The voice at the other end of the line was courteous. “You think he’s going under an assumed name, Mr. Green?”
I snorted. “Hell’s bells, get wise. Plant a machine in front of his apartment with a good photographer in it and get some pictures that’ll show his face. Get his description and photo and then take it up into the rogues’ gallery. If that bird ain’t a crook I’ll eat my hat. I’ll call you up again this afternoon, Get busy.”
I chuckled a bit as I hung up the telephone. I was playing a hunch, but that name Simpson didn’t seem to fit that bird. Also he’d picked the lock of my apartment like an expert. I went out to the beach, laid in the sand, watched the breakers roll in, and did a little thinking. I wanted rest, and I didn’t propose to let any political crook get me all stirred up.
That afternoon I came in, took a shower, shaved, changed my clothes, and read a little bit, then started out for dinner. Before I left I called up the detective agency. The manager himself came to the phone and he was all excited.
“I’ve located him” he said. “We have all the dope on him right here in the office. He’s Jim Gilvray, better known as Big Front Gilvray, and he’s one of the best in the country on jewels. They say he works on assignments and never monkeys with commercial stuff, but always goes after nationally known gems on orders from big fences. As a result he’s never been convicted, because the stuff he takes never gets on the market. He lifts some famous gem for a customer, gets his pay in cash, and keeps his own counsel. He’s reported to work in with some big fence somewhere, but the police have never been able to find out who or where. He’s a suspicious bird, and I think he spotted our shadow this afternoon. He slipped out somewhere in a car and the shadow lost him. I’m having them keep watch of the apartment house, though.”
I laughed.
“You needn’t. He won’t be back, not if he’s the kind of a bird you’ve described.”
There was a moment’s hesitation over the telephone while the manager thought that over.
“What do you want us to do?” he asked.
“Send in your bill to the same address as before,” I shot back and hung up.
So I’d had a visit from Big Front Gilvray had I? He’d delivered that note in person, and the only reason he’d done that was because he and Don G. Herman were playing a game so blamed deep they wouldn’t even trust a messenger. It was going to be good this time. I made up my mind I’d accept the invitation and call on Don G. Herman. Either that bird was going to come clean, or he was going to be inconvenienced.
Naturally, I didn’t send in my card when I called on Don G. Herman. Being I was what I was, and knowing what I knew, I took a little advantage of him.
His house was set back in a big yard, a sign of the affluence of its former owners, before the fire, and the desire of the present owner for privacy. All right. He was no more set on privacy than I was. Almost anything might transpire at our little interview, and I didn’t want to have any advance publicity cramp my style.
I slipped over the fence about nine o’clock, and Bobo was right behind me, walking slow and stiff-legged, knowing as well as I did that we were trespassing on another man’s property, and likely to run into trouble almost any time. We got into the grounds without any trouble, and walking around a bit and watching Bobo, convinced me that they didn’t have any outside guards.
I made the round of the house and paused before a window that had a patch of light behind it, shining through a drawn shade. That was the only place on the ground floor where there was any light except the front hall. I couldn’t figure the place out exactly, but I had plenty of time.
While I was waiting outside this window I heard the jangle of a bell at the front of the house, and a chair scraped back in the room above me, while steps hurried to the front of the house.
I figured that there was only one person on the ground floor, that I hadn’t heard any talking, so that he or she had been alone in that lighted room, and that, having gone to answer the door, the coast was clear, so I slipped out a little jimmy, pried open the window, and took a look inside.
Luck was playing with me, and it was as well it was, for I wasn’t feeling any too gentle toward politicians just then, and if I’d poked my nose into a room where Don G. Herman was holding forth there might have been trouble.
The room was like an office, sort of a combination den and office. I’d heard he had one in his house, and that he did a good part of his work there. I’d also heard that there were lots of secret comings and goings, and that the servants were put in the back of the house every night, within call of a buzzer that was on the desk if Herman needed ’em, but well out of the way if he didn’t. So I hadn’t been taking any very great chances after all.
I turned to Bobo.
“Wait there and stand guard. — Watch,” I said, and climbed through the window. I knew Bobo would stand guard down there, and if need be he’d come through that window, glass and all, like it wasn’t there.
There was a big rolltop desk in the corner, and I made for that. How I do love rolltop desks in corners. The place back of them is just made for hiding in an emergency, and if anything happens you can always reach down and jerk the man that’s sitting at ’em out of his chair onto the floor.
About the time I got parked I heard voices coming my way.
“It was very nice of you to call, Miss Chadwick. I appreciate the courtesy of giving me your first evening on your return from college.”
The voice was oily and smooth, too damned smooth. I didn’t like it, and I placed it, as being the personal property of Don G. Herman, right at the start.
The girl’s voice had the ripple of youth in it, but there was something strained about it, a subtle something, fear or anxiety, I couldn’t tell which.
“Your note said it was something about father?”
They were in the office now, and Oily Voice dodged the question for a moment.
“Please be seated, Miss Chadwick. You cannot imagine my grief at learning of the death of your father. I sent my condolences and flowers, but I hesitated to intrude any business matters upon you or your mother until you had recovered from the shock. It’s been three months now, and you have graduated from college. I feel that you will understand the urgency which requires me to take the matter up at this time, just as you will appreciate the delicacy of my feelings in waiting this long.”
Wow! That was some speech. He talked as though he’d learned it by heart. I risked discovery by taking a peek out between a couple of books that stood on the top of the desk.
Herman was a big man, bigger than I’d expected. He sat at the rolltop desk, his thick, strong fingers drumming on the top while he watched the girl. He had a face that seemed to be crisscrossed with ten million wrinkles, a skin that was parchment-like in texture, a smile that caused wrinkles to ripple and twist clear back to his collar button, and his head was so bald it reminded me of the dome on the State Capitol building. There was just a fringe of hair above his ears, and the ears started close to his head at the bottom, but flared way out at the top. His lips were thick and spongy, he had a double chin, and was a huge figure of a man. For all his fat, the wrinkles on his face gave him the appearance of having lost flesh.
His eyes were the most striking feature about him. They were big and wide, and he seemed to hold them wide open by a conscious muscular effort. He gave the impression of having schooled the muscles of his eyes to register childlike innocence and candor.
The girl was flapper, all flapper. She’d come out here into the house of this thick lipped politician without so much as a second thought, and she sat back in her chair, her short skirt disclosing a couple of fancy garters, a little bare knee, and a pair of legs that would have won a beauty prize anywhere. Her waist was cut low, and her hat was stuck on at a saucy angle while her eyes played hide and seek around the brim. With it all, she was as cool as a cucumber, and gave the impression of being a girl who could take care of herself any time or any place.