"And Maxison?"
"He managed to keep his nose clean, but only just. Laura supported his story, and after sweating him, Killeano turned him loose. He's back at work now, but, I must say, he looks like a fugitive from the Lost Horizon. There's one thing you ought to know. They've turned up Brodey's body."
"He's dead?" I said sharply.
"Yeah. He was found at Dayden Beach. Your Luger by his side. Guess who killed him?"
"I know," I said, clenching my fists. "So I'm wanted for three murders now?"
"You sure are," Davis said, looking smug.
"Too bad," I said, took a drink and eyed him over. "What else?"
"That's all the topical news," he said, reached inside his pocket and took out a five-dollar bill. He tossed it over to me. "Picked that up at the Casino a couple of nights back."
I turned the note over, held it up to the light. It looked all right to me.
"So what?"
"It's a dud."
I stared at the note again. It still looked fine to me.
"Sure?"
"Yeah. I had it checked by my bank. They say it's a first-class job, but it's a dud all right."
"I'll say it's a first-class job," I said. "You got it from the Casino?"
He nodded. "It was with two other fives I won. They were all right; this a phoney."
"W ell, that's something," I said, and slipped the note into my pocket.
"Hey, I want a good one in return," Davis said, alarmed. "And while we are on the important subject of money, you also owe me a hundred bucks."
"I do?"
"Yeah. I've been spending your money. Guess what. I've hired a private dick to dig up dirt on your pals. Howja like that?"
"You did? That's a smart idea. Did he find anything?"
"Did he—hell!" Davis rubbed his hands gleefully, "it wasn't such a dumb idea. One thing he did find out was that cat-house you're interested in bums five times the electricity it did two years ago. That anything?"
"Only if it means there's been some electrical equipment installed."
"That's the way I figured it. It'd be a swell hide-out for a coining plant, wouldn't it?"
"All right," I said. "What else?"
"Don't rush us," Davis said, grinning. "This dick ain't been on the job a couple of days. He's turned up something on Gomez if he interests you."
"Gomez?" I said, frowning. "I don't know where I can fit him in."
"Well, let's skip Gomez then."
"What did he find out?"
"Gomez runs human freight into Cuba."
I studied my finger-nails. "Go on," I said.
"That's it. He does it in a big way. He has three boats, a . bunch of boys working for him, and he gets a thousand dollars a head."
"Who's he carrying?"
"The revolution boys. There's a lot of traffic going on between this coast and Cuba. He's smuggling in guns as well. From what I hear there'll be another bust-up in Cuba before long."
"Too bad for him if Killeano pinched one of his boats," I said, thoughtfully.
"He ain't likely to," Davis said. "He must be giving Gomez plenty of protection."
"But suppose Killeano in a fit of zeal pinched Gomez's boat, what do you think Gomez would do?"
"I know damn well what he'd do. He'd take a crack at Killeano," Davis said, eyeing me doubtfully. "Why should Killeano have a fit of zeal?"
"He's just taken over the police department; the election is close. It'd be a good publicity stunt to make a sudden clean-up on that racket—especially if the press gave him a spread."
Davis's fat face creased. "Now what the hell are you cooking up?"
"Where does Gomez keep his boats?"
"Search me," Davis returned, looking at Tim and then at me. "This dick—Clairbold's his name (hell of a name, ain't it?)—fell over the dirt accidentally. He wasn't looking for it. He was sniffing around in Lois's apartment trying to find any letters Killeano might have written to Lois. It was my idea. I reckoned we could crucify Killeano if we could get hold of some of his mushy letters and print them. Clairbold was digging around in Lois's bedroom when Gomez and another guy marched into the outer room. Clairbold ducks behind a curtain and hears Gomez planning to run a bunch of nationals over to Cuba tonight, and to bring another bunch back the night after."
I nodded. "Nice work." I said. "Did he find any letters?"
"No. He skipped out as soon as Gomez quit. He didn't think it was too healthy to hang around."
"This might develop, Jed," I said. "It's worth going after. Can you get hold of the dick?"
"Yeah. Can get him now if you want him."
"Do that. Tell him to hook himself on to Gomez and follow him wherever he goes. I want to find out where Gomez keeps his boats, and where he'll land those Cubans tonight. Tell him to call back here. We'll wait."
Davis nodded, went over to the telephone.
Tim eyed me thoughtfully. "Can't see where this is getting you," he said.
I moved impatiently. "I'm getting soft," I said. "Know what that kid of mine made me promise?"
He shook his head.
"I wouldn't kill Killeano. Imagine. She thought I was going straight into his office and was going to fill him full of lead. Can you beat that?"
"Well, weren't you?" Tim asked, a sly grin in his eyes.
"That was the general idea," I said, scowling, "but how was I to know she'd know?"
"So you're not going to fix Killeano?" Tim said, surprised. "Then why come back here?"
"I promised I wouldn't kill him, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to fix him," I said grimly. "I have to work it differently now. It'll take longer, but it'll work out the same way- I have to find someone else to do it for me: Gomez, for instance."
Davis came back from the telephone.
"Clairbold says Gomez is at the jai alai court right now. He reckons Gomez will make the trip after the game."
"Okay," I said.
"He'll come over here after he's seen Gomez off," Davis said. "You'll like this guy. He's good."
I put my feet on the table. "Stick around," I said. "We may be busy in a little while."
"Not me," Davis said hurriedly. "I know when you're planning to start something. I smell it in the air. Me—I'm going home."
I laughed. "Suit yourself," I said, handing him a hundred-dollar note and a five spot. "You'll have a fine spread for your front page in a day or so."
"Don't tell me," Davis said with an exaggerated shudder. "Let it come as a surprise."
3
Clairbold was a young blond man in a brown suit and a cocoa-coloured straw hat with a brown and blue tropical band. He followed Tim into the sitting-room, and looked at me the way a morbid sightseer looks at a messy street accident.
I eyed him over. He was very young. His face was pink and plump, and the blond beard on his chin was carelessly shaved. His eyes were inquisitive and a little scared. His teeth projected, giving him a look of a young, amiable rabbit. He didn't look a shamus; that, of course, was in his favour.