She was still pacing the floor, thinking, working herself into a more and more determined frame of mind when the moon faded in the lightening sky and the red rim of the sun began its slow ascent.
Chapter Nine
Max Jacobs watched Val walk into the Florida Banking Corporation. The rime was ten minutes past ten. He had been sitting in his car, waiting patiently since nine o’clock. He lit a cigarette and continued to watch and wait. At half past ten, Val came out of the bank. She was carrying a small brown paper parcel. As she looked up and down the street, Jacobs started the engine. A moment later a taxi drew up at Val’s signal and she got into it.
As the cab drew away from the kerb, Jacobs eased his car out of the parking bay and went after it. After a five minute drive, the cab pulled up outside a shabby office block and Val got out.
Jacobs hurriedly parked as Val, paying off the driver, walked into the building. Jacobs risked getting run over as he dodged through the traffic and entered the dark lobby of the building. The elevator was in motion and he started up the stairs, watching the slow crawl of the elevator and seeing it stop on the third floor. He raced to the third floor and arrived, panting. The long corridor with its frosted glass doors was deserted. He leaned against the banister rail, sure that Val had entered one of these offices, and waited.
As Val walked into the outer office of Hare’s Investigating Agency, Lucille looked up from her typewriter.
“I have an appointment with Mr. Hare,” Val said quietly.
Lucille recognised her. She got to her feet.
“I think he is ready to see you,” she said. “Just a moment,” and she went into Homer Hare’s office, shutting the door.
Hare was nibbling at a bar of chocolate. Sam Karsh stood by the window, smoking. Both men were slightly tense.
“She’s here,” Lucille said.
The two men looked at each other, then Karsh said, “Are you really going to take her money? Once you take it, we’re way out on a limb.”
Hare put the chocolate bar reluctantly into his desk drawer.
“Shoo her in,” he said to Lucille, then to Karsh, “Run away, Sammy. I’m handling this.”
Karsh hesitated, then shrugging; he went out of the office by the door that led into the corridor.
Lucille said, “I hope you know what you’re doing. I still don’t like, it.”
Her father grinned as he wiped his sticky fingers on his handkerchief.
“But you will. Shoo her in.”
Jacobs, watching, had just time to step back out of sight around the bend of the corridor as Karsh appeared. He waited. Karsh stood in the corridor, then moving silently, he entered the outer office as Val walked into Hare’s office.
Fifteen minutes later, Val came out of the office and crossed to the elevator. Jacobs saw she no longer was carrying the brown paper parcel. He remained where he was until the elevator sank out of sight. Then moving fast, he ran down the stairs, and was in time to see Val leaving the building, walking quickly and heading downtown. He hesitated for a brief moment, then seeing a Drug Store close by, he entered and shut himself in a telephone booth. A minute later, he was talking to Terrell.
“Mrs. Burnett took the money to Homer Hare’s Agency,” he reported. “She’s just left. She was carrying the money done up in a sealed brown paper parcel. She left without it.”
This news startled Terrell.
“Homer Hare?” he exclaimed. “You’re sure she left the money with him?”
“I’m sure,” Jacobs said.
“Okay. Now look, Max, this is important. Get back to the entrance of the office block and stay there. If you see either Hare, Karsh or his wife leave with the money, pick them up. Tell them I want to talk to them. Get tough. Don’t let them get rid of the money. Understand?”
“I’ll handle it, Chief,” Jacobs said and hung up.
Sam Karsh and Lucille came into Hare’s office as he tore open the brown paper parcel. Hare was smiling. The sight of the hundred dollar bills as they spilt over the desk made Karsh whistle.
“Wow! That looks good,” he said and came dose to the desk. “That looks like real money!”
Hare dug his fingers into the mass of bills, lifted them and let them flutter back on to the desk.
“Sammy... we’re rich! In two weeks time, the little lady is going to hand over the rest... we’ll be worth half a million!”
Lucille said, “Stop acting like a miser! What are we going to do with this right now?”
Hare looked sharply at her.
“What’s the matter? You getting an attack of nerves or something?”
“You’re goddamn right I’m getting an attack of nerves! Suppose the cops walked in now, how would you explain away this amount of money?”
Hare looked towards Karsh. He smiled his evil smile.
“You married a bright girl, Sammy.” He opened a drawer in his desk and took out a battered brief-case. Quickly he scooped the money into the case, clipped the case shut and then pushed it across the desk towards Karsh. “Get moving, Sammy. Rent a safe at the Miami Safe Deposit. Use any name that comes to your fertile mind so long as it isn’t one of ours and get moving. The quicker this is salted away, the safer it will be for us.”
Karsh shied away from the case.
“Not me! Lucille can take it. Suppose some cop stops me on the street? I’m not all that crazy!”
“Take it!” There was a rasp in Hare’s voice. “If you want your cut, you work for it!”
Karsh eyed the brief-case, then he looked at his wife who stared blankly at him. He got no encouragement from her, and finally, he picked up the case.
“If I walk into trouble,” he said to Hare, “I’ll sing like a lark.”
“Go ahead and sing,” Hare said. “It’ll be the last Prima Donna act you’ll ever put on!”
Karsh suddenly grinned.
“Forget it! For a third of half a million, I’d cut my wife’s throat.”
“And I believe you,” Lucille said in a flat, hard voice.
Karsh smiled at her.
“Relax, baby. I was just talking, besides, it’d need a hacksaw to saw through your throat.” Tilting his hat over his right eye, he left the office, swinging the brief-case in his hand.
Jacobs, waiting in the lobby, saw Karsh come out of the elevator. He saw the brief-case in his hand. As Karsh walked briefly out on to the street, Jacobs followed him. Karsh got into the office car and searched his pockets for the ignition key. When he found it, and as he was about to sink the key into the ignition lock, Jacobs opened the offside door and slid into the car beside Karsh.
“Hello, peeper,” he said and smiled at Karsh who lost colour as he recognised Jacobs. “Headquarters: the Chief wants to talk to you.”
Karsh’s eyes went furtively to the brief-case that lay on the seat between the two men.
“I’m busy right now,” he said. “I’ll see him later. What’s he want anyway?”
“He didn’t tell me,” Jacobs said, lighting a cigarette. “Headquarters, Karsh, and snap it up!”
“I tell you, I’m busy right now,” Karsh said desperately. “I’m on a job! Get out of my car! I’ll see your Chief in half-an-hour. Go on, copper, beat it!”
“You may not know it,” Jacobs said, his face suddenly like granite, “but there are some thirty officers, including me, who long to punch you in your left eye. We all think you are the nastiest maggot that crawled out of stinking meat! It would give us all great pleasure to push your horrible eye ball into your horrible brain. I said... headquarters!”
“You threatening me?” Karsh said, losing colour.