“Sure. A blonde: well dressed. She had on a headscarf and sun goggles: around twenty-five... why?”
“Know her again?”
“Why, sure.”
“Without the head scarf and goggles?” Morphy stared at him uneasily.
“Well, no... I didn’t see much of her. What’s all this about?”
Karsh got to his feet.
“Force of habit, palsy,” he said. “When talking to me, you have to expect questions like that.” He showed his yellow teeth in what he called a smile. “Well, you know where your car is if you want it. So long,” and he walked back to his car.
He drove to a drug store and shutting himself in a sweltering telephone booth, he looked up Ann Lucas in the book. He found her number and dialled. While he waited for the Connection, he looked at his strap watch. The time was half-past nine.
There was a click and then a girl’s voice said, “Hello?”
“Miss Lucas?”
“That’s right.”
“You own a driving licence No. 559700. That right?”
“I don’t know the number, but I have lost my driving licence. Have you found it?”
“How did you lose it?”
“Someone stole my bag.”
“Did you report the loss?”
“Of course I did. I reported it to the police a couple of days ago. Who is this talking?”
“Did you hire a U-Drive car a couple of nights ago?”
“Why, no. Who is this... is it the police?”
“Could be,” Karsh said. “Could be anyone,” and he hung up. He left the booth and drove fast to the office.
Homer Hare was unwrapping a large parcel containing thickly cut beef sandwiches.
“Just what I was hoping to find,” Karsh said, scooping up two of the sandwiches. These he carried with him to a chair opposite Hare’s desk. Hare sighed and looked at Lucille. “Tell the boy to bring some more and another carton of coffee.”
Karsh ate hungrily. When he had wolfed the sandwiches he looked expectantly at the pile before Hare, but Hare covered them with his arm. “You wait... these are mine.” Karsh made a grab for the carton of coffee, but Hare was too quick for him.
“Mine too,” Hare said shoving Karsh’s hand away.
“What a hog!” Karsh said bitterly. “While I’m earning the money, you just sit here and stuff your cave.”
Lucille came in with more sandwiches and a carton of coffee. As soon as Karsh started eating again, he said, his mouth full, “Is this Burnett really a nut?”
“No doubt about it,” Hare said, his mouth equally full. “He got into a car smash a couple of years ago and he’s been a scrambled brain ever since.”
Karsh poured coffee, finished his sandwich, then recited the events of the afternoon and evening. Long before he had finished, Hare had stopped eating and was listening intently, his little eyes glazed with concentration.
“Looks for sure this nut killed the woman,” Karsh said. “His lighter was on the bed and his jacket covered with blood. This is going to make Terrell look as high as an ant.”
“The car puzzles me,” Hare said, lifting the last of the sandwiches from the wrapping. “Who was the woman who hired the car? You don’t think it was Ann Lucas?”
“No, but we can check. I think some woman stole her bag and used her licence to hire this car? Why? How did Burnett’s coat get into the car? You know with what we’ve got, we could put the bite on Joan Parnell for a lot more than a thousand bucks.”
“We’re wasting time,” Lucille broke in. “Terrell won’t like this delay. Sam should have gone straight to headquarters, reported finding the car, the lighter and the jacket.”
“I was going to do just that,” Karsh said irritably, “but Big-Brain here said not.” He looked at Hare. “You want to go to headquarters in person, is that the idea?”
Hare licked his great, thick fingers, peered into the wrapping to make sure he hadn’t left anything he could eat, then regretfully screwed up the paper and dropped it into his trash basket. He then lit a cigar and blew smoke up to the ceiling.
“No, that’s not the idea, Sammy,” he said. “I’ve been giving this affair considerable thought. Handled properly it could be very, very profitable.”
“I heard you the first time,” Karsh said, staring at him. “So we up the price to the Parnell woman: what would she stand for?”
“We don’t do that,” Hare said. Absently, he reached for Karsh’s last sandwich, but Karsh was too quick for him. “I didn’t think you wanted it,” Hare said in a hurt voice.
“I do... keep talking.”
Hare sighed and folded his hands over his enormous stomach.
“Tomorrow morning, Lucille will take the five-hundred dollars the Parnell woman paid us and she’ll call on her. She’ll tell her we can’t take the assignment. She’ll explain that I have talked to Terrell and he is against a private agency moving in on a murder case. Lucille will then give her back the money and duck out.”
Karsh stared at Hare as if he thought he had gone out of his mind.
“He’s been eating too much,” he said to his wife. “His brains are clogged with food.”
Lucille said, “From where then do we make our very interesting profit?”
Hare smiled at her.
“From Valerie Burnett... who else?”
Karsh sat bolt upright in his chair. His ferrety face became tense.
“Now, wait a minute...”
Hare stopped him by raising his big doughy hand.
“This is the chance of a lifetime, Sammy. The Burnetts have money, and Travers is worth millions. Do you imagine he would want his son-in-law to stand trial for murder? Do you imagine Travers would allow his son-in-law to spend the rest of his days in a Criminal Asylum?”
Karsh shifted uneasily.
“While we are asking questions,” he said, “have you ever heard of a little word called ‘blackmail’? Have you any idea what kind of rap blackmail draws?”
“Have you ever heard of half a million dollars?” Hare said, hunching his massive shoulders and staring at Karsh. “Travers will jump at the chance of buying the lighter and the jacket for half a million. You see...I’ll handle it. You leave this to me.”
“Not me.” Karsh got to his feet. “Oh no. I’m getting along pretty well as I am. I’m not going to be locked up in a cell for fourteen years just to please you.”
“You won’t be pleasing me,” Hare said quietly. “You will be on the receiving end of half a million dollars.”
Karsh started for the door, paused, then came slowly back to his chair.
“You really think you can swing it?”
“I know I can. Think about it, Sammy. So far the cops haven’t an idea it is Burnett. With the evidence we have got, he hasn’t got a prayer. He’ll be put away in a squirrel house for life. Travers would pay more than half a million dollars to avoid that. You leave it to me, Sammy. You’ve done your share, now I’ll do mine, and we split the take.”
“Don’t I get in on the split?” Lucille asked, her thin face ugly with greed.
Karsh glared at her.
“You’re my wife... remember?”
“It’ll be split three ways,” Lucille said, “or it doesn’t get split at all.”
The two men stared at her, then Hare, who knew his daughter, said with a resigned sigh, “So it’ll be split three ways.”
Chapter Five
Lee Hardy slowed his Cadillac when he came in sight of the entrance to the Park Motel. Pulling into a lay-by, he stopped the car.
“Okay, boys, stick around, but keep out of sight,” he said. “I may not need you, but it’s my guess I will.”
Jacko Smith belched gently as he heaved his gross body out of the car. Moe Lincoln, smelling of a new perfume Jacko had given him, slid out after him.
“Enjoy the moon,” Hardy said. “You don’t do a thing until I give you the nod.”