“The police aren’t in this,” Sheffold said.
“They will be!” Chick crunched out his half-smoked cigarette. “I got a few pipelines in this town. I happen to know the Daily Star is going to break the story in the morning.”
Sheffold’s eyes were alert. “What story?”
“On Bannerman. He’s been snatched,” Chick said. “The Star says they’re asking seventy-five grand. That’s big-time stuff, mister. I’m just a little guy.”
“You’re a dime-a-dozen grifter,” Sheffold said.
The meaning of Julian’s ledgers was plain now; the club would fold under a seventy-five thousand dollar rap. Maybe there were other jobs for bouncers, but what was left for Julian? The waiting was over, though; it would break fast now. Like a once-solid structure collapsing. Outside in the cinder-gray light of the false dawn, the Street waited to tally one more broken dream...
The ringing of his phone pulled Sheffold awake. It was nearly two p.m. He sat up and fought the pull of sleep until his head began to clear. He hadn’t been able to reach Julian last night. Stumbling a little, for he slept with the nearstupor of a big man, he crossed to the phone.
“Sheffold?” It was a woman’s voice, familiar enough but not for this early. “I want to speak to Pete Sheffold.”
“Speaking,” he mumbled.
“This is Rhoda Richards, Sheffold. Have you seen a paper today? Harley is being held for ransom!”
“I know,” Sheffold said. “Seventy-five thousand. Julian can’t pay it.”
There was an edge of panic in Rhoda’s voice. “Sheffold, listen to me! Pantera phoned my husband this morning and made a lot of insinuations. He knows Harley can’t pay the ransom and him too. You’ve got to do something!”
“Why me?” Sheffold asked. “I can’t help you. I told you last night.”
“Sheffold, please!” She sounded as if she’d been crying. “You’ve got to talk to my husband. Pantera doesn’t know anything about Harley and me. Except last night. You’ve got to tell Malcolm it was you who knew about the cottage. You’ve got to say I just drove you up there.” Her voice went on, shrill and uncontrolled in Sheffold’s ear.
“All right,” Sheffold cut in wearily. “Put him on. I’ll lie for you. Once, no more.”
“We’ll come over,” she said eagerly. “Malcolm will believe you if he sees you.”
“I’ll be at Julian’s in two hours,” he said and hung up. He felt very tired.
Chapter Four
Blackmail Boulevard
Julian was studying his daily horoscope when Sheffold walked in. Automatically he slipped off the horn-rimmed glasses, saw who it was, and put them on again. He tried for a smile and couldn’t quite make it.
“How long have you known?” Sheffold’s voice held a faint reproach. “You should have told me. Maybe I could have done something.”
Julian made a wide, hopeless gesture. “What could you have done, Pete?”
“Bannerman has a hideaway up Franklin Canyon. They were either holding him up there, or they had a man staked out. Why, I don’t know. You didn’t tell what the score was, so I blundered in.”
“What... what happened?” Julian’s swarthy face had a washed-out appearance.
“They went out the back door, I guess. Down the side of the hill. If I’d known what it was about, I might have broken it up. Maybe it isn’t too late.”
“Yes. Yes, it is too late. They want the money tonight. If I call in the police they’ll kill him. They’re sore now because the papers got it — I don’t know how it all got out.” He took the glasses off again and passed a hand over his eyes. “I can’t take that chance, Pete. If anything happened to Harley because I... no, I’ll pay them off.”
Sheffold’s face showed blank but his eyes were soft with pity. “Any idea who engineered it?”
“No. But they’re well organized, Pete. They held him a week before even communicating with me. They’re tough and dangerous and sure of themselves. It’s a mob, I’m sure.”
“Not Pantera’s,” Sheffold said slowly. “At least I don’t think so. He showed up at the cottage last night, says he followed me. He claims Bannerman owed him a lot of money.”
Julian stared at Sheffold.
“Let me take a crack at them. I can make the pay-off and—”
“No, Pete, I’ve got to do it their way. I told the police the same thing. Somebody will phone me tonight with final instructions.” His hand fell on the horoscope. “It’s not an auspicious day, Pete. Don’t make it worse.”
“Even if it ruins you?”
Julian made the same wide gesture. “Harley is my partner. And my friend. What can I do — till I know he’s safe?”
“Nothing,” Pete Sheffold said, and his voice was gentle. “I’ll be careful.”
Julian smiled faintly. “Thanks, Pete. I knew you’d understand.”
Sheffold went downstairs and through the kitchen to the parking lot. Jerry Sims was already there, sitting on a box, reading an afternoon extra. When he saw Sheffold he grinned and started unbuttoning the smock. Sheffold waited till the smock was off his shoulders and then he caught the front of it in an iron grip, pulling it tight so that it bound Jerry’s arms like a straight-jacket. Without effort he lifted the youth up on his toes and backed him into the passageway leading to the kitchen.
“Cut it out!” Jerry tried to squirm. “Quit the clowning, Pete! What’s the big idea?”
“Fifty bucks,” Sheffold’s tone was almost thoughtful. “Krell only offered me five.”
Jerry’s eyes shifted away from Sheffold’s gaze. “Aw, that was just a gag.”
“It was Krell who broke the story. He had all the details right. There was only one person who knew all that — Julian — and he wouldn’t tell even me. How did a weasel like you get a hold of it?”
“Pete, I tell you I didn’t!” Jerry’s voice was soothing, persuasive. “You got it all wrong. I don’t know anything about it.”
Sheffold said, “I’m not expected to think around here. I’m just the guy with the muscle. I get paid to crack skulls and throw drunks out into the gutter. Is that the way it’s got to be, Jerry?”
Jerry’s eyes were terror-stricken. “No — no! Pete, I’m your friend. You know me, Pete — we’re buddies! You wouldn’t hurt me. I’ll give you half.”
“Talk the gorilla out of it,” Sheffold said bleakly. His hand twisted the front of the smock, pulling it tight as rope across Jerry’s chest. “Go on, Jerry. Reason with me.”
Jerry’s breath came in agonized gusts. “Stop, Pete, I’ll tell you.”
Sheffold untwisted his hand slightly.
“The phone.” Jerry pointed frantically at the outdoor telephone set in a box on the wall. “I listened in. You know Julian — he’s always worrying that somebody will steal his club away. He’s got all the house phones fixed so he can listen in. But it works both ways. That’s how I get all my inside tips.”
“You heard the kidnappers call him?”
Jerry nodded violently. “Sure. I didn’t hear it all. Just enough to piece it together. And that’s the truth, Pete, honest. Let me go.”
“Not yet,” Sheffold said. “They’re going to call again tonight. They’ll tell Julian where to take the money. You’re going to listen in on that, Jerry. Then you’re coming to me. Just me, understand. Not Lee Krell, or anybody else. Have you got that?”
“Sure, Pete, sure. You can depend on me. You know that.”
Sheffold let go of the smock. His eyes were hard and bitter. “Play the angles on this, Jerry, and you’re finished.”
Jerry shuddered. “Yeah, Pete. I understand.”