Sam left the room and Johnny threw himself down on the bed. He sighed wearily and closed his eyes. Knuckles massaged the door.
“For the love of Mike!” Johnny groaned.
The door opened and Catch ’Em Alive Mulligan came in. “Hello, Fletcher,” he said, cheerfully. “Like you to meet a friend of mine. Ed Wright.”
He stepped aside and a lean, sharp-faced man of about forty came into the room. “How are you, Fletcher,” Wright said.
“D.A.’s office,” Mulligan offered, laconically.
Johnny sat up on the bed. “Is this a pinch?”
“Oh no,” said Wright. “Mulligan happened to be in my office and mentioned that he was coming out to see you, so I thought I’d come along.”
“About that wire tapping,” said Mulligan, “I didn’t ask Cobb what he found out, because he was on a job and he wouldn’t have told me, without I got a little rough — and I didn’t want to get rough with him.”
“No,” said Johnny, “no use spoiling an old friendship, is there?”
“That’s what I thought.”
“About Langford, Mr. Fletcher,” said Wright. “I understand he and your friend had a... a brawl, shall we call it?”
“Go ahead, call it a brawl. He sassed Sam and Sam slapped him down. Which served Langford right.”
“I hear he gave you a workout earlier in the day,” remarked Mulligan.
Before Johnny could reply, the phone rang. Johnny scooped it up. “Yes?”
It was Walter Cobb. “Mr. Fletcher, Beeler just phoned. He tells me that Harry Bloss was Jane Bloss’ uncle. Also that Bloss is well known in Chicago. He was arrested there four times in three years, as an employee of gambling houses. This was prior to five years ago. No record of him in Chicago during the last five years.”
“That’s fine,” Johnny said into the phone. “Now, can you give me a price on a more recent model?”
“I get it,” exclaimed Cobb, “somebody’s with you. Mulligan?”
“That’s right.”
“Okay, then I’ll just give you the rest of it, briefly. The Halton lead Beeler had petered out. It’s a different party altogether. I’ll call you again — or would you rather call me?”
“I’ll give you a ring later — after I decide which model I want. Goodbye...”
He hung up and smiled at Mulligan and Wright. “The old jalopy ain’t what she used to be.”
“Getting a new car?” Mulligan asked.
“A later model.”
Mulligan nodded. He came to the bed. “Mind if I make a call?”
“Help yourself.”
Mulligan picked up the phone. “Police headquarters, operator,” he said. Then — “Ned? Mulligan... That’s right... Fine... Stay with it...”
He hung up. “About that wire tapping business, Fletcher. It works two ways, you know.”
“Eh?”
“Your line can be tapped, too.”
Johnny swallowed hard. “Is it?”
Mulligan nodded. “That was Walter Cobb who telephoned you. He told you that Beeler had called and that Harry Bloss was Jane Bloss’ uncle. Also that he was arrested four times in three years...”
“...and the Halton lead petered out,” Johnny finished.
“So now we understand each other, eh, Fletcher?”
“I guess so,” said Johnny morosely.
“And we can sit down and talk things over quietly? What did Cobb pick up on Langford’s phone?”
“Langford and Carl Shinn between them made three calls; one to a man named Larry Piper at the H-C Ranch, warning him to watch his step...”
“I’ll just make a note of that name,” Mulligan took out a notebook and pencil. “And to who were the other calls?”
“One was to the El Casa Rancho Hotel — Room 24...”
“That’s this room?”
“Yes. I didn’t answer because I wasn’t here.”
“Cragg?”
“—Was showing his muscles to some women at the pool. The third call was to Mark Morrison, an attorney. Langford threatened to come into court when Mrs. Langford’s case comes up claiming that she had violated the terms of her legal residence in the state...”
“Were there any other calls?” Wright interposed.
“There were three incoming calls — all mysterious.”
“What do you mean — mysterious?”
“I made the calls. To get them worried so they’d call their friends.”
“What friends?” Mulligan asked.
“That’s what I hoped to find out. I flushed out one of them, Piper, who seems to be connected with the H-C Ranch.”
Mulligan frowned. “That’s out in the county — out of my jurisdiction...”
“But not mine,” said Wright, cheerfully. “I think I’ll ride out there — with the sheriff.” He looked significantly at Mulligan and inclined his head slightly in Johnny’s direction. “What do you think, Mulligan?”
“About Fletcher?” Then, as Wright nodded, “I think we’ve got about enough.”
“Don’t mind me, fellows,” Johnny cut in, sourly.
Wright didn’t even look at Johnny. “That wire tapping alone ought to be good for six months...”
“And impeding justice should add another six.”
“All right, Mulligan, I’ll issue the warrant...”
“In the morning will be all right, Ed...” Mulligan finally looked at Johnny. “I mean it, Fletcher. I’ll be here with the warrant at nine o’clock in the morning.”
“In other words, you’re running me out of town.”
“No-no — I’m just telling you that I’ll be here in the morning with a warrant...”
“Okay, okay,” said Johnny. “You don’t have to drop a stone wall on me...” The phone rang and he scooped it up, automatically. “Yes?”
A gruff voice said, “This is police headquarters. Does Detective Mulligan happen to be there?”
“Yes. Just a moment.” He extended the phone to Mulligan. “For you...”
Mulligan took the phone. “Mulligan talking...” Then surprise spread across his features. “I’ll be right over!” He slammed the receiver back on the hook. “Come on, Ed. You, too, Fletcher...”
“What’s up?” asked Wright.
“A shooting.” Mulligan watched Fletcher closely. “A man named Langford. Jim Langford...!”
Chapter Nineteen
Three police cars were already parked before 1428 Bonneville, when Catch ’Em Alive Mulligan stopped his car at the curb. Wright, Mulligan and Johnny Fletcher got out.
A couple of uniformed policemen were outside the door of the little cottage. “A sweet job,” one of them commented to Mulligan.
Inside the house were a half dozen policemen and officials. Most of them were in a tiny living room. It was furnished with a day bed, a rough table and three or four chairs. On the floor was the dead body of Jim Langford. He was quite a mess.
A man wearing a leather jacket nodded to Mulligan. “Your wife heard the shooting, Mike.”
“Quite a lot of it, wasn’t there?” said Mulligan, his eyes on the body.
“He’s got four bullets in him and two are in the wall,” replied the man in the leather jacket. Then he saw Johnny Fletcher and looked inquiringly at Mulligan.
“His name’s Fletcher,” said Mulligan. “He knows something about this.”
“Oh?”
Mulligan nodded to the leather-jacketed man. “The chief.”
The chief sized up Johnny. “What do you know about him?”
“His name was Jim Langford,” Johnny replied. “The Chicago police will probably send you a vote of thanks.”
Mulligan said, quickly, “Could I see you a minute, Chief?”
The chief hesitated, still looking at Johnny Fletcher, then he shrugged and led Mulligan into another room. Johnny watched them leave, then stepped gingerly around the body of Jim Langford. There was a burlap sack standing beside the couch. It seemed to be about half filled with some bulky objects, but the top flap of the sack was concealing the contents.