The girl followed his instructions, then finally attached a shipping tag to the cord. Sargent himself addressed it:
Then he carried the package around the corner to the branch post office, where he mailed it. He was whistling as he left the post office.
When he reached the Ajax Hotel, Jim Robertson was sitting on the stairs, just inside the front door.
“There you are!” he cried. “I figured you’d be home any minute. I’ve been dying all afternoon to hear the dirt and then you ran out on me.”
“Chapman chased me out,” Sargent said.
“I know; I hear — through the wall. His ex has put the screws on him and he’s bleeding. But I want to hear about Minnesota. What’d you learn there?”
“Have you had dinner? No, of course not, too early. Well, let’s grab a bite and I’ll tell you about it.”
“Swell! I haven’t a thing on tonight. We can take our time.”
“What, no date?”
“Uh-uh, it’s Friday night. Big date is tomorrow.”
They turned the corner on Halsted and entered a Hungarian restaurant where they both ordered Wiener Schnitzel. After giving their orders, Sargent brought Robertson up to date.
“You know the original setup?” he asked.
“Pretty well; I got it from Ernie. Ben was up against the wall a year ago and had to get some outside capital. Sligo came in, but insisted on a fifty-fifty partnership. You have to have at least three stockholders for a corporation and neither wanted to break the fifty-fifty rule... so they cooked up a scheme whereby each gave up one share... and issued it to an employee. Ben gave his to Ernie... rather, he put him down on the books as owning the share, but wouldn’t actually let him hold the stock.”
“And Ernie, feeling he was entitled to it, helped himself.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” said Robertson, frowning. “Ernie was a pretty decent sort, until Ben’s sledge hammer broke him down.”
“Well, let’s say he didn’t take the stock then until he’d suffered the nervous breakdown. Because he did take it. He sold it to Daniel Sligo.”
“That’s a lie!” Robertson shot out.
“Sorry, Jim. Mrs. Pelkey admitted it to me. Ernie came home with a thousand dollars, which he told her he got from Sligo.”
Robertson frowned painfully. “He did crack up, then. Well, he deserved the money — and Ben deserved it, too. So it’s the other share that Ruth Reese owns.”
“I’m not too sure. Sligo bought Ernie’s share, but if he bought it, why was he killed?”
“Eh?”
“He’d been double-crossed by the hillbilly, Hanson Hill, but now he had Ernie’s stock and had Chapman by the throat.”
“Yeah,” said Robertson thoughtfully. “But how’d Hill’s share get to Ben’s ex?”
“Didn’t you hear Ben on the telephone this afternoon? He was bleating like a stuck pig.”
“You mean when he called up Hanson Hill? Why... why, Hill told him that he’d sold that stock to Lew Thayer. I did hear Thayer’s name mentioned. Say — you suppose...?”
“I don’t know. Thayer may have sold it to Ruth Reese. On the other hand, Daniel Sligo was murdered.”
“And it wasn’t Ben? I’ve had him sized for it all along.”
“If he’s acting now, he’s the world’s greatest actor. But he may be at that. He may be doing all this crying to cover up... and tomorrow he’ll pop up with Ernie’s share of stock and everything will be all right again with Ben O. Chapman and Company.”
Robertson shook his head. “No, he’s scared. His ex gave him the fright of his life. Unless... d’you suppose Ben owes her a barrel of alimony?”
“I gathered that she walked out on him. Besides she’s remarried. Do they allow alimony if a woman remarries?”
“Sometimes they do, I’ve heard. I wouldn’t know, never having taken the plunge even once. I can’t figure it out!”
They had been eating while talking and now, finished, smoked for a few moments in silence. Then Robertson said, shaking his head:
“Suppose Ben’s ex-wife has both the missing shares of stock?”
“I thought of that,” Sargent replied. “If she has, she got one of them from the person who murdered Daniel Sligo.”
Robertson exclaimed softly, “D’you suppose a woman could have used that pair of scissors?”
“It’s possible; they were thin and very sharp. But... the woman I traced all through Minnesota never wielded that pair of shears. Unless I got the wrong picture of her. She might be fooled by a man, but she’s no murderess. If she was, she’d have killed Ben eight years ago, instead of walking out on him.”
“You said she was just a kid then. She’s older now. Bucked the world by herself. The world’s a tough place, Frank.”
“I’ve been around. Ringing doorbells is no picnic.” He laughed shortly. “Well, what now, Jim?”
Robertson shrugged. “I still think we might go out and get drunk.”
“A quiet movie would suit me better. I didn’t sleep too well on the train last night.”
“Okay; maybe we can find a double feature and both get a good nap.”
They left the restaurant and turned the corner on North Avenue. Then Robertson brushed against Sargent and said out of the corner of his mouth, “Don’t look right away, but we’re being followed. A little guy in a brown suit.”
Sargent started to inhale sharply, then remembered. He’d hired Wilting to have all the Chapman editors shadowed this evening and the detective had undoubtedly picked up Robertson at the office. But he didn’t want to tell Robertson, so he whispered back, “Is it the same detective who followed us the other day?”
“No, a new one. I noticed this one in the restaurant straining his ears to listen to us. I figured him for a buttinsky; but he’s after us. I’d like to give him a poke in the nose, just for fun.”
They stopped to look in a window and then Sargent picked out the shadow. He had likewise stopped at a window, three stores behind them. He was a small, indifferent-looking man and seemed to blend in well with the casual strollers of the avenue. Which was probably why he was a good shadow.
They started off again. “How long has this been going on?” he asked Robertson. “All week?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been looking for shadows since the other day, but this is the first time I’ve noticed one. Damn’ funny, every time I’m with you one of them pops up.”
Sargent frowned. “I lost a shadow just before I went to Duluth. I don’t know why the devil. Fanning keeps them on my trail.”
“Maybe he figures you might have seen the person who shot Pelkey.”
“I didn’t. And neither has Fanning. At least I haven’t heard of any arrests.”
They passed Larrabee Street and crossed over. The shadow followed behind them. Past Sedgwick they finally found a theater with a couple of pictures neither had seen. Sitting in the darkened orchestra, Robertson said, “When we leave here, let’s split up suddenly and see which one of us he follows.”
It was ten o’clock when they came out of the theater. The little man in the brown suit was dawdling in the lobby, pretending to be looking at the stills of next week’s bill. Jim Robertson whispered, “See you tomorrow,” then loudly, “Well, Frank, suppose we go and have a bite to eat now? There’s a good restaurant over on Clark Street and—”
They stepped out of the theater and Robertson whirled to the left, heading for Clark Street. The shadow went after Robertson.