What's Better Than Money (25 page)

Keary leaned forward to peer at the gun, then he grunted and leaned back again.

“While I was searching for the gun, I found a box of letters. One of the letters was from a woman named Clare Sims. . .”

“Yeah, I know about that. I found the letter too and I read it.”

I stiffened, staring at him.

“If you found the letter, why didn’t you go after Wilbur?”

“Keep going with your statement, Mr. Halliday. When you read the letter, what did you do?”

“I went to San Francisco and I found Wilbur. I sent him a note, giving him Rima’s address and I also sent him thirty dollars for the fare down here. I checked. He left San Francisco on the day she died. He came down here and killed her.”

Keary reached out a thick finger and stopped the recorder. Then he opened a drawer in his desk and took out a bulky folder. He opened it and pawed through its contents. He found a sheet of paper and an envelope which he pushed over to me.

“This the note you wrote him?”

My heart skipped a beat as I recognised my printing. I looked up, staring at Keary.

“Yes. How did you get hold of it?”

“It was found at the Anderson hotel, San Francisco,” Keary said. “Wilbur never got it.”

I felt a sudden rush of blood to my face.

“He never got it? Of course he did! And he acted on it! What are you saying?”

“He never got it,” Keary said. “This letter arrived on the morning of the 17th. Wilbur was arrested while returning to his hotel on the night of the 16th. He was arrested for carrying drugs, and he went back to complete his sentence. He is in jail right now.” He picked up his pencil and began to tap on the desk with it again. “When I found the letter from Clare Sims, warning the Marshall woman that Wilbur was after her, I checked with Frisco. They told me Wilbur had been arrested. The next morning the hotel handed your letter to the police. They sent it down to us. We didn’t bother further with it as Wilbur not only couldn’t have killed her, but he never got the letter.”

I sat there, staring at him, unable to believe him.

“Then if he didn’t kill her, who did?” I said hoarsely.

Keary looked bored.

“You’re hard to convince, aren’t you? I told you in the first place who killed her – Jinx Mandon. I told you we had enough on him to put him in the gas chamber, and that’s where he’s going. He was cheating with Rima Marshall. He met this singer, Pauline Terry, who was down at Santa Barba, and he fell for her. Rima found out and threatened to give him away to the police unless he gave up the girl. He was ready to go when your telephone call came through. That gave him his excuse to leave her, but she had other ideas. She went for him with a knife. There was a struggle. He went berserk and killed her. That’s his story. We have the knife. We have his blood-stained clothing and we’ve got his confession.”

I continued to stare at him, too shocked to say anything. I had delivered myself into his hands for nothing!

There was a long pause while Keary continued to tap on the desk, then he said, “Looks as if you’ve talked yourself into a jam, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. I was certain Wilbur killed her and it was my responsibility. I couldn’t let Mandon suffer.”

Keary pressed down the rewind button on the tape recorder.

“Yeah? Why should you have worried about a rat like that?”

He took the tape off the machine and laid it on the desk.

“That happens to be the way I feel about a situation like this,” I said quietly.

“Well, the chances are you’ll beat a first degree murder rap,” Keary said, “but they’ll hang a fifteen year stretch on you. What’s your wife think about it? Did she think it was a good idea to come down here and talk yourself into a fifteen year stretch?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“It’s going to be quite a jolt for her when she finds out, isn’t it?”

I moved impatiently. His sadistic smirk angered me.

“I can’t see how that concerns you.”

He leaned forward and picked up the gun, examined it, then put it down again.

“What’s going to happen to the bridge when you get locked up?”

“They’ll find someone.” I was feeling cold and numb. “There’s always someone else to take over another man’s job.”

“Yeah.” Keary shifted his bulk in his chair. “Another guy takes over my job tonight. By the time I’m half way home, all the bright boys here will have forgotten I ever existed. What’s your wife going to do without you?”

“What do you care?” I said. “I did what I did and I expect to pay for it. Let’s get on with it.”

He closed the file that lay before him and put it back in a drawer. Then he looked at his wrist watch. He got to his feet.

“Stick around for five minutes, Mr. Halliday.” He picked up the gun and the reel of tape and pushing past me, he crossed to the door and went out, closing the door after him.

I sat there waiting.

Fifteen years!

I thought of Sarita. I blamed myself now for not telling her the truth. It was the bleakest, longest half hour I have ever sat through.

The hands of the wall clock showed half past five when the door pushed open and Keary came in. He was smoking a cigar, and he was grinning.

He closed the door, moved around me to his desk chair and sat down.

“Have you been sweating it out, Mr. Halliday?” he said. “Imagining yourself behind bars, huh?”

I didn’t say anything.

“I’ve been saying goodbye to the boys,” Keary went on. “At five o’clock I turned in my badge. I am now officially retired. Your case is to be handed over to Detective Sergeant Karnow: the biggest sonofabitch on the force.” He took the reel of tape from his pocket. “When he hears this, he’ll jump for joy.” The small hard eyes searched my face. “But you and me could fix it that he doesn’t hear it.”

I stiffened, staring at him.

“What does that mean?”

The leering grin widened.

“We could do a deal, Mr. Halliday. After all what’s better than money? I could sell you this tape if you felt like buying it. You’d be off the hook then. You could go back to your wife and your bridge and you wouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

What’s better than money?

He had used the exact words that Rima had once used. So it was going to begin all over again. I felt a sudden urge to lean across the desk and slam my fist into his leering face, but I didn’t. Instead, I said, “How much?”

The grin widened.

“She was taking you for thirty thousand bucks, wasn’t she? Well, I’ll settle for twenty.”

I stared steadily at him. “And how much after that?”

“I’ll settle for twenty thousand. For that you get the gun and the tape. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

“Fair enough until you have spent the twenty thousand,” I said, “then you’ll remember me and come around with a hard luck story: they always do.”

“That’s your risk, pal, but you have a choice. You can always serve your sentence.”

I thought for a moment, then I shrugged my shoulders.

“Okay, it’s a deal.”

“Now that’s what I call being smart,” Keary said. “I want the money in cash. When I get it you get the gun and the tape. How long will it take you to raise the money?”

“The day after tomorrow. I’ll have to sell bonds. If you come to my office on Thursday morning, I’ll have the money for you.”

He shook his head and winked at me.

“Not at your office, pal. I’ll call you on Thursday morning and I’ll tell you where we’ll meet.”

“All right.”

I got to my feet and without looking at him, I went out of the office. I had just time to catch the six o’clock train back to Holland City. I sat staring out of the window, my mind busy. There had been no way out of Rima’s proposition because she had had nothing to lose. She had been so desperate for money that she would have gone to prison with me if I hadn’t paid her, but this blackmail proposition from Keary was very different. He had everything to lose. I would have to be careful, but I had confidence that I could out-smart him. One thing was certain: I wasn’t going to pay him a cent. I would rather take what was coming to me than be blackmailed for life by this fat, crooked cop.

On Thursday morning, I told Clara I was expecting a call from Detective Sergeant Keary.

“I don’t want you to put him through to me,” I said. “Tell him I’m out, and you don’t know when I’ll be back. Tell him to leave a message with you.”

A little after eleven o’clock, Clara came in to tell me Keary had telephoned.

“He said he would meet you at one o’clock at the Tavener’s Arms.”

The Tavener’s Arms was a roadhouse a few miles outside Holland City. A few minutes to one o’clock, I drove out there. Carrying a bulky briefcase with me, I went into the bar.

Keary was sitting in a corner, a double Scotch and soda on the table. There were only two other people in the bar and they sat away from Keary.

As I crossed over to him, I saw his eyes on the briefcase.

“Hello, pal,” he said. “Sit down. What’s your poison?”

“Nothing,” I said as I sat down on the bench seat beside him. I put the briefcase between us.

“I see you’ve got the money.”

“I haven’t,” I said.

The grin went off his face and his eyes suddenly became as hard as marble.

“What do you mean – you haven’t?” he snarled. “Do you want to go to jail, you punk?”

“The bonds were only sold this morning,” I said. “I didn’t have time to pick up the money. If you’ll come with me now, I’ll get it. You can see the money counted, and then you can have it.”

His face turned a dark purple.

“What the hell is this? Are you trying to pull a fast one?” he snarled, leaning forward to glare at me. “You try anything smart with me, and you’ll be behind bars so goddam fast you won’t even have time to tell your wife where you’ve gone.”

“It’s a big job to count twenty thousand dollars, sergeant,” I said mildly. “I thought you’d want a professional to do it for you, but if you want to do it yourself, then I’ll go to the bank now, get the money and bring it out here. I’m not trying to pull a fast one.”

He glared suspiciously at me. “I’m not so goddam stupid to go to the bank with you. Get the money in twenty dollar bills. I’ll count it. You get it now.”

“And what do I get in return for the money?” I said.

“You get the gun and the tape. That’s the deal.”

“You’ll give me the tape I made in your office when I confessed to being associated with the Pacific Studio guard’s shooting?”

“What is this? That’s what you’ll get.”

“How about a guarantee that you won’t blackmail me further?” I thought he was going to hit me.

“Don’t use that word to me, you punk!” he snarled. “You’re damn lucky to get away with this! I could have asked for thirty thousand. To get out of a fifteen year stretch, twenty thousand is cheap!”

“I’ll be back in an hour,” I said.

I picked up my briefcase and walked out. I got in my car and drove back to Holland City.

I returned to the office. Clara was at lunch. Ted Weston was just leaving.

“Are you coming with me, Mr. Halliday?” he asked as I came into the office. We usually lunched together.

“No. I’ve had mine,” I said. “I have something to do, then I’m going out again. You get off.”

When he had gone, I opened the briefcase and took from it a couple of empty cigar boxes and some rolled up newspaper. I threw the cigar boxes and the newspaper into the trash basket and put the briefcase away.

I lit a cigarette and was a little surprised to see how steady my hands were. I sat down.

I thought of Keary at the Tavener’s Arms, waiting.

Well, all right, I thought, you gave me a bad half hour before you began to blackmail me, now it’s my turn. I was pretty sure that I now had him where I wanted him. This would be like bluffing on a poker hand. Both of us had everything to lose, but I had got used to the idea of losing everything: he hadn’t.

At half past one, I left the office and drove back to the Tavener’s Arms.

He was still sitting there. His fleshy face was shiny with sweat and his small eyes were viciously mean. It gave me a feeling of satisfaction that he had been sweating it out as he had made me sweat it out in his tiny office.

When he saw me come in, empty handed, a red flush of rage flooded his face.

There were about a dozen people now in the bar, but none of them sitting near his table.

He watched me cross the bar, his eyes glittering and his thin mouth working.

I pulled a chair and sat down.

“Where’s the money?” he said in a low, rasping voice.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I said. “You’re not getting a cent from me. Now go ahead and arrest me.”

His face turned purple. His great red hands turned into fists.

“Okay, you bum! I’ll fix you for this!” he snarled. “I’ll damn well see you go away for fifteen years!”

“That’s the same sentence as you’ll get,” I said, staring fixedly at him. “They treat blackmail the same way as they treat an accessory to murder.”

“Yeah? Who are you kidding? It’s your word against mine, and I know who they’d believe!” He looked as if he wanted to throw a punch at me. “You don’t bluff me, you jerk! You either pay up or you’ll go to jail!”

“I wondered why, after thirty-five years’ service, you didn’t get higher than a detective sergeant,” I said. “Now, I know. You are just a stupid oaf without any brains. You’re the last man in the world who should try to blackmail anyone. I’ll tell you why. I made my statement to you before you retired. The desk sergeant will confirm I arrived at your office at four fifteen. I left your office before you did. What was I doing, talking to you, unless I was making a statement? Why didn’t you arrest me? Why didn’t you hand my statement over to your successor before you left? What are you doing here in Holland City, talking to me?” I waved my hand to the barman. “He’ll give evidence that we met here and talked. Sort that lot out, and then add this little item, and then sort it out again. You aren’t the only one now with a reel of tape. Remember the briefcase I had with me? Remember I put it between us while we talked? Remember what we said? In that case was a portable recorder. I have an excellent tape of our conversation. When I left you I took the recorder and the tape to my bank and I’ve asked them to take care of it. When that tape is played back in court, sergeant, you’ll join me in prison. You’ll lose your pension and you’ll get a fifteen year sentence. Where you went wrong in trying to blackmail me was that you had everything to lose. Rima Marshall hadn’t a thing to lose so she got away with it, but a successful blackmailer can’t afford to be vulnerable, and you are.”