“All noble causes.” Spade deepened his sardonic voice to proclaim in ringing orator’s tones, “ ‘We have succeeded in making San Francisco a free city where capital can safely invest.’ ” In his own voice he added, “Toomey said that right now there’s the most wide-scale pilfering and theft on the docks that the port’s ever seen. They want it kept quiet but they want it stopped.”
Wise was thoughtful. “Sounds like a perfectly legitimate investigation to me, Sam.”
“Maybe. But since I’m too well known on the waterfront to go undercover myself on the docks these days, Toomey ‘recommended’ I take on Miles Archer as a partner. Burns used Miles undercover in Seattle to ferret around, glad-hand people, get them talking, then turned them in as Commies. Toomey said he’s heard only good things about him.”
“As blatant as that?”
“As blatant as that. Between the lines no Archer, no job. So Miles is going down on the docks undercover tomorrow night for Spade and Archer.”
“And Iva Archer has nothing to do with this?”
“Nothing.”
“What if she thinks she does?”
“I can’t help what people think.”
Wise held up wide-open defensive hands. “I wouldn’t be doing my job as your lawyer if I didn’t ask these things.”
“Yeah.” Spade retrieved his hat, stood up. “Remember from high school, Sid? Shakespeare? ‘First.... let’s kill all the lawyers’?”
He chuckled at his joke. Sid Wise didn’t.
31
At the Warehouse
Effie Perine came around Spade’s desk to fish the tobacco sack and cigarette papers out of his vest pocket. She made a paper trough, sprinkled flakes into it, expertly pulled the drawstring at the top of the sack with her teeth. As she did she glanced at the bare-topped desk across the room.
“We haven’t seen much of the new partner around here since he started,” she said.
“He’s working down on the docks nights, sleeping days.”
“Leaving poor little Iva all alone in that big apartment.”
“Enough of that, snip. You sound like Sid Wise.” She licked the seam, smoothed the cigarette, twisted the ends, placed one of them between Spade’s lips, went back around the desk, and sat down in the oaken armchair.
“I don’t like that woman, Sam. She’s too blonde and too good-looking and she’s got too good a figure.” She added snidely, “For her age. I hear she’s been talking about divorce.”
“You women,” said Spade, shaking his head. He picked a flake of tobacco off his lower lip. “Leave me out of it.”
“Will she?”
Spade’s face got sullen. “She’ll have to.”
The door opened. Miles Archer came in. He was dressed for the docks: watch cap, heavy mackinaw, waterproof khaki pants over heavy work boots.
“Mr. Archer,” said Effie with a smile, then added cheerily, “I’ll get those papers typed up for you to sign, Mr. Spade.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
Archer turned to watch Effie go through the door. When he turned back to Spade his eyes gleamed wetly. But all he did was sit down in the client’s chair Effie Perine had vacated and say, “I’ve got my foot in the door, Sam.”
“In just four nights?” Spade spoke with what seemed like admiration. “Does that mean you know who’s doing it? Where they’re storing the stolen goods? Are they in it for the money? Or for something else?”
“Of course for the money. This ain’t nickel-and-dime stuff, Sam. This is big-time, organized thievery.”
Spade said thoughtfully, “Maybe someone in the labor movement wants to disrupt the status quo, like the Wobblies kept trying to do up in Seattle after the union movement got squashed by all those ex-servicemen coming home needing jobs.”
“The Wobblies were just a Commie front anyway,” said Archer darkly. “Things are different down here. But maybe you’ve got something at that, Sam. My first night, a Commie named Robbie Brix I got blackballed in Seattle shows up at the Blue Book shape-up.” The small brown eyes again became almost beady. He hitched his chair closer. “And he gets hired. Night work under the lights on a freighter with a tight turnaround schedule. A known Commie. When his shift ends he leaves real quick, like he has a date. A date at four in the morning? So the next night I follow him. Just a couple blocks.”
“He spot you?”
“You kidding?” Archer sat back in his chair, lit a cigarette, blew out smoke, preened. “I been doing this a long time. Next night I picked him up where I’d left him the first night, followed him another couple blocks, dropped him again. Last night I tracked him to a warehouse where Green dead-ends up against the side of Telegraph Hill.”
“Small two-story red brick, pre-quake, loading dock and a big overhead door? In the one-hundred-block stub just off Sansome?”
“You got it. There were lights on inside.”
“Right across the Embarcadero from the cotton warehouse on Piers fifteen and seventeen,” mused Spade. “That’s where a lot of the dry goods have been disappearing from.”
“Anyway, I climbed up on the loading dock. I could hear voices, like maybe Brix was reporting to someone, but I couldn’t make out any words for sure. Then four men came out so quick I just had time to jump off the side of the dock without them seeing me. One gave money to Brix before they all went off together. Too risky to tail ’em. So I snuck a gander in a window. Place was crammed to the rafters with goods — just the sort of stuff’s been disappearing from the docks.”
“Could you identify the men if you saw ’em again?”
“Sure, all of ’em.”
“That’s great work, Miles. Think you should drop Brix for now? He knows you. He sees you, your cover’s gone. We’ll know where to find him if we need him. Instead, try to spot any of the others tonight, especially the one who paid Brix the money.”
“That works.” Archer stood, stretched, yawned. “All I wanna do is go home and make the little lady glad to see me.”
After Miles Archer had departed, Spade rolled and smoked three more cigarettes. The phone rang twice while he did. He ignored it. Finally, he took a clipboard from the deep drawer of his desk, carried it into the outer office.
Effie Perine was opening the morning’s mail with an ornate bronze Greek dagger. The porcelain designs on the metal scabbard included a two-headed green eagle and a peacock of many colors, both outlined in thin curved metal strips.
“Be careful you don’t stick yourself with that thing.”
She showed him the blade. “It’s dull as a spoon. But it makes a good letter opener.”
“Easy enough to sharpen it up. From a secret admirer?”
“From Penny. Years ago. I found it in a drawer at home the other day and...” Her voice faltered. “I just...”
“Yeah.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. His eyes were bleak. He gestured at the opened mail. “Anything interesting?”
“Not in the mail.” She set aside the dagger, recovered. “But there were two calls. Richardson wanting a progress report and a woman who sounded Chinese wanting an appointment.”
“She leave a name?”
“No. But her voice... Remember three years ago, the student who said her name was Mai-lin Choi?”
“I never laid eyes on her, but yeah, I remember. If she calls again let’s have her in to take a look at her. And tell Richardson the thief is his stepson, and does he want us to pursue it any further. We can get the goods on the kid right enough, but it’ll be hard to keep the law out of it.”
Effie Perine made a note on her shorthand pad.
Spade said, “Miles makes it sound like he’s close to breaking the theft ring.”