The captain shook his head slowly. He looked out the window and took a great square of linen out of his pocket and blew his nose. “No — I don’t think so,” he said slowly. “Cullen and the cab driver say you was at Cullen’s house yesterday afternoon when Haardt was shot.”
He looked up at Kells and his big mouth slit across his face to show yellow uneven teeth. “Was you?”
Kells smiled faintly, nodded.
“That’s good enough for me.” The captain blew his nose again noisily, folded the handkerchief carefully and put it in his pocket. “Perry’s the only one who says you killed Doc. Lieutenant Reilly thinks you did but we can’t run this department on thinks... I think Perry’s guilty as hell.”
They all nodded sagely.
Kells said: “So long, Captain.” He and Beery started out of the room.
The captain spoke again as Kells went through the door: “Where was you last night?”
Kells turned. “I was drunk. I don’t remember.” His eyes glittered with amusement.
The big man looked at him and his face wrinkled slowly to a grin. “Me too,” he said. He slapped his thigh and laughed — a terrific crashing guffaw. His laughter followed Kells and Beery down the stairs, through the corridor, echoing and re-echoing.
Beery said: “See you in church.”
Kells went out into the sunlight, walked down First to Broadway, up Broadway to his bank.
The teller told him he had a balance of five thousand, one hundred and thirty dollars. He asked that the account be transferred to a New York bank, then changed his mind.
“I’ll take it in cash.”
The teller gave him five thousand-dollar notes, a hundred, a twenty and a ten-dollar bill. Kells took the sheaf of twenty-four new hundred-dollar bills out of his pocket and exchanged twenty of them for two more thousand-dollar notes. He folded the seven thousand-dollar notes and put them in a black pin-seal cardcase, put the case in his inside breast pocket. He put the five hundreds and the smaller bills in his trouser pocket and went out and got into a cab.
He said “Ambassador” and looked at his watch. It was two-forty; he had three hours and twenty minutes to get home and pack and make the Chief.
“Gerry.” Granquist called to him as he crossed the lobby.
He waited until she had crossed to him, smiled ingenuously. “Gerry in the hay, baby,” he said gently. “Mister Kells in public.”
She laughed softly — a metallic softness.
Kells asked: “Did you get my note?” Uh huh.” She spoke rapidly, huskily. “I woke up right alter you left, I guess. Your phone’s been raising bloody hell. I’m going home and get some sleep...”
She held out a closed, black-gloved hand; Kells took his key.
He said: “Come on back upstairs — I’ve found a swell spot for your stuff.”
“Oh — yeah?” Her face brightened.
They went to the elevator, up to Kells’ room. Granquist sat in a steel-gray leather chair with her back to the windows, and Kells walked up and down.
“Lee Fenner has been the boss of this town for about six years,” he said. “The reform element moved in last election, but Fenner’s kept things pretty well under control — he has beautiful connections all the way to Washington...”
He paused while Granquist took out tobacco and papers, started to roll a cigarette.
“You wanted to sell your stuff to Fay for five grand,” he went on. “If it’s as good as you think it is we can get fifteen from Fenner... That’s ten for you and five for me” — he smiled a little — “as your agent...”
Granquist said: “I was drunk when I talked to Fay. Fifteen’s chicken-feed. If you want to help me handle this the way it should be handled we can get fifty.”
“You have big ideas, baby. Let’s keep this practical.”
Granquist lighted her cigaret, said: “How would you like to buy me a drink?”
Kells went into the dressing room and took two bottles of whiskey out of a drawer. He tore off the tissue-paper wrappings and went back into the room and put them on a table.
“One for you and one for me.” He took a cork-screw out of his pocket.
The phone buzzed.
Kells went to the phone, and Granquist got up and took off her gloves and began opening the bottles.
Kells said: “Hello... Yes — fine, Stella... Who?... Not Kuhn, Stella — maybe it’s Cullen... Yeah... Put him on...”
He waited a moment, said: “Hello, Willie... Sure...”He laughed quietly. “No, your car’s all right. I’ll send one of the boys in the garage out with it, or bring it out myself if I have time... I’m taking a powder... The Chief: six o’clock... Uh huh, they’re too tough out here for me. I’m going back to Times Square where it’s quiet... Okay, Willie. Thanks, luck — all that... G’bye.”
He hung up, went to the table and picked up one of the opened bottles. He said: “Do you want a glass or a funnel?”
Granquist took the other bottle and sat down, jerked her head toward the phone. “Was that on the square — you’re going?”
“Certainly.”
“You’re a sap.” She tilted the bottle to her mouth, gurgled.
Kells went to a little table against one wall, took two glasses from a tray and went back and put them on the center table. He poured one of them half full. “No, darling — I’m a very bright fella.” He drank. “I’m going to get myself a lot of air while I can. The combination’s too strong. I’m not ambitious.
“You’re a sap.”
Kells went to a closet and took out two traveling bags, a large suitcase. He took the drawers out of a small wardrobe trunk, put them on chairs.
“You’d run out on a chance to split fifty grand?” She was elaborately incredulous.
Kells started taking things out of the closets, putting them in the trunk. “Your information is worth more to Fenner — than anyone else,” he said. “If it’s worth that much he’ll probably pay it. You can send me mine...”
No, god-damn it! You stay here and help me swing this or you don’t get a nickel.”
Kells stopped packing, turned wide eyes toward Granquist. “Listen, baby,” he said slowly, “I’ve got a nickel. I’m getting along swell legitimately. You take your bottle and your extortion racket, and screw...”
Granquist laughed. She got up and went to Kells and put her arms around his body. She didn’t say anything, just looked at him and laughed.
The wide, wild look went out of his eyes slowly. He smiled. He said: “What makes you think it’s worth that much?”
Then he put her arms away gently and went to the table and poured two drinks.
Chapter Three
At about six-forty Kells dropped Granquist at her apartment house on the corner of Wilcox and Yucca.
“Meet you in an hour at the Derby.”
She said: “Oke — adios.”
Kells drove up Wilcox to Cahuenga, up Cahuenga to Iris, turned up the short curving slope to Cullen’s house. The garage doors were open, he drove the car in and then went up and rang the bell. No one answered. He went back down and closed the garage doors and walked down to Cahuenga, down Cahuenga to Franklin.
He stood on the corner a little while and then went into a delicatessen and called a Hempstead number. The line was busy, he waited a few minutes, called again, said: “Hello, Ruth... Swell... Listen: I’m going to be very busy tonight — I’ve got about a half-hour... You come out and walk up to Las Palmas, and if you’re, sure you’re not tailed come up Las Palmas to Franklin... If you’re not absolutely sure take a walk or something... I’ll give you a ring late... Yeah...”
He went out and walked over Franklin to Las Palmas. He walked back and forth between Las Palmas and Highland for ten minutes and then walked down the west side of Las Palmas to Hollywood Boulevard. He didn’t see anything of Ruth Perry.