I was still racking my brain over what the jam could be when the same skinny guy with the same pasty face walked into the dining room and said: “A taxi guy here for you.”
I managed to get on my feet.
“Thanks, pal. Mind telling me whose scatter this is?”
The pasty face looked puzzled.
“Damned if I know. I’m a stranger here myself.”
I made it out of the place, not even trying to find my hat. The cab driver wanted to give me some help, but I shoved him away. It’s the Corbett pride.
I noted that the apartment number was 4B, and when we got downstairs I saw that it was in a six-story apartment house on the corner of Elmhurst and Arlington Road. I meant to ask the driver whose apartment it was, but as soon as the cab started rolling I lost all interest in questions. I told the driver to drive slower or he’d have cause to regret it.
It was after midnight when he dumped me out at the side door of the Annex. When I paid him I discovered I still had most of my roll, which was some consolation, for I had an idea the gal Millie wasn’t above a little larceny. I wondered vaguely where she’d got to as I opened the door with my key. I walked through the dimly lighted, deserted corridor to the wing housing Keever’s offices, and Shelton let me in there.
The kid looked worried.
“I’m sure glad you’ve come, Ben. It’s been awful.”
I crossed toward Keever’s office. Curtis T. Durbin was seated glumly outside. He usually had a sneer for me, but this time I thought I detected an actual expression of relief as I showed up.
“Go right in,” said Shelton. “We’ll wait outside.”
My first impression when I saw Keever slumped over his desk was that he had gone to sleep. Then he straightened at the sound of my footsteps, and I saw that the man had been crying. He tried to get control over himself and even grin, and it was a sight I thought I’d never see.
The Keever I’d known had always been possessed of perfect poise, armed with an almost arrogant nonchalance. It’s an act that any good lawyer has to put on. A lawyer runs into so many surprises and has so many rugs pulled out from under him that he becomes an expert at landing on his feet and coming up with a smile.
Keever was especially adapted to this, for he had a postage-stamp face, commanding, with a fine-line mustache that impressed even judges. But now he was all in pieces. His face was flushed, and his eyes were bloodshot. I hate to think of any man crying, even Keever.
“It’s all over, Ben,” he said. “I’m ruined.”
It was enough to sober me, and it did. I sat down across the desk from him and said: “Let’s have it, boss. It can’t be that bad.”
“But it is, Ben. It is. That rat Patterson has got me where he wants me, and he knows it. After all these years of faithful public service I’m about to be disgraced! I’ll be disbarred, Ben, perhaps even sent to prison!”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve been a stupid fool! Believe me, I wasn’t dishonest — I was just dumber than hell!” Tears welled in his eyes again.
“Listen, boss, we’re getting no place fast.”
“You’ve heard of Phil Sutton?”
I caught my breath. “Go on.”
“Then you know what a crook he is. Nobody has any less use for him than I have, but when he organized the Acme Auto Insurance Company there was nothing I could do because his lawyers incorporated the concern properly and complied with the law in every detail. That was six months ago. Last week the state insurance department asked for a ruling on whether they should take over the concern. I went into the matter thoroughly.
“Perhaps you know that every automobile casualty insurance company must file an estimate of the amount of liability of every claim filed against its assured. Sufficient collateral in government bonds must be held in escrow to cover twice the amount of all the estimated claims.
“The insurance department had cheeked the Acme claims and turned in a report that they were underestimated. They demanded that Acme put up collateral commensurate with their own estimate of the claims. Acme refused. The insurance department asked for a ruling on whether it should close up Acme and liquidate the assets.
“Last week, the tenth of the month, I gave a ruling. After a careful examination of the insurance law of this state I saw that a loophole protected Acme. Their own estimate of the liability of outstanding claims was final unless suit had been filed against them. I reported this to the insurance department and recommended reform of the state law.
“Governor Patterson himself stormed in and said I was letting Phil Sutton get away with murder. He said Sutton ought to be run out of the state. I agreed with him, but said it was going to be done legally if I were a party to it. Patterson accused me of fronting for Sutton, and I lost my temper and ordered him out.
“Tonight I got a phone call from Lew Brown, an old law school pal of mine in the D.A.’s office. He said a warrant had been issued for Phil Sutton. The charge was bribery of a state official. The official was me. Brown said that Gordon Kress, the D.A., had got the warrant after Governor Patterson had produced a photographic copy of a check for ten thousand dollars.
“The check had been issued by Sam Price, one of Phil Sutton’s lawyers. It was Price who organized Acme Insurance. He’s still their chief counsel. The check was made payable to cash. There was no endorsement. The photostatic copy was also accompanied by an affidavit signed by one Lester Toland, a teller at the Second National. Toland stated that a man he did not know had presented the check for payment and had refused to endorse it. He phoned Price, and Price said it was O.K., he could cash it. So he cashed it. Later he learned the identity of the man to whom he had paid the ten thousand.”
“Don’t tell me,” I said. “It was you.”
Keever nodded, dropped his eyes, and I thought the tears were going to come again. I said: “What are you up in the air about? It’s the teller’s word against yours! Besides, you were right when you ruled in favor of Sutton’s insurance company.”
“Yes, but Patterson will still argue that I took the ten thousand to rule the way I did. If I accepted a bribe, it would make no difference whether I was right or not. He’s probably arrested Sutton by now, and Brown says he’s going to remove me from office in the morning.”
“Can he do that?”
“Temporarily, until the state legislature hears the charges. It’s packed with Patterson’s pals. Unless I can come up with positive proof that I had nothing to do with that ten thousand, I’m through!”
“Have you contacted Sam Price?”
“No. I’ve tried my best to locate him, but I can’t. The fact that the D.A. hasn’t got a warrant for him is an indication that Price is turning state’s evidence.”
“Against his own client, Phil Sutton?”
“No, with his own client. My bet is that Patterson made a deal with Sutton. Sutton has ambitions in this state. By turning state’s evidence and claiming I forced the ten thousand out of him for a favorable opinion on the Acme deal, he’ll avoid prosecution and reap a huge reward from the governor’s office.”
“What about Price? That’s an awful chance for a lawyer to take.”
“No, Price is in the clear. Lew Brown tells me that his story is that he gave the check to Sutton in settlement of a claim he’d collected for him and made it to cash on Sutton’s request. He’ll say he knew nothing about why it was given to me but told the teller it was O.K. because he figured Sutton knew how to take care of his money.”