“They all had motive,” Cellini continued, ignoring him. “Mack here, might have wanted to cut a slice of the blackmail for himself that I’ll tell you about later. However, his alibi looks good. I’m pretty sure he was at a barber shop shortly after eleven this morning while Winnie Crawford was being killed.”
“Thanks, pal.” The bookie said it not sarcastically but threateningly. Lansing and the attorney were cautiously silent.
“Mr. Garrett’s alibi,” said Haenigson, “is equally good for the Crawford killing. It so happens he was in his office phoning me at just about that time.”
“I know,” nodded Cellini. “I happened to talk to him, too, around that time. That leaves Lansing.”
The Homicide man’s voice fairly purred. “He was at a board meeting, at the bank.”
Cellini frowned. It was the kind of alibi that could be easily checked and Lansing wouldn’t have tried it had it not been true. But still, one of the three alibis had to be a phoney.
Haenigson smiled benignly. “Let there be more revelations, Smith.”
“Sure. Some I know, some is guesswork — but it’s the only possible explanation. In the first place, Howard Garrett is the chief stockholder in this investment outfit and he and Lansing have been milking the company, juggling the books, for some time now.”
Haenigson made a face. “You’re a back number, Smith. And I didn’t have to use torture methods to find it out.”
“And you didn’t have to stand in front of a sub-machine gun. But here’s something else. Some time ago there had to be a murder connected with this place — a murder committed by Manny Simms.”
This time the Homicide man’s voice was serious. “Lansing and Forrester,” he murmured. “That’s what this place used to be called a couple of years ago. Forrester just disappeared and I remember we had Simms on the carpet for it but we couldn’t prove anything.”
“Perfect,” said Cellini. “Lansing had his partner killed by Simms when his partner found out that he and Garrett were juggling the books.”
“Preposterous!” snorted Mr. Lansing.
“Shut up!” countered Garrett.
“But,” Cellini went on, “Lansing also knew that once Simms did such a job for him he’d be blackmailed the rest of his life so, at the same time, he got proof that Simms had murdered his partner. Whether it’s in the form of an actual snapshot of the killing, a written confession, or something else, we’ll know later because that’s one of the things Jimmy Legg stole from here. Understand?”
“I’m still listening, Smith.”
“Then Winnie Crawford got a job here through Mack and soon she was playing office wife to Lansing. Being in a privileged position, she discovered that Lansing and Garrett were taking their gullible investors to the cleaners. So she simply left Lansing’s couch, decided that all men were beasts, and blackmailed Lansing into supporting her in style.”
“My relationship with Miss Crawford was purely personal,” Lansing protested.
“I’ll bet,” remarked the detective-sergeant dryly.
“Enter now Jimmy Legg,” continued Cellini. “He had been the first rung on Winnie’s ladder to death. When he saw Winnie in clover without a panting male around, he was able to figure out the blackmail angle and decided to cut in.”
Again Lansing protested. “This whole thing is based on the assumption that Mr. Garrett and I have misappropriated company funds.”
“Grow up,” said Howard Garrett wearily. “By tomorrow a dozen accountants will be going over the books with a fine comb and you know what they’ll find. But unless you keep talking we’ll only take a larceny rap and not murder.”
Ira Haenigson rubbed his hands together. “And that,” he announced, “is what I call making progress.”
Cellini picked it up again. “So Legg burgled this place. He knew that blackmail material wouldn’t be in the regular box so he looked around and found a small safe behind that picture.”
“How did you know there’s a wall safe behind there?”
“Sheer deduction,” said Cellini blandly. “Anyway, Legg cracked it and found the real books — the ones showing what Lansing and Garrett have stolen. So when Legg was picked up by the police he told Garrett that if he and Lansing wanted to stay out of jail they’d better mother him. That’s why Garrett became mouthpiece for a small-timer like Jimmy Legg.”
“You’re on the right track, Smith — for a change.”
“Then Manny Simms became panicky because he knew Legg had also gotten the proof of his having murdered Lansing’s partner. So he pulled that trick of forcing the judge to release Legg because taking such a rap is better than going up for murder. Simms had to get Legg away from the police where he could be killed at leisure and the stolen stuff recovered.”
The Homicide man interrupted: “Where is that stolen stuff?”
“I’ll tell you later. It’s obvious why Legg was killed. In the meantime, Winnie had hired me, trying to find out what it was all about and when Manny Simms saw me hanging around Legg’s house he thought I had recovered the loot and tried to chop me down.”
“And why,” asked Haenigson, “was Miss Crawford killed?”
“The murderer knew that Legg intended hiding out at Winnie’s house and got the idea he might also have hidden the loot up there. So one of these three men here went up to Winnie’s house to search and when she showed fight — simply killed her.”
“Very beautiful,” said Ira Haenigson, “but for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You still haven’t named the killer.”
Cellini Smith nodded and glumly studied the tips of his shoes. One of the three alibis for 11:05 that morning had to be wrong. Lansing was at a board meeting — with many witnesses. Mack was at the barber shop — also with witnesses. The lawyer was in his office — and there could be no question of that because the sawmill voice of his secretary could not be mistaken.
Cellini looked up to find Ira Haenigson standing over him. “It’s my turn, Smith. I’ve warned you before that I’ll break you and this is my chance. I found your prints all over Jimmy Legg’s apartment and I’m pulling you in.”
The detective-sergeant meant it. There was no doubt of that in Cellini’s mind.
Cellini stood up. “I want to make a call first.”
“Don’t try any Indian rope tricks, Smith.”
“Since you’re arresting me, I want to let my lawyer know.” He went out to the front office, a cop trailing, and dialed his number at one of the desk phones. The girl who answered informed him that the lawyer was at home.
“Give me his home number,” said Cellini. “I’ll ring him.”
The girl replied: “Would you want me to call him and connect you two? It would be no trouble.”
Cellini gripped the phone hard. “How can you do that?”
The girl laughed. “Oh, that’s just an across-the-board call. You can connect two outside calls on most any P-B-X board. It’s—”
“I love you,” said Cellini, “and I want you to marry me.” He returned to Lansing’s office, a happy grin dominating his face. He walked up to Howard Garrett and said bluntly: “You’re going up for murder and not larceny after all.”
“Indeed?”
“Indeed. When you came out of the courtroom with Jimmy Legg you followed him to the drugstore and listened while he called me and Winnie Crawford. You heard him say he was going to the Hamilton Apartments through the side alley. Legg probably made sure nobody was following him to the Hamilton but you were already waiting there for him.”
The lawyer didn’t turn a hair. “And I suppose you’ll deny talking to me and my secretary this morning just about when Miss Crawford was murdered.”