â he cried. âBut Iâve got you!â And he raised the gun.
Once more Mme. Storey and I looked straight into the face of death.
She never flinched. Ria flung herself on her father. âNo! No!â she
cried. âThe police are downstairs. Theyâll send you to the chair for
it! These women are nothing to us!â
While they were still struggling there was a crash overhead. The
shutter under the skylight swung down, and a man dropped into the room,
landing on his feet like a cat. Another followed. Both were armed.
The first was George Stephens, the second, one of Inspector Rumseyâs
plain-clothes men. In a trice they had the Italian covered, and forced
him to drop his gun.
And so we were saved. In the powerful reaction that overcame me, all
my strength seemed to desert me for a moment. I dropped on the edge of
the bed. Mme. Storey said:
âGive me a cigarette, George.â
âWhereâs Chico?â asked Stephens.
âThey have him safe downstairs.â
He jerked his head towards the scowling Italian and his daughter.
âShall we take these two along?â
âNo,â said Mme. Storey, âthey are guilty of nothing except standing by
a friend.â
âBut he pulled a gun,â objected the plain-clothes man. âIâve got to
take him up for that.â
âIt was my gun,â said Mme. Storey quickly. âHe took it from me.â
The gun was returned to her. âCome on,â said Stephens; and we filed
out of the room. Mme. Storey was the last to go. She slipped the gun
to the Italian, whispering: âTake out a permit for it, and youâll have
nothing to fear.â He stared at her in dumb amazement. Such
magnanimity, I suppose, was absolutely unheard of in his world.
VIIChico was lodged in the Tombs. After a couple of hoursâ sleep Mme.
Storey and I were again hard at work on the case. Events followed fast
that morning. Acting upon a suggestion of Mme. Storeyâs, the police
were searching the sewer catch basins in the immediate vicinity of the
Institute and in one of them was found an automatic pistol of the
latest Rives and Jackson model, 38 calibre, from which one shot had
been fired, and also a slightly flattened
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