“What is it?” he said. “Dirt?”
Free shook his head. “Bullet rip,” he replied. “A guy named Bandor — Tony Bandor — was shot out, down in the Village. In a house down there. The house had green window boxes. Very pretty. I got a rumor that he was dead, and went in to see. Someone let go twice at me. I thought maybe it was you.”
Lake swore. “If you’re tryin’ to pin the Bandor kill on me—”
Free interrupted. “You came out of the house a few minutes after this guy tried to get me. I thought maybe there was some connection.”
Lake widened his eyes. “Me?” he breathed. “Like hell I did. I was in Jersey until I walked into Mac’s place.”
Farley grinned and shook his head. “Stick to the facts, Poky,” he advised. “The New York state line starts down along the Hudson water somewhere.”
Lake closed his eyes and looked bored. Free said:
“How about it, Jim?”
Lanner said: “Well — both of us saw him come out of that house with the green window boxes. That’s where I picked him up.”
Lake swore very hoarsely. “It’s a frame,” he breathed. “And it won’t take.”
Free shrugged. A door made a slam sound and there were footfalls. After a few seconds a voice said:
“Hammond?”
Free called: “Come on in, Mr. Kronnen.”
Lake’s eyes were expressionless. The footfalls grew louder and Kronnen came through the half-opened door, into the room. He saw Lake almost at once; his mouth opened and he yawned. After the yawn he looked around. Free said:
“This is Eddie Kronnen, boys. Kronnen — that’s Farley over there. Precinct detective. Lanner, there, is out of this office. You know Poky Lake, I believe.”
Kronnen said: “Yeah — sure. Hello, Poky.”
Lake swore again. “It’s a frame, Eddie,” he breathed. “They’re trying to pin Bandor’s kill on me.”
Kronnen raised his eyebrows a little, then looked at Free.
“Where’s Hammond?” he asked, and there was a peculiar tone in his voice.
Free tilted his head, resting the back of it against the wall. He half closed his eyes, looking at the ceiling, and spoke almost absently.
“He should be along any minute, unless he found Miss Reynolds difficult,” he said.
Poky Lake’s eyes narrowed a little. Kronnen stood near the desk, looking at Free and breathing quickly but evenly. His injured arm moved a little in the sling. Farley said:
“Who’s Miss Reynolds?”
Free closed his eyes. “Lovely lady,” he said slowly, casually. “She says she murdered Tony Bandor. Tim believes her.”
Farley blinked at Free. “She says she—”
He checked himself. Kronnen was facing Free, his right-hand fingers clenched at his side. His big body was tense, and his lips bared his teeth.
Lanner said: “And you don’t believe her, Free?”
Free opened his eyes and smiled at Lanner. “Hell, no,” he replied. “Her story was lousy. It had more holes in it than Tony had in him.”
Kronnen was breathing more slowly now; his right-hand fingers unclenched. The outer door made clicking sound, then closed softly. There were footfalls that grew louder in the corridor. Tim Hammond came into his office.
He halted just past the door, looked from one face to another. He had a cigarette in his left hand, and after seconds he went around behind his desk and squashed it in an ash tray. Free said:
“Hello, Tim. Did she hand over the sixty thousand?”
Hammond pulled back his desk chair very carefully, put his hat on the surface of the desk and seated himself. He looked from one face to another. His skin was pale, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly at intervals. After a little while he leaned forward and placed elbows on the desk, closed his hands and held fists at his ears.
“What’s all this, Free?” he asked very softly.
Free smiled at him. “Gathering of the clan,” he said. He slipped his right hand in the right pocket of his gray coat and pulled the pocket material up so it rested on his right leg just above the knee. “Did the Reynolds girl hand over the sixty thousand?”
Hammond’s face twisted. “I’m running this agency, Free,” he said in a hard voice. “You’ve been getting yourself too well known around town, even if you’ve only been back a short time. I don’t like that — what do I owe you?”
Don Free continued to smile. “Let’s see — counting my expenses on the Philly trip and two weeks pay ahead — say about five hundred, Tim.”
Hammond nodded slowly. He reached down at his left and opened a drawer. Keys made jangling sound in his fingers. He closed the drawer, opened another. He tossed bills on the surface of the desk, five of them. Free stood up, walked over and picked them up. Hammond was looking down at the keys. He said suddenly:
“Good—!”
Free backed away from the desk, smiling coldly. When Hammond’s eyes lifted and met his, Free nodded.
“Sure — the key to the gun drawer isn’t there, Tim,” he said. “I came back, used it on the drawer, and took the gun out. I looked it over. And I didn’t put it back in again.”
Hammond’s eyes got very small. Free said: “It was like this, Farley — this Reynolds girl brought along the gun she said she’d killed Tony Bandor with, and Tim had it locked up.”
Farley nodded. “Well?” he said questioningly.
Free stopped smiling. “She didn’t kill Bandor with it or with any other gun,” he said slowly.
Poky Lake said hoarsely: “It’s some kind of a frame, Eddie.”
Eddie Kronnen kept his eyes on Free, but Free was watching Hammond. He spoke quietly.
“Lanner, you watch Lake. I’m leaving Kronnen to you, Farley. I’ll take care of my ex-boss, Mr. Hammond.”
Hammond said very slowly but in a strained voice:
“Get the hell out of my office, Free — you’re fired! Get moving right away!”
Free shook his head. “I came back here just in time to sit in on the tail end of a racket, boys,” he said steadily. “I’ve been getting too virtuous for Tim — or he’s been getting too crooked for me, one way or the other. Lake’s right, except for the tense he used. It was a frame — a two way frame. I was to be made permanently quiet — that chance just came along. It looked better than sending me out of town all the time. The Reynolds girl was to be nicked — sixty thousand now and then some more every once in a while—”
Hammond spoke very softly and huskily. “He’s talking rot — he knew I was going to fire him—”
Free chuckled. “Hammond’s too dumb to run an agency,” he said. “He’ll be a good looking trusty in stir. He’ll have some company Farley. Too bad Tony Bandor can’t be along. But there was a slip-up.”
Tim Hammond was swaying his body a little, from side to side, very slowly. His hands rested on the desk surface, and the fingers moved nervously. The others were all very still. Free stood with his back near the wall opposite the desk.
“It was Hammond’s idea,” he said slowly. “He might have got improvements on it from Bandor. Or Kronnen. Or even Poky Lake. Anyway — this Reynolds kid had come into some money and she liked to play the horses. Maybe they fixed it so that she got the right tips and won, or maybe she just was lucky, and that gave them the idea. Kronnen said he couldn’t pay up, but he had a backer. He brought in Bandor. Bandor was nice, and the Reynolds girl was beautiful and dumb.
“She went down to the Village, saw the green window boxes, and went inside. Bandor had a gun planted. He put on his act. He’d fixed it so she’d seen the gun. And she’d seen movies. So she grabbed the gun and let him have it. He went down. That was all fine and dandy — the way things were supposed to go. All the gun did was make noise, and Bandor didn’t even get a powder burn. The Reynolds girl took a quick look and was sure he was dead. She got out of the house, calmed down a little, remembered what she’d read in the tabs about Burkley — and went to him. That was a break for the House of Hammond. Burkley and Tim, here — they get on together. Miss Reynolds was sent over here. Not that it would have made any difference — Tim would have got after her anyway.”