"We ought to talk to Ondrey," he decided. "After all, he's a good guy.
Come on, Roy, we'll go to his office."
PARRINGTON agreed that the protest would be in order. They reached the office, found Slick with Ondrey. Bugs shook hands with Slick; introduced him to
Parrington as Bill Quaine.
"A good guy," voiced Bugs, "even if he is a dick." Then, to Ondrey: "Say
-
wait'll you see the way one of your cluck waiters messed us up."
Bugs took off his coat to show his soaked tuxedo jacket. Parrington did the same; Bugs planked both overcoats upon the table. There was a clank when Parrington's pocket hit the woodwork.
Turning at the sound, the fake dick took the cue.
"What's that?" snapped Slick. "That your coat, Parrington? Let's see what you got in the pockets."
Uneasily, Parrington lifted the coat, pulled out the bundle and laid it with his hat. That done, he fished out gloves and cigarettes. Finally, his fingers found the revolver. Parrington didn't realize that it was a gun, until he brought it into the light. Slick snatched the weapon from Parrington's fingers. While the man was gasping, Slick demanded:
"What's the idea of carrying the gun? Where's your permit?"
Parrington tried to protest. He failed.
He said he didn't know the gun was in pocket; that was all, and it sounded
pitifully weak. Even Bugs looked reproachful, especially when Slick cracked the
revolver and found it loaded.
"Better see what's in the bundle," suggested Bugs. "Maybe it will give us one on the guy."
The bundle was filled with currency; bills totaled five thousand dollars.
Slick wanted to know where the money had come from.
"I'm a promoter," panted Parrington, "This was for - well, I'd arranged an
advertising campaign, and was -"
"And you flimflammed somebody out of the dough?"
"No, no! - well, this was a commission - I -"
"In cash? Sounds phony to me, Parrington." Slick shoved the money to the far, side of the desk, along with the gun. "Tell us some more about the dough."
Parrington confessed that the cash was tainted. It was a cut that he had received for swinging a national advertiser to a wildcat agency. Becoming bolder, he suddenly declared:
"But you can't prove anything because of that!"
"We can prove plenty with this gun," interposed Slick. "Enough to put you in the cooler for a long stretch. Come along! We're going down to headquarters."
Parrington wilted. His head in his hands, he was moaning incoherently when
Bugs motioned to Slick, signaling that the bluff had gone far enough.
Slick was mightily relieved when Bugs took over the burden; for even yet, the fake detective hadn't decided what Bugs was going to do next.
"Why don't you give the guy a break?" demanded Bugs. "His overcoat was out
in the cloakroom; maybe somebody planted the rod in his pocket. Go on out there,
Quaine, and ask the cloakroom doll about it."
Slick agreed that he would do so. He started to pick up the planted gun, remarking that it was evidence.
"Leave it here," suggested Bugs. "Let Ondrey lock it in that desk drawer.
We'll look out for Parrington while you're gone."
THE REVOLVER was put away; Slick left the office but he didn't go to the cloakroom, because that would be of no use. Slick knew well enough how the gun had come into Parrington's pocket.
What Slick didn't know was what he escaped by staying away from the cloakroom. At that very moment; a young man was checking hat and coat there.
He
was Harry Vincent, one of the keenest of The Shadow's agents.
If Harry had seen Slick come to the cloakroom, he would have promptly sensed that something was up. But Slick didn't even leave the passage outside of Ondrey's office.
Meanwhile, in the office itself, Claude Ondrey was sweating more than ever. Of all the screwy games he'd ever met with, this one was the worst. What did Bugs mean by passing the buck right back to him? Of course, Slick wouldn't come back with evidence that Ondrey had planted the gun; but Ondrey was beginning to believe that Bugs might be crazy enough to shout that out, himself.
Maybe Bugs was really as goofy as he sometimes looked.
In the midst of Ondrey's quandary, Bugs suddenly provided the reason behind his stunt.
"Listen Parrington," spoke Bugs quickly. "I'm for you - see? I got a way to snatch you out of this mess. Ondrey, here, is a good guy. He'll help."
Parrington looked up, weakly hopeful.
"Unlock the desk drawer," Bugs told Ondrey. "Make it fast, before Quaine gets back here."
Ondrey obeyed. He was in a mood for anything that would end this crazy set-up. As soon as the drawer was open, Bugs grabbed the revolver that lay within. Pocketing it, he picked up Parrington's five thousand dollars and planked the money in the drawer.
"Quaine won't find the gun when he looks for it," stated Bugs, with a grin. "He'll find the dough, instead. I'll look dumb, and so will Ondrey, here.
How about it, Ondrey?"
Ondrey nodded. He didn't like the looks of things, but he couldn't find his voice.
"So Quaine will forget the gun," added Bugs, "and take the mazuma instead.
That's fair enough, ain't it? You can make up that five grand easy, Roy, but you
can't laugh off a stretch in the big house."
Parrington's eyes narrowed. He was becoming suspicious; but he was still worried enough so to be handled. Bugs nudged to the wall panel.
"Bring down the elevator," ordered Ondrey. "Get Roy out of here before Quaine comes back."
ONDREY obeyed reluctantly. Bugs told Parrington how to make his exit through the house next door. Sight of the open elevator made Parrington suddenly eager for flight. Half a minute later, he was on his way.
Bugs gave a raucous chuckle after the panel had closed; but Ondrey didn't join with him.
The harsh mirth was heard by Slick, in the passage. Slick came back into the office, looked about, perplexed, when he failed to see Parrington. Bugs yanked open the desk drawer, told Slick to take a look.
"How's that for a neat shakedown, Slick?" he asked. "Say - you should have
seen the sap fall for the finish of it!" Then, to Ondrey, Bugs added:
"Stick that five grand in the safe, along with the dough you're keeping for Pinkey. It's five thousand more in the pot."
There was an incredulous snarl from Slick.
"So that was your racket!" uttered Slick. "You're not smart, Bugs; you're dumb!"
"Me dumb?" rejoined Bugs. "When I picked up five grand that easy?"
"I said you're dumb," repeated Slick. "You've wasted time here, when you're supposed to head for Bron's office. What about that letter you were to get from Parrington?"
With a grin, Bugs pulled the letter from his pocket.
"Right here," he said. "I'm starting for Bron's now. Give me fifteen minutes start, Slick, and you'll get there just when you'll be needed."
Bugs pulled the switch to bring down the elevator. The letter was the last
thing the two saw, when the panel went shut.
Ondrey flopped behind the desk, mopping his bald head.
"Bugs had me nuts!" he panted. "I'm glad that's over."
Slick Thurley didn't reply. His eyes had a hard gaze; his lips were set.
He was thinking that Bugs Hopton had tossed a boomerang by trying that shake-down on Roy Parrington.
Slick's hunch was right. Matters were to take a trend that crooks wouldn't
like. But there was one element that Slick didn't include in his calculation; that was the part that chance was to play.
Lady Luck was already riding along with crime.
CHAPTER XII
CHANGED TRAILS
THE SHADOW'S first inkling that something had gone wrong came when the lights went blank in Bron's office. That was curious, since Bron was supposed to be here until midnight. It couldn't mean that plotters were on the move, because there was only one entrance to the office building and Bugs Hopton hadn't arrived to use it. Furthermore, another incident furnished The Shadow with proof that crime's plans had been balked. Half a minute after Bron's lights were out, the side office went dark. Pinkey Findlen had evidently learned that Bron had gone out of the building.