CRIME, INSURED
Maxwell Grant
CHAPTER I. CRIME'S FORECAST
WALLY DRILLICK stood before the big mirror in the living room of his swank apartment. He was adjusting his black bow tie with the utmost care. Wally was most particular about his appearance when he wore tuxedo attire. It was necessary in his specialized profession.
Wally was a crook who worked on a deluxe scale. A good dresser, a smooth talker, he could wangle his way into any social circle. Wally was handsome; and conscious of it. That also helped his cause. All in all, Wally had proven himself most useful to big-shots like "Duke" Unrig.
Wally was thinking of that very fact when he finished preening himself in the mirror. He placed a cigarette in a monogrammed holder and seated himself in an easy chair to enjoy a smoke. It was not quite time to start on tonight's expedition; hence Wally had opportunity to consider recent events.
Crime had gone ultra-modern in Manhattan. Big-shots - like Duke Unrig - had discarded old-fashioned methods. They staged their latest jobs with clock-like precision, accompanied by streamlined speed.
Tough-mugged hoodlums had been shoved to the background. Instead, the big-shots used smooth workers like Wally - who spent their leisure hours in smart night clubs and high-priced taprooms, instead of underworld dives.
Of course, there were the "finger men" - the lads who slipped the information to the big-shots. They worked as doormen, waiters, or other attendants in clubs, hotels and apartments. Some of the finger men were chauffeurs or butlers in private homes; good places from which to point out spots for crime.
Duke Unrig was one big-shot who handled the racket right. From dope that his finger men gave him, Duke mapped his campaigns. His orders went to chaps like Wally; and the well-oiled machinery moved.
Wally had found every job a cinch. Loot was plentiful; the hauls were large. Duke received the proceeds and saw to it that Wally and the other gentlemen crooks received enough cash to live in lavish style.
Duke still had tough guys on his pay rolclass="underline" "trigger men" who liked to use their gats. Those "torpedoes"
were necessary, in case of emergency. They were under strict orders, though, to use the soft pedal; to keep out of sight unless the jobs went sour.
So far, none of Wally's expeditions had produced the slightest difficulty. In Wally's conceited opinion, Duke's trigger-handlers were totally unnecessary.
In fact, Duke had been ready to dispense with his gunmen, until some other big-shots had encountered trouble. Oddly, some smooth jobs had been slipping lately. Wise criminals had been running into unexpected obstacles; sometimes the police had received timely tip-offs.
The newspaper on Wally's mahogany table told how the law had bagged a well-dressed crook and four wanted thugs who were disguised as truckmen. The five had been loading rare paintings into a moving van, from a millionaire's Long Island residence.
The millionaire's servants had actually been helping the thieves, thinking that the pictures were going to an art exhibition. The police had arrived in time to interfere. Who had passed the tip-off, was still a mystery to the big-shot who had arranged the game.
That was but one case of thwarted crime. Roughly, Wally estimated that the percentage of successful jobs had been cut in half during the past month. His opinion - again an egotistical one - was that the field had overcrowded, making less good workers available. Big-shots other than Duke Unrig were handicapped. They did not have the services of men like Wally Drillick.
THERE was a thumping at the apartment door. Wally discarded his cigarette and strolled over to answer the knock. A pasty-faced delivery man extended a box of laundry. Wally paid him three dollars and forty cents.
As soon as the man had gone, the crook opened the package. Between two starched shirts, Wally found an envelope.
It contained a message from Duke; it referred to the "Melrue job" and mentioned contact at the Top Hat Club. With the message was a table reservation at the night club, also a faked membership card to a fraternal order that bore the name of James Ludas from Cincinnati. Wally had used credentials like these before.
Duke's note added two other details. After he burned the message, Wally took care of those points.
He went into a bedroom; opened a bureau drawer and produced a thick silk handkerchief that had two thin slits, artfully cut near the center of its expensive fabric. Reaching behind the drawer, he brought a stubby revolver from a hidden compartment. He placed the weapon in his hip pocket.
Going out through the living room, Wally stopped long enough to pick up the newspaper and turn to the society page. He smiled suavely at the printed portrait of a light-haired girl, whose eyes carried a vivacious sparkle, apparent even in the coarse-screened newspaper photograph. Her features were of even formation, with the possible exception of her chin, which showed determination. That pleased Wally.
"You're a good-looker, kid," he said, in a low-purred tone. "Too bad you won't be around when I call.
Maybe it's all for the better, though. I'll remember the address. Maybe I'll drop in some time, without this."
By "this," Wally meant the silk handkerchief that served him as a mask. He dangled it in front of the photograph, then pocketed it. He studied the picture once more.
He read the name beneath it: Francine Melrue. The caption stated that she was to be on the reception committee of a charity ball that was being held tonight.
What the society report did not mention was the fact that Francine Melrue had recently become heir to half of a million-dollar estate left by her deceased uncle. The girl's brother, George, had received an equal amount. In the apportionment, Francine had been given family gems valued at one hundred thousand dollars.
Those jewels, Wally happened to know, were somewhere in the apartment that Francine Melrue occupied. Wally's job was to pick up the gems during the girl's absence. The task was entirely smoothed over, the final details would be awaiting at the Top Hat Club.
Donning a light overcoat, Wally made sure that a pair of gray kid gloves were in the pocket. They were important, for they eliminated finger prints. Standing in front of the mirror, Wally adjusted a natty derby hat upon his head. Lighting a fresh cigarette, he strolled to the door.
He paused long enough to transfer the revolver to an overcoat pocket. Since a gun had been mentioned in Duke's orders, Wally preferred to have it handy.
THERE was only one inconvenience about the apartment house where Wally Drillick resided. It was rather secluded; and taxis were not always on hand. Wally made it a practice to allow for a few minutes'
delay in case the doorman had to summon a cab.
Tonight, Wally was in luck. When he reached the sidewalk, he saw a shiny, streamlined cab parked in the hack space out front.
The driver opened the rear door as soon as Wally appeared. The crook saw an eager, pointed face peering from the front seat. The hackle questioned:
"Where to, sir?"
Wally named the Top Hat Club as he stepped aboard. The driver nodded to show that he knew the address. The door slammed shut; the cab was in motion. Wally settled back to draw a long puff from his fancy cigarette holder. He heard a slight stir in the darkness beside him.
Quickly, Wally shifted. A passing street lamp gave his eyes a momentary view of a black-cloaked figure.
Wally caught the glow of burning eyes beneath the brim of a slouch hat. He sped his ungloved hand for his overcoat pocket, plucked out the stubby revolver and swung the muzzle toward the being beside him.
The glimmer of the gun was seen by those burning eyes. A black-gloved hand sped forward with trip-hammer speed. Before Wally could hook the trigger with his forefinger, his wrist was twisted in a clamping grip. The crook doubled to the floor, writhing in the clutch of an expert jujutsu hold.