He paused and Hammond said heavily: “It’s the dam’dest line I’ve ever heard!”
Free smiled coldly. “Bandor was in a bad spot, before they figured this deal. He was worried about his health, the police — and money. He was supposed to drop out of sight. I suppose Tim, here, would have told the Reynolds girl things had been fixed quietly. And then he would have started the bleeding process. A half million is nice to shoot at. There was a split with Bandor, for playing dead — and there was Kronnen to take care of. But plenty for all.”
Farley whistled softly. “And after Bandor played dead — someone really got him,” he breathed.
Free nodded, his eyes on Hammond’s. “Sure,” he said. “It was too good a chance. The girl was framed — why not finish Tony and make it right?”
Farley drew in a deep breath. “It was a natural,” he muttered.
Jim Lanner spoke softly. “They had their man killer all lined up. Who really got Bandor, Free?”
Free shrugged and looked puzzled. Then he smiled pleasantly and looked around at the faces in the room.
“It wasn’t Hammond,” he said. “He was too busy here in the office. Too busy figuring how he could get me bumped out.” Free narrowed his eyes on Poky Lake. “Was it you, Poky?”
Lake made a strange, chuckling sound. “Now I’ll tell one,” he said hoarsely.
Free looked at Kronnen. “I guess it was you, Eddie,” he said. He looked at the black sling of the left arm intently, and he nodded. “Sure it was,” he breathed. “You were in the house — you and Poky. But you could get close to Bandor without him being suspicious, with your gun all set in that left hand cast.”
Kronnen’s eyes went to Hammond’s. He said shakily:
“This is a hell of a joke — me with a broken arm—”
Free said to Farley. “You know most of them, at the tracks. Remember this one?”
Farley nodded. “I’d never forget that nose,” he replied. “Yeah — he used to pay off left handed. Think they called him Lefty Kronnen for a while there.”
Free’s eyes were on Hammond’s again. “Well — Kronnen finished Bandor. He got clear or he stuck inside. I walked in and surprised Poky puttering around. Poky let go at me, but he missed. I caught the gray of his trousers in the flash-beam. He came out and Lanner picked him up. I think maybe Kronnen made a quick duck after the kill, and then met Poky to learn if it had been right, at Mac’s place. I’ve got a hunch that Poky might have been tipped I was coming down — he seemed to be ready for me. Hammond tipped. He’s been getting careful of the old-timers around here, lately. Jen Carle, his secretary, she was slated to be fired pretty quick. Even a change of hair color couldn’t have saved her.”
Free smiled at Hammond. It was a hard, bitter smile.
“When I walked into Mac’s — Kronnen got a jolt. So did Poky. But Kronnen came up here and told Hammond what he already knew — that I was still alive. They decided to bluff on through. Well — here they all are.”
Farley nodded. “How’ll we work it?” he said slowly. “Take ’em to the precinct and knock hell out of them?”
Free nodded. “Poky’ll talk first. Have the doctor look at Kronnen’s left arm. He’ll find it’s never been broken, probably. I’ve got the gun the dumb beauty thought finished Bandor. It’ll show no bullets came out of the muzzle — they didn’t cover up on that because Hammond didn’t figure the gun would count. I can identify those trousers of Poky’s. We’ll dig in and find out how Mary Reynolds won so much at the track, from Kronnen. It may take a little time — but we’ve got them, Farley.”
Farley nodded and Jim Lanner said: “That’s what comes from Tim hiring good men to work for him.”
Hammond leaned across the desk and smiled with his lips. He looked at Free.
“How’d you do it, Free?” he asked. His voice was dull, almost lifeless.
Free smiled coldly. “I was willing to believe Mary Reynolds beautiful enough to be dumb enough to go to Bandor’s place,” he said. “I couldn’t quite see her using the gun — and I certainly couldn’t see Tony leaving one loose, in sight. And you were pretty tight with that gun she brought in, Tim — there a time when you would have let me see it. And those two shots were fired at me too quickly, Tim. I was expected. When I got a look at the gun the girl was supposed to have used — I sat here and did some thinking. And I figured out how you might have framed the girl, and how someone might have finished off Bandor. That was worth something to someone else — and Kronnen knows who. Did you get the sixty thousand from the girl, Tim?”
Hammond didn’t speak and Farley said in a hard, low tone:
“We’ll get all that, at the station, Free. Let’s start moving—”
Hammond took both hands out of sight, and shoved the desk forward and over. He swore hoarsely. Kronnen turned and his plaster cast made movement within the sling. The first bullet from his gun chipped plaster from the wall just to the right of Free’s moving head.
Farley’s gun crashed and Kronnen bowed his head, slumped forward. Dark metal spilled in a hunk from the plaster of the cast. Hammond raised his right hand and Free squeezed steel. Both guns crashed at once — there was a little stinging pain along the side of Free’s left hand. Hammond swung his body so that his face was to the wall behind his desk. He let his gun drop and leaned against the wall, arms at his sides. After a few seconds his body slipped downward.
Poky Lake didn’t move from his chair. His eyes held a dead, doped expression. Free looked at a scratch on his left hand, went over and looked down at Hammond. He heard Farley say:
“I guess Kronnen’s — through.”
Hammond looked up at Free as he leaned against the wall, a twisted smile on his lips.
“You had it right, Free,” he said weakly. “Only Kronnen finished Bandor — and tried for you, too. He got out of the room as you were falling — and Poky crossed in the light of — your flash. The Reynolds girl’s check for sixty grand — it’s in my... pocket—”
Free said: “The dumb brat—”
Hammond said hoarsely: “First — and last payment—”
He shivered and closed his eyes. Farley looked at Free and said:
“You hit?”
Free shook his head. “Just a scratch. Stick around — I’ll phone from the outer office.”
He went from the room and down the corridor. He was calling an ambulance when an elevator operator stuck his head in through the half-opened door space. He looked frightened.
“Anything wrong in here?” he asked. “I thought I heard shooting.”
Free said grimly. “You heard shooting, but there’s nothing wrong.”
When he’d finished calling the precinct station the operator’s head was still showing. His eyes were wide and he said stupidly:
“Is anyone dead — what’s it about?”
Free sighed heavily and reached for a cigarette. His fingers were shaking a little as he lighted the tip of it.
“Somebody’s dead,” he said tonelessly. “You can read all about it — tomorrow—”
The operator stared at Free. “Somebody’s dead—” he repeated thickly. “What’s it — about—”
Free went towards the corridor that led to the office. He said half to himself as he went:
“It’s about a gal with more looks than brains — and an agency boss who thought he could make her — a man killer.”