MacAlmon said: “How would you like to make twenty-five more?” He inclined his head towards the money on the table.
“This is enough.” Kells shook his head. “All I want is a fair price for the time I’ve put in. This is it.”
MacAlmon leaned back in the chair. “The stuff that’s being delivered here this afternoon is worth exactly twice what’s being paid for it, to me — my people,” he said. “I don’t care who gets the money — if you’ll hold off until the transfer has been made and the stuff is in my possession, I’ll give you a twenty-five grand bonus.”
Kells said: “No.”
Someone knocked at the door.
Borg pressed his lips together and let his eyelids droop, shook his head sadly. He held the blunt black revolver loosely in his hand and looked at Kells.
Kells framed the word, “Faber,” with his lips. Borg kept on shaking his head. Kells took the Luger out of his belt and crossed the room and stood close to the wall; he nodded slightly to Borg.
Crotti and two other men came in. One of the men was carrying a big pigskin kitbag; one carried two. Crotti looked at MacAlmon and then he turned his head and looked at Borg. He hadn’t seen Kells. The man with one bag put it down on the floor, straightened. Borg closed the door.
Kells said: “Hello.”
The man who had been carrying one bag took one step sidewise towards Borg. At the same time he jerked an automatic out of a shoulder holster, sank to one knee and swung the automatic up toward Borg. Borg’s gun roared twice.
Crotti had taken two or three steps forward. His head was turned towards Kells and his black wide-set eyes were big, his thick red mouth hung a little open.
The man with two bags still stood just inside the door. His small face was entirely expressionless; he bent his knees slowly and put down the bags. The other man looked up at Borg and his face was soft and childlike and surprised; then he toppled over on his side.
MacAlmon was standing up.
Kells moved toward Crotti.
Borg was standing, staring at Crotti, and his revolver was focused on Crotti, and then he moved suddenly forward, very swiftly for a fat man, and took the revolver barrel in his left hand and swung the gun back and brought it down hard on the back of Crotti’s head. Crotti was still looking at Kells. His eyes went dull and he fell down very hard.
The man with two bags had turned and put his hand on the doorknob. Kells said, “Hey,” and the man turned and stood with his back against the door.
Kells went to the door swiftly and reached past the man and turned the key in the lock and took it out and put it in his pocket. He went back to the table and put down the Luger, scooped the money up and stuffed it into his pockets. He glanced at MacAlmon, indicated the three kitbags with his eyes.
“Now you’ve got it. What are you going to do with it?”
MacAlmon was staring down at Crotti. Borg was watching the man at the door.
Kells said: “We’re off.”
Borg went to the man at the door and patted his pockets, felt under his arms.
They went out through the kitchen, out through the service entrance into the hall. They heard someone pounding at the front door as they went out. They went down the hall, down the back stairs and out a side door to a small patio. At the street side of the patio, Borg stood on a bench and looked over the wall. He shook his head and stepped down and said: “The son of a bitch is gone.”
Kells said: “Maybe we can get through to the next street.”
They went to the other end of the patio and through a gate to a kind of alleyway that led down to Fountain. They went down the alleyway and turned west on Fountain. They went into a drugstore on the corner and Kells drank a Coca-Cola while Borg called a cab.
While they were waiting for the cab, Kells bought some aspirin, swallowed two tablets.
Borg said: “That’s just a habit. That junk don’t do you no good.”
Kells nodded absently.
In a little while the cab came along.
Kells and Granquist and Beery and Borg sat in Kells’ room at the Lancaster.
“Here’s the laugh of the season...” Beery tilted his chair back against the wall. “The apartment at the Miramar was in Fenner’s name. We had the maid service cut out — none of the help ever saw you there...”
Kells finished his drink, put the glass on a table.
Beery went on like a headline: “Fenner is being sought for questioning in connection with the Woodward murder.”
Borg chuckled.
“And, of course, there’s an indictment out for him for Bellmann’s shooting on the strength of the confession they found on Woodward.” Beery tilted his chair forward, reached for his glass. “The Woodward one is now being blurbed as ‘The Through the Window Murder.’”
Kells asked: “Who found the body?”
“Some glass from the window fell down into the driveway and somebody went up to find out who was carrying on.”
Granquist said: “There must be something there they can trace to us.” She didn’t look very happy. She tipped her glass.
Kells glanced at her, grinned at Beery. “Miss Pollyanna G will now recite—”
She interrupted him: “Let’s go, Gerry — please...” She stood up.
Kells said: “Buy us all a drink, baby.”
He spoke to Beery: “Of course they can reach us. Woodward must have had someone standing by to go into the marked money act — I’d swear those bills are marked.” He got up and went towards the desk and said over his shoulder, “They can trace us through Doc Janis — or telephone calls — or something.”
Beery shook his head. “They’ll be tickled to death to hang the whole thing on Fenner.”
“Do you think they’ll be so tickled they’ll drop the case against me entirely?” Granquist turned from the table, came towards them with three tall glasses between her hands.
Kells said: “Shep and I will find out about that in about a half hour.”
“And we’ll find out what happened at MacAlmon’s after you left.” Beery stood up and took his drink from Granquist.
There was a knock at the door.
Granquist froze, with a glass held out towards Borg. Beery opened the door and a porter came in.
He smiled, nodded to Kells. “You want your luggage to go down, sir?”
Kells said: “Yes. The trunk’s to go on the Chief tomorrow night. Put the other stuff where we can load it into a car.”
The porter said: “Yes, sir.” He tilted the trunk and dragged it out through the door. Beery went back and sat down.
Borg had taken his drink from Granquist. He said: “What I want to know is how the hell am I going to get my automobile.”
Kells turned from the desk. “Will you please stop wailing about that wreck of yours?” he said. He held out a singly folded sheaf of bills and Borg reached up and took it.
Kells went back to his chair and sat down. He tossed another sheaf of bills in Beery’s lap.
Beery looked down at it for a moment and then he picked it up and stuck it in his pocket. He said: “Thanks, Gerry.”
Granquist gave Kells a tall glass and he tipped it to his mouth. “Stirrup cup.”
They all drank.
The porter came back into the room, loaded himself down with hand luggage, and went out.
Kells said: “We’re all in a swell spot. The baby here” — he nodded towards Granquist — “is still wanted for Bellmann’s murder — maybe. You, Shep, and I have got to go down and okay our signatures on Fenner’s confession — and maybe they’ll want to talk to me about Woodward, or what happened at MacAlmon’s. And if there’s been any squawk from MacAlmon’s they’ll be looking for Fat.” He grinned at Borg.