"To hell with that," Jeff said.
Tardon.**
"You take care of the taxi driver. If you talk fast you can keep Mm quiet. Spencer is mine/*
He felt the girl's hand on his arm. "Maybe Julio's right," she said.
"I don't care if he's right or not," Jeff said. "This time old Jeff gets into the act."
He moved up alongside Cordovez and as he did so the detective hissed softly and lifted one hand.
"I think he has arrived," he said, pointing to a taxi that had stopped about fifty feet away. "Yes. Come," he said and started moving fast.
Jeff stayed with him, seeing the driver step down and start for the trunk at the rear. On the opposite side, in the shadows, a man alighted and Jeff veered that way. For an instant the lights bothered him and then he was safely past them, certain now that the man was Dan Spencer. He had a blue flight bag in one hand and as he started to turn toward the rear where the driver was unlocking the trunk, Jeff called to him.
"Hey, Spencer
The man wheeled, head slightly bent as he peered through the darkness. Jeff was stiE fifteen feet away but moving fast and now, as Spencer's hand whipped back under his coattail, he closed with a rush.
He saw the hand come round, the metallic gleam of reflected light on a gun barrel but by that time he was close enough and he moved with confidence. This was what he wanted. This was what he had been waiting for, He grunted happily as he grabbed the gun barrel before it leveled off.
He heard Spencer's muffled curse, heard the flight bag drop as the reporter swung at him. After that it was no contest. For Spencer was a powder-puff. Six feet tall and ill-conditioned, he would have weighed no more than a hundred and forty in a winter suit, and when Jeff, in close
OKE MINUTE PAST EIGHT
now, hooked his right against the bony chin, that was it
The gun came free in his hand as Spencer sagged against him, Jeff held him that way, pocketing the gun and then reaching for the flight bag. When he had it, he turned the reporter about, half supporting him, half leading him as he moved on wobbly legs. What happened between Cordovez and the driver, Jeff never knew, but as usual the little man handled his assignment with dispatch. By the time Jeff had pushed Spencer into the front seat, Cordovez appeared, lugging the heavy suitcase. Seconds later he was behind the wheel and gunning the motor, with Spencer beside him, while Jeff sat in back with Karen!
Once on the highway, Jeff reached down and opened the zipper on the flight bag. His fingers found the Manila envelope at once and when he began to probe the contents he could feel the packets of bills inside. He glanced ahead at Spencer, who was sitting up now, his gaze fixed on the windshield.
"This wraps you up, Spencer," he said.
"How does it?" the reporter said glumly.
"Harry Baker was killed for this money. YouVe got ft. 3>
"I didn't take it from Baker."
JWho did?"
"Luis Miranda/ 5
"But you knew Miranda had it.**
"Sure I knew it,"
"Somehow Grayson also knew Miranda had it," Jeff said, trying to sort out the things he knew and the things he had heard. "He made Miranda return it yesterday afternoon. You knew that too." When there was no reply, he said: "You'd better make it good, Spencer; you haven't got much time."
There was still no answer and now Jeff tried to fit this new information into the bits and pieces already in mind.
The guess lie finally made was well considered and proved to be accurate.
"You're the one who made that phone call."
"What phone call?"
"Someone called from Harry Baker's room the night he was killed at seven minutes after eight. The police assumed Baker had made the call until they discovered his spine had been shattered, which m::de a call like that impossible. You said Miranda took the money."
"He did."
"But he didn't make the call. I saw him out in front of the hotel," Jeff said. "He stopped to speak to my driver. When I got to the desk it was eight minutes after eight, so Miranda couldn't have been in Baker's room a minute earlier."
"Aye!" The word came from Cordovez accompanied by a slapping sound. The detective had clapped his palm to his forehead.
"What's the matter?"
"Julio Cordovez is an imbecile," the little man said. "Aye, to be so stupid ... I have seen Luis Miranda come out," he said. "1 told you I was waiting there at Senor Baker's instruction. I saw you arrive, and Miranda. But I also saw Miranda come from the hotel a minute earlier and put an envelope in his car. I never think this can be big enough to hold all that money. I do not think at all."
TTou hear that, Lane?" Spencer said. "Satisfied?"
"That Miranda took the money, yes. But you made the call. You were in his room."
"All right," Spencer said resentfully, Til tell you, . . . Sure I was in the room. I knew about the payoff. Grayson had a lot of fun telling me. He said I'd been on his back for a weekly payment and now he was getting clean with Vegas and clearing out and he hoped I starved to death.
"I asked for the assignment at die hotel so I could see
ONE MINUTE PAST EIGHT jgo
what happened. I saw Grayson give the envelope to Baker. I was waiting when Baker came down later and left the key at the desk before he went into the bar, so I stepped up and palmed it. I went upstairs and started looking for the envelope and I hadn't hardly started when I heard somebody at the door. I just had time to duck into the closet when in walks Miranda. I can't figure why he wants the money but that's the way it is."
"Never mind," Jeff said as he remembered the reason Muriel Miranda had given him. "What's the rest of it?"
"He starts going through the drawers and comes up with this gun. He has it in his hand and is trying to pick the lock on the suitcase and Baker walks in on him."
**He'd come back to get his wallet/' Jeff said.
"I guess so. Anyway, Miranda starts to apologize. He says he's in the wrong room, but Baker won't go for it. He don't know Miranda. To Baker the guy's a thief and he moves up and makes a grab for the gun and it goes off. Miranda takes his keys. He opens the suitcase and takes off with the envelope and I don't dare make a move because I know he'll plug me too/'
He swore softly and took a breath. "There I am, maybe going to get mixed up in murder, and I haven't even got the dough. I don't know Baker couldn't make a call, so I take a chance. I dial Grayson's place and luckily I get him. I pretend I'm Baker. I say, 'Miranda's got the money,' and hang up/'
Jeff believed this much as he recalled the session in Pedro Vidal's private office. Grayson had called Miranda before he came to Segumal. But later the lawyer had walked out on him in spite of Grayson's annoyance.
"You figured Grayson would force Miranda to return the money/' he said.
"I knew he would. He had to have the cash -with this hotshot from Vegas in town. But I wouldn't stand a chance
of getting that envelope from Miranda. I had to stir up some trouble and hope. I followed Miranda all the next day/' he said. "And at that you nearly loused it up for me."
"How?"
"You were there, across the street. Miranda had to park a couple of blocks away, but I had a cab. I knew where he must be going so I was ahead of him. Remember when I asked you to have a beer, how I swung you round so your back was to the street? Well, if I hadn't, you'd have seen Miranda go into the building. Boy, was that a break when you turned down that beer?
"The minute you started down the street I went up there. I hoped there'd be trouble that might give me a chance, and there was. I inched the outer door open and Miranda was beating the hell out of Grayson. I ducked behind the door when he came out and when I went in again there was Grayson dead on the floor and there was the envelope on the desk."