When he’d obeyed, Archie came up behind him and tied his hands. Then he made him lie down on the floor and looped the same tether around his ankles. When he was through, the gunsel was trussed up with his legs bent at the knees and his hands tied to his feet. Then Archie went back to the closet, found another belt, and tied up the unconscious plug-ugly in the same way. He fastened his tie to the radiator and then shoved the first hood into the closet and closed the door on him. That way, he figured, they wouldn't be able to help each other get loose. That done, Archie made his way to the rear of the apartment.
The door to the bedroom was closed. Archie opened it. There was a small night light on over the bed. Its rays only half illuminated a sight that had Archie doing a double-take.
Dixie Keller was stretched out on the bed. Her red hair fanned out over the pillow. Her arms and legs were pulled wide, held in place by ropes fastening her wrists and ankles to the four bedposts. The position wasn’t unlike the scene Archie had watched Helen Giammori and Batman enacting for the pornographic movie Vito had been shooting. Except that Helen had been wearing a nightgown, whereas Dixie was completely nude.
Also, she was gagged. Her green eyes bulged with her plea to be freed as she stared at Archie. But she wasn't able to make any sounds or to give words to the plea.
A fine film of perspiration covered her naked body. It was a cool night, and Archie wondered at it. Then he saw the reason. In the space between each of her toes, matches had been inserted, head-first. Two of the matches were mere burnt and crumbling sticks of evidence as to what had been done to her. As Archie approached he could see the blisters they’d caused and he could detect the odor of burning flesh.
Quickly, he removed the gag and untied Dixie. As soon as she was free she rasped the wounded foot with both hands as if by holding it so she might soothe the pain. Archie stood back and watched her sympathetically.
“Did Vito’s two goons do that?” he asked finally.
She nodded without speaking.
“But why? I thought you hired them to protect you.”
“I did.” She snorted. “Some protection!”
“What did they want from you?”
“The same thing you’re after.” She looked at him levelly.
“You mean Beaumarchais’ formula?”
Dixie didn’t answer.
“Do you have it?” Archie persisted.
She curled up and continued patting her injured foot.
“Look,” Archie said, “if they got it from you, it still might not be too late to get it back. But you have to tell me."
The redhead seemingly ignored him.
“Then they didn’t get it,” Archie concluded. “You still have it.”
She shrugged.
“You did take it, didn’t you?”
Another shrug.
“You must have. Why else would you have killed Beaumarchais?"
“I didn’t kill him!” Now that she’d finally deigned to speak, her voice was indignant.
“He was alone in the room with you," Archie reminded her. “You must have killed him.”
“We weren’t alone.”
“You weren’t? Who else was there?”
‘Whoever killed Beaumarchais, that’s who. But I didn’t see the killer. I don’t know who it was. The shot came from outside the window. There’s a fire escape there.”
“Is that how you left?” Archie wanted to know. “By the fire escape?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Weren’t you afraid you’d run into the killer?”
“Yes. But I was in a hurry. I didn’t want to get involved in a murder case. That’s why I took the chance.”
“Come on! Quit putting me on! There’s more to it than that, and you know it,” Archie insisted. “You wouldn’t have chanced running into an armed murderer on the fire escape in the dark if you hadn’t had more at stake than just getting involved. Either you killed Beaumarchais yourself, or you stole his papers right after he was murdered. That’s the only way it adds up.”
“Think what you want to think,” she told him haughtily .
“If I’m wrong, then how come you went to such lengths to have Helen Giammori put you in contact with Beaumarchais? ”
“The way she talked about him, he sounded interesting. And I knew his reputation. That’s all there was to it.”
“You expect me to swallow that you were just looking for a thrill?”
“I don’t care what you believe.”
“Maybe you'll care if I call the cops.” Archie feinted toward the phone on the nightstand beside the bed.
“You’re bluffing. I heard one of the hoods on the phone with Vito before. I know the cops are after you for the murder. You wouldn’t dare call them. So why don’t you just pick up your marbles and take it on the lam, kid?”
“Is that gratitude?” Archie asked petulantly. “Here I come on like the Horse Marines and rescue you from those toe-toasters, and this is the thanks I get. Can't you show a little appreciation?”
“What's to appreciate? I know what you’re after. You’re no different from the rest of them.”
“Then you do have the Beaumarchais papers,” Archie said doggedly.
“Suppose I do?” she answered archly. “Would you be interested? ”
“Very.”
“How much is ‘very’ in the coin of the realm?”
“How much are you asking?” Archie decided to go along with the haggling.
“The last bid I had was two hundred thou.”
Archie whistled. “Somebody must want them awful bad,” he granted. “Don’t tell me that's what Vito’s Mafia boys were willing to pay.”
“Don’t be ridic! They’re strictly something-for-nothing bargainers. They got wind of what was up and decided to cut themselves in—and me out; that’s all. They weren’t buying; they just wanted to do the selling. That s why they were barbecuing my bunions. They wanted the merchandise so they could peddle it themselves.”
“Then who did offer the two hundred Gs?”
Dixie’s smile said that was for her to know and him to find out.
“The Russians? The Chinese? Some international cartel?”
“How do you know it wasn’t the CIA?” she teased him. “It’s important enough for them to make a bid, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Archie agreed. “It probably is. But the CIA guy who’d probably make it was too busy arranging his sex life to be bothered the last time I saw him. All right.” He took a deep breath. “If you won’t tell me who made the offer, how about telling me who put you onto Beaumarchais in the first place.”
“Why should I? What’s in it for me?”
Archie thought fast. “Protection,” he offered finally. “And the chance that I’ll be able to make a deal for you with the CIA to get the papers back.”
“I just might be interested” Dixie admitted. “About the deal, I mean. But I don’t need protection. I can take care of myself. And even if I did, what good would a skinny kid like you be to me?”
“I didn’t do so badly,” Archie reminded her. “And if I left now, those hotfoot experts might get loose and give you another going over.” He tossed the gun he’d taken from the hood up into the air and caught it neatly by the barrel. “Also, I’d guess that some of the other parties you’ve been dickering with might not be above pulling a fingernail or two if they thought it might save them two hundred Gs. No telling what they might do to get those papers without paying. Yeah, you need a bodyguard, baby. I’ll admit it’s a body worth guarding, so let's just say I’m applying for the job."
“If you‘re gonna come on like Humphrey Bogart, you should really get a haircut,” Dixie admonished him. She thought a moment. “There is something in what you say,” she granted. “I’ll tell you what. You stay here with me tonight. In the morning we’ll go to another place I’ve arranged for a hideout. The man with the two hundred Gs will contact me there. You act as go-between, and I’ll cut you in. He won’t get to me before tomorrow night. If you want to play Patrick Henry and make a deal with the CIA before then, that’s okay with me, too. So long as there’s no interference with my getting out of the country day after tomorrow."