He knew it was all wrong, but he didn’t want to know. We all dream of our rainbow. The gambler and petty crook can’t wait for the dream to be real. They want it now, today, without the wait of working. They are hungry, and they are never bright, and they will believe that almost any impossibility will work out fine. They are sure the most stupid robbery will succeed, the slowest horse will win, the most impossible stroke of fortune will happen for them. Weiss had lived his life against the odds, and he had to believe a long-shot had come home for him. If Baron had tried to give him $25,000 he would have been suspicious. A bet that won on an inside tip was about the only way Baron could have gotten him to take the money. But a pretty sure way.
“Tell me the whole story now, Sammy,” I said. “From the start. How did he happen to send you for the money at all?”
“I know The Baron a while, you know? I hang around. So he calls me Monday at the steam baths. Around noon; I always takes the steam before lunch, good for the blood. He says go up to Radford after one o’clock and collect. There’s a grand in it for me. A thousand bucks, you know? So I goes, and then it all busts loose like I told you. That Radford was nuts.”
“All right, now what happened after you left me?”
“I run into Misty at the corner. She told me Baron knew I was in a fix and he’d take care of me. She said to move around, but keep in touch, until Baron had a safe place to hide me.”
“Baron could have contacted you at any time?”
“Sure. I called him every hour that night. He sent Leo Zar to pick me up about three-fifteen A.M. Leo’s Baron’s muscleman.”
“Did you know then that Radford was dead?”
“No, I swear. I’d been ducking Freedman too hard.”
“Okay, go on.”
Sammy wiped his face. “Leo took me to a dump up on 115th Street. I laid low all next day. Leo come up that night with a bottle and told me the guy was dead. He said Baron was short, but he had a hot tip and was gonna bet for me. Wednesday Leo moved me over to Brooklyn. About one A.M. Leo shows up again and tells me the horse come in! We sneaked over to Baron’s pad. Baron paid me $25,000 and told me he’d got me in out here, and with all that dough he could get me out to Mexico. We go out for Mexico tomorrow, right?”
“We?” I said.
“You’re gonna help, right? The Baron told me to get in touch with you.”
“Baron told you to contact me? When? How?”
“A couple of hours ago. He sent a message out here.”
I just watched him for a time. Maybe a minute. A minute of silence is an eternity. Weiss fidgeted, twisted, sweated. I let him sweat. I was going to hit him as hard as I could.
“You know that bet was a lie,” I said. “You know that the money is exactly what Radford was supposed to have, and it’s missing, Sammy. It’s a frame-up! Baron told everyone you got the $25,000 and held out on him. He told the police that. The knife Radford was killed with is missing. You’ve got the money; you’ll get the knife next! You’re not going to Mexico; you’re going to be found with the money and the knife. You’ll probably be found dead.”
“No!” His eyes were glazed with terror.
“Damn it, Baron killed Radford! That’s where he got the $25,000. But you’ll take the fall. Your only chance is to come with me, find Baron, and take him and your story to the police. It wasn’t a gambling debt, Sammy; it was blackmail! They’ll listen.”
His fat quivered. “Get out! Get out!”
I don’t know if I could have talked him out of his hole, out of the hope of all weak men that everything will blow over as long as they do nothing. But I didn’t have to. The old woman and her gunman appeared at the door. The gunman had his gun.
“Out,” the old woman snapped.
I should have known the room would be bugged.
“A frame-up is trouble,” the old witch said. “I got no room for guys who think they’re innocent. Out, both of you, fast!”
I thought for a moment that Weiss was going to faint. He didn’t. I think he was afraid that if he passed out, he might never wake up. He stumbled for the door. I went behind him. We were herded down the stairs. The old man held the front door open. An icy blast greeted us. The woman gave us a parting message:
“One word and you’re both dead! Don’t come back.”
The door closed. It was dark now, and the wind off the bay chewed at our faces. Weiss walked like a drunk. I got him into the car. I remembered the money.
“Where’s the money, Sammy?”
He patted his suit coat. He had it in the lining.
“Okay,” I said, trying to sound confident. “Let’s get Baron.”
13
I parked in front of my office and herded Weiss up. I called Mort Fenner at Cassel’s horse room. I asked Mort to check on any bets made by Paul Baron on Wednesday that came in at 25-1. Mort didn’t have to check. № 25-1 shot had come in all week.
“All you had to do was check the results,” I said to Weiss.
Weiss said nothing. He had been too busy to check. He had been too scared. He might have learned the truth.
“Baron lives on East Sixteenth Street?” I said.
“He got a couple of pads,” Weiss said reluctantly. “He paid me at the Fifth Street place, above the club.”
I took my ancient. 45 caliber service revolver out of the file. There is an exception to every rule. I hate the touch of a gun, it feels degrading, but there was a chance I was going to meet Paul Baron’s gunman, Leo Zar, again, and the old cannon would stop a buffalo if I got close enough to hit.
When we reached Fifth Street, the club was doing business. The apartment entrance next to it was dark. Sammy pointed to a bell with no identification. I did not want to give Paul Baron that much warning. The inner door was old and had play on the buzzer-lock. I leaned on the door and gave a sharp kick. The lock sprung. I sent Weiss up ahead of me. He stepped as lightly as a cloud. Clear and present danger takes precedence over unfocused fear.
On the third floor I listened at the rear apartment door. I heard nothing. The lock was a common spring type, but picking is slow work. The door and frame were old and warped. I drew my cannon, motioned Weiss back against the corridor wall, and aimed my left foot for a hard kick just below the lock.
The door crashed open, and I jumped inside with my gun ready. You can feel emptiness. There was no one home. I put on the overhead light and called Weiss in. He came with those big eyes rolling in his sweating face. He stood in the exact center of the room as if he were afraid to be touched by anything.
“You’re sure this is the place?” I asked him. Because the room was a surprise-it was a warm, comfortable room. The furniture was old, but it had been carefully cared-for as if by a woman.
“Sure I’m sure, Danny. We had a drink at that table.”
“Did Baron live here with a woman?”
“There was a girl here when he paid me.”
“Misty Dawn?”
“Nah, a young kid. Carla he called her.”
Carla Devine, Paul Baron’s other alibi witness. I felt even better. Then I went into the bedroom and switched on the light and didn’t feel good anymore.
Paul Baron was on his back on the floor. The blood around him was brown and dry. There were two holes in his shirt. He seemed flat, and his flesh had shrunk into a leering grimace and a quarter-inch growth of beard. His left arm was flung out, and his right arm was twisted under his back in a position that would have been agony if he had been alive. I rolled him over gingerly. He was stiff as steel and moved all in a piece. The hand under his back held a wicked five-inch switchblade. He had not gone gentle, but he had gone. I let the body fall back and looked under the bed.
In the living room there was a strangled groan, and feet running, stumbling away.
I ran out into the living room. Weiss was clawing at the broken door. I reached him just as he got it open. I got a neckhold on him and dragged him back. We went down, and I lost my grip. I cursed my missing arm. Sammy crawled to his feet. I made it up and jumped to block the door. I’ve never seen a cornered animal, but now I know what one looks like. He came at me like a man turned into a rhinoceros. I hauled out my heavy revolver.