“Because Manthell and Trip were plugged with different rods. Here was the layout. Manthell had the big .45 on him, and the bullet in Trip came from that howitzer. Trip had a little .32; and the slug in Manthell fitted it.”
“You say that Trip had a .32? Stub-nosed?”
“Sure, I saw the rod myself.”
Rook nodded. His molded face was meditative.
“That was Trip’s rod,” asserted the big shot, musingly. “I told him to use a .32 because it wouldn’t make too much noise. I figured Manthell was a setup.”
“Then Trip really got Manthell?”
“Sure. And Lingo got Trip. Say, Bart — I see it! Here’s the way Lingo must have worked it! He got in there after Trip had bumped Manthell. He blasted Trip with the .45. Then he planted the big cannon on Manthell to make it look like the hick finished off Trip.”
“Sounds right, Rook. Only one thing though: Buzz says Lingo called the boys up there to look it over. How did he handle that? He had to make it look like he’d humped Manthell.”
“That would have been easy. Lingo could have switched rods around to make it look like he had plugged Manthell after Manthell got Trip. Lingo must have swiped that rod of mine out of the table drawer. Then, after bluffing the boys, he rigged the setup that Cardona found. The .45 on Manthell and the .32 on Trip.”
“A .45 is a pretty big wagon, Rook. It’s funny they fell for it, there in Manthell’s mitt.”
“What was funny about it?” Rook’s tone was scornful. “They all thought Manthell was me, didn’t they? I’ve got a rep, haven’t I? Wouldn’t I be a logical guy to have a .45 on hand? Especially when there was no other rod around the place?”
BART pondered; then he nodded.
“Lingo Queed is a smart gazebo,” decided the private dick. “A mighty smart gazebo, even if he isn’t a hot gunner. He was good enough to beat Trip to the shot. But that wasn’t tough, I don’t think. It was brain work helped him out after that. I’d like to figure out just how he did switch things around. Let’s see: first off, he came in with that .45—”
“Wait a minute!” Rook came to his feet with an excited interruption. “Say, Bart, we’re all wet! Lingo wouldn’t have had a .45! I’ve told you he has no rep as a gunner. It wasn’t Lingo that bumped Trip! Lingo just used his noodle — that’s all.”
“Who got Trip then?” queried Bart. “Answer that one, Rook.”
“I’ll give you a question of my own,” proposed the big shot. “Answer it for me. Who is it that they say always handles a .45 automatic? Not just one gun but two — maybe more when he needs ‘em?”
“The Shadow!”
Bart’s ejaculation came spontaneously. It was delivered in an almost frightened gasp. Rook nodded, and grunted a calloused laugh.
“That’s it, Bart,” growled the big shot. “I’ve figured out the whole lay. We’ve known that The Shadow was in back of these phony mobs that have been making trouble every time I tried to swing a racket. Sooner or later, The Shadow was due to pay me a visit. What’s more, The Shadow was smart enough to have trailed Trip without our knowing it.
“The Shadow must have walked in there right after Trip. He got Trip making a getaway, Bart. It was quick curtains for Trip, being up against The Shadow. Then The Shadow found Manthell, thought the hick was me, and planted his big smoke-wagon on the body.
“So as to fool everybody, see? That’s The Shadow’s way. He knew the bulls would figure that I might handle a .45; and he took my regular gat along with him, out of the table drawer.”
Bart nodded; but he remained a trifle dubious. Rook grunted inquiringly. Bart spoke.
“How does Lingo figure in it then?” queried the private dick.
“EASY,” responded the big shot. “Perfect. He came in later. Knew about that elevator, or guessed it was there, and decided to rub me out on his own. He breezed in and found things the way The Shadow had left them.
“The setup was a beaut. It ought to have been since The Shadow had framed it. Lingo fell for it, like anybody would that thought Manthell was me. Lingo saw it would do for the bulls. A swell find — Rook Hollister and Trip Burley, each wiped out by the other.
“But Lingo wanted credit for getting me. That was a cinch. He could leave the .45 on Manthell, to make it look like I got Trip. That part was great. Then all Lingo had to do was plant his own rod — a .38 probably — on Trip, while he took the .32 for himself.”
“And then,” inquired Bart, “he called the boys in?”
“Sure,” acknowledged Rook. “He let them take a look. They saw Trip with a loaded rod. The bunch thought I’d bumped Trip and that Lingo had got me. So they gave Lingo credit. He didn’t have to use any imagination after that.
“All he had to do was set things back the way that The Shadow had planted them. So’s the bulls would be guessing. And they are. Joe Cardona fell for it, like the boob he is. You can’t blame him, though.
“Nobody could have doped all this out but us. On account of our knowing that Manthell wasn’t me. Say, Bart — you burned up those photos you got from Waylock, didn’t you?”
Bart nodded. His expression was followed by a long pause, while he and Rook chewed the ends of half-smoked cigars. At last, Rook chuckled with satisfaction.
“I’m lucky to be out of it,” decided the big shot. “And Lingo is a sap to be in it. I wanted Trip to be the fall guy, running things while I was under cover. Lingo muscling in didn’t sound so good when you first told me.
“But it looks great now. I’ll tell you why, Bart. The Shadow was on my trail. That means he’ll be on Lingo’s later. If The Shadow gets Lingo, fine. If he doesn’t, we’ll rub Lingo after we get The Shadow. Then put a stooge in Lingo’s place.”
“But getting The Shadow’s no cinch,” put in Bart, ruefully. “It’s going to take a long time, any way you look at it. We’ve only got one way to pull it.”
“We have two, Bart. First, the system I intended to use. Through Buzz Dongarth. He’ll tip the real fellows in the bad lands to check on every mob. Sooner or later, they’re going to spot some of these mugs who are working with The Shadow.
“Get The Shadow’s agents, and we’ll have a lead on him. We’re hitting The Shadow where he’s weak, Bart. But that’s only one system. With what we’ve figured out tonight, we’ve got another way. Through Buzz himself.”
“How’s that, Rook?”
“Buzz will get close to Lingo. When The Shadow begins to put the heat on Lingo, maybe Buzz will be lucky enough to spot it. But grabbing The Shadow’s agents will be our first break.
“No matter how good The Shadow is, he can’t be everywhere. He was at the Casino Rouge the night Ping Gradley went to take Karl Durmsted for a ride. But there were others there, outside.
“Those are the ginks we’ll get for a starter. All the while, we’ll have Buzz keeping tabs on Lingo. We’re sitting pretty, Bart. I’m dead” — Rook laughed scornfully — “so they think; and that puts me at the top of the heap!”
ROOK HOLLISTER leaned back and puffed his cigar in satisfaction. Bart Koplin shared his chief’s elation. Big shot and lieutenant felt that their position was secure.
Both would have been concerned had they known of The Shadow’s own deductions, that the invisible scourge of the underworld was sure that Rook Hollister was still at large.
Yet, even with that situation existing, Rook Hollister held a powerful position. Untrammeled by the worries of kingship, this former ruler of the underworld was planning crafty measures from under perfect cover.
From the security of this hideout, Rook Hollister could strike as no foe of The Shadow had ever struck before. For the present, The Shadow could do no more than nullify Rook’s strategy.
Well had Rook planned this dive into obscurity. Through Bart Koplin and Buzz Dongarth, the big shot still retained a powerful grip upon formidable forces in the underworld.