Finally the door buzzer sounded. Jacqueline rose, went to the door and ushered in my partner, Jud Harrison.
Chapter 5
Just as I had, Jud gaped at the other occupants of the apartment in surprise, but his surprise seemed genuine. A sick feeling grew inside of me as I realized something that I suppose, in a way, I’d known unconsciously all along — that Jud’s five hundred dollars had not come from a horse bet.
“Is this your Maurine Hahn from the Statler?” I asked him cynically, nodding at Jacqueline.
His eyes flicked at the blonde, then back to me. “Yeah. What the devil you doing here, Sam?”
“The same thing you are, sucker. Only the name she gave me was Jacqueline Crosby and her supposed sister’s name was Minnie Joy. I suppose she told you that other hustler you got off in court the other day was her sister.”
Cartelli broke up further conversation by ordering Jud to stand against the wall next to me.
“I don’t want any violence, gentlemen,” he said. “As soon as you’ve listened to a couple of recordings and heard what I have to say, I’ll order my men to put up their guns. By that time I think you will have sufficiently come around to my point of view so that they won’t be necessary. Meantime I prefer to prevent argument by keeping you under control.”
Crossing to a small table containing a phonograph, Cartelli switched the machine on.
For a few seconds there was only a dull scratching sound, then what was unmistakably my voice said, “About your sister.”
“Minnie Joy?” Jacqueline’s voice said. “Will you really help her, Sam?”
Relentlessly the record continued to reel off the conversation which had taken place between me and the blonde in her hotel suite until it reached the point where Jacqueline said, “No, Sam. It’s worth it to me. And you will be taking a risk, won’t you? I mean giving false testimony. You ought to have something for that. Take this five hundred. I can afford it.”
Then Cartelli shut it off. Replacing the record with another, he turned on the machine again. This one played an almost identical scene, except that Jud’s voice was substituted for mine and the case the blonde was bribing him to fix involved a woman named Jean Darling instead of Minnie Joy.
When Monk Cartelli shut off the second record, there was a long silence in the room.
I broke it by asking without emotion, “How many other cops have you suckered into this deal?”
“No cops,” the syndicate organizer said smugly. “We netted a young assistant in the circuit attorney’s office, though, plus a young fellow in the coroner’s office. We aren’t rushing things. We’re just lining up a few people at a time.”
Next to me Jud said worriedly, “What is this deal, Sam?”
“We’ve been set up,” I told him in a cold voice. “I guess we both thought we were making an easy and safe five hundred. But it was a trap. Those records mailed to the police commissioner not only would get us bounced off the force, they’d land us in jail. The chief thought the syndicate might be feeling around to see who’d be susceptible to bribery, but apparently plans were a little more definite than that. Cartelli here is lining up cops and other officials in strategic spots who will have to take orders from the syndicate. We’re hooked, Jud. We might as well face it.”
Jud’s face was sweating. “Listen,” he said, “just because I agreed to get this blonde’s sister off the hook for a fee doesn’t mean I’m willing to play along with the syndicate.”
“Rather go to jail?” Cartelli asked idly.
Jud stared at him. The bitterness grew in me almost unbearably when I saw his face begin to go to pieces.
“What do you want of us?” I asked Cartelli harshly.
“Just your unquestioning future cooperation, for which you’ll be paid more than you ever earned before.”
“Why us?” I demanded. “We’re just a couple of unimportant cops. Why didn’t you pick on a few division heads?”
“We plan on both you men being division heads before we’re through, Sergeant. We’re just beginning to organize. When we have helped into office the officials we want, we’ll be in a position to dictate appointments and promotions in the police department. We plan long in advance, and we may not reach that point for several years. But when we do, we want men we know will cooperate. Both of you have everything to gain by being picked by the syndicate. A few years from now one of you will head the morality squad and the other will probably head one of the other squads. And what we pay you on the side will make your salaries look like peanuts.”
Jud’s expression gradually grew calmer as the syndicate organizer spoke. When Cartelli stopped, Jud looked at me questioningly, and the mixture of thoughtfulness and cupidity in his eyes made me even sicker than his panic a while before.
“You might as well tell your men to put their guns up,” I told Cartelli wearily.
Monk looked from me to Jud in an estimating way, then nodded to the two hoods, who obediently thrust their guns under their arms.
“I guess we’ll have to go along, won’t we, Sam?” Jud asked. “I mean, we haven’t much choice, have we?”
“You haven’t,” I told him. “But I happen to be a plant. The department knows all about the bribe I took.”
As I spoke I flashed my hand to my hip and came up with a cocked Detective Special.
“You’re all under arrest,” I said in a brittle voice.
Jud gaped at me. “You... you’re a department plant, Sam? But... but how about me?”
“You should have thought of that before you took a bribe, Jud.”
I said gently, “Get their guns.”
“Listen,” he said. “You’re not going to turn me in, are you?”
“You took an oath when you became a cop,” I told him. “The minute you violated that oath, you stopped being my friend and became a crooked cop. I’m sorry, Jud, but you’re going in too.”
His hand stole toward his hip.
“Hold it,” I advised him, shifting my gun in his direction.
With my attention momentarily on Jud, the two hoods decided to make a break. As their hands streaked toward their armpits, I started to swing back toward them.
Jud’s shoulder caught me in the hip and sent me sprawling.
All hell broke loose.
Both gunmen’s .45’s roared simultaneously and plaster spewed from the wall. I took my time with two shots and knocked the squat man back to the couch with my first. The second caught the taller gunman in the forehead and he dropped like a stone.
Monk Cartelli had crouched behind an overstuffed chair, and now a shot crashed from that direction. Jud, still on his feet, slammed back against the wall, slid to the floor and from a seated position sent five slugs at the chair. Cartelli jerked erect and pitched over on his back.
Slowly I climbed to my feet and surveyed the damage.
Both gunmen and Cartelli were dead. The blonde cowered in a corner, unharmed but green with fright. Ordering her to stay there, I looked at Jud.
He had taken Cartelli’s single shot squarely in the chest. He was done and he knew it. Even as I watched, blood began to dribble from the corner of his mouth.
“Sam,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Sam.” Then with an effort, “The record...”
Crossing to the phonograph, I lifted the record which proved my partner a dishonest cop, broke it in my hands into a dozen pieces and tossed the pieces out the third-floor window into the street.
“You can go out clean, Jud,” I said.
He was dead before I finished the sentence.