Thorne moved toward him and said something in a low voice.
Stevens looked doubtful. He thought for a minute and then said, “Well, to settle all question, I’m going to take charge of that suitcase.”
“Not until after it’s been inventoried, you aren’t,” Duncan said.
“Look here,” Thorne blazed. “You were damned anxious to accept my friendship when it came to getting into office. Well, I can break you, Phil Duncan, just as easily as I made you.”
Duncan said wearily, “I played the game of politics. It didn’t get me anywhere. You packed my office with men who were loyal to you instead of being loyal to me. You sold me out. You gave criminals immunity from prosecution by having files stolen from my office. You...”
“Shut up,” Thorne interrupted. “You’re crazy. You blab that sort of stuff and the Grand Jury will hold you personally responsible. You’re playing right into the hands of the opposition.”
“I don’t give a damn what happens,” Duncan said quietly. “I’m going to do the square thing; I don’t care who gets hurt.”
Stevens, the blackjack dangling from his wrist, stepped forward and said, “Give me the suitcase. If it’s that important I’ll keep it.”
Thorne surrendered the suitcase. Duncan stood between him and the door.
“You’re not going out of here with that suitcase,” he said, “until it’s been inventoried.”
“Who says so?” Stevens asked.
“I do.”
“Baloney!” Thorne said. “You’re just a-prosecutor. You can’t make arrests. Stevens is the only one here with authority to act. You sit tight, Stevens, and I’ll back you to the limit.”
“Very well,” Duncan said, with a frosty smile, pulling a sheaf of papers from his pocket, “you boys asked for this. I’ve got one of these for each of you.”
“What’s that?” Thorne asked.
“These,” Duncan said, “are subpoenas ordering each of you to appear forthwith before the Grand Jury, which is now in session, and ordering you to bring, intact, any and all papers and documents in your possession. And, on behalf of the Grand Jury, I now, having served these subpoenas formally, take charge of the documents contained in that suitcase.”
“Now, then, you wise birds, laugh that off.”
Chapter Nineteen
A uniformed officer escorted Sam Moraine into the room where Phil Duncan sat behind a desk.
Moraine licked his sore lips, tried to grin, and gave it up as a bad job.
“Well,” he said, “I guess you’re right, Phil. A man’s a damn fool to monkey around with crime unless he has to. It doesn’t seem to get me any place except jail.”
Duncan nodded to the officer and said, “That’s all. You may leave.”
As the officer closed the door Duncan looked at his wrist-watch.
“In ten minutes, Sam,” he said, “I’ve got to go before the Grand Jury and air this whole stinking mess. It’s going to mean I’m out of politics for good.”
“Why did you do it?” Sam asked.
“Because it’s the fair thing to do. It’s the square thing to do.”
“But not the politic thing to do?”
“Not the politic thing to do, and not the political thing to do,” Duncan said. “But I took an oath, when I entered this office, to discharge the duties to the best of my ability, and I’m going to do it.”
Moraine nodded.
“Now then,” Duncan said, “that brings up the question of what you’re going to do.”
Moraine raised his eyebrows.
“Don’t stall,” Duncan told him. “I’m not in a mood for it. Where are those documents?”
“Why, you got the suitcase, didn’t you?”
“When that suitcase was opened up,” Duncan said, “it contained a swell bunch of magazines. You must have gone down to a news stand somewhere and bought every current magazine that was for sale.”
“Not all of them,” Moraine said. “There were too many. But I got a pretty good supply of them.”
“What was the big idea?” Duncan asked him.
“I thought perhaps I was going to jail, and I wanted to have some reading matter.”
Duncan said wearily, “Go on, Sam. Kick through.”
Moraine shook his head.
“What are you holding out for?”
“I want you to put your cards on the table face-up before I put mine face-up.”
“I can’t do it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I cant.”
“Where’s Natalie Rice?”
“In custody.”
“Is she subpoenaed as a witness before the Grand Jury?”
“Yes.”
Moraine wet his sore lips, and said, “Anyone else that I don’t know about coming in as a witness?”
“If you’re trying to ask a guarded question about her father,” Duncan said, “we haven’t located him yet, but we think we will any minute.”
“If her father is brought before the Grand Jury as a witness,” Moraine said, slowly, “hell be desperate. He’s in a mood to do anything. He’ll ruin that girl’s life.”
“Lots of lives are being ruined,” Duncan said tonelessly. “Where are the papers, Sam?”
“Those papers,” Moraine said slowly, “if I have them, would be my hole-card, wouldn’t they, Phil? I wouldn’t want to turn them up until after I’d got all the bets on the table.”
“All the bets are on the table.”
“No, they’re not.”
“What are you driving at?”
“I’ll make you a bargain,” Moraine said.
“You won’t make a bargain with me, Sam. I’m past making bargains with anyone. I’m going to do my duty.”
“This is the kind of a bargain that will help you do your duty.”
“Go ahead and make your proposition then. I’m listening.”
“Are you really anxious to get those papers?”
“Of course I am.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s going to clean out a nasty mess in the city and county administration.”
“It’s going to sweep your political party out of power.”
“I don’t give a damn what happens. I’m district attorney. Those documents relate to a situation which has developed in this community, and I’m going to see that the Grand Jury gets them.”
“There’s some stuff in there that won’t look so hot for you, Phil.”
“Are you telling me? Of course there is. It’s the end of my political career. It means I’ll be retired in disgrace.”
“But you’re going to do it?”
“Of course I’m going to do it. I haven’t been crooked. They can’t produce any document that will show I was crooked. They probably can produce documents which will show I allowed myself to be imposed upon. They can perhaps produce documents showing that there was corruption in my office; that those whom I trusted betrayed me; that they sold immunity from prosecution to the big crooks. That’s going to hint, but I can’t help it. If it’s part of the picture, it’s going to be made public, because I’m going to air that whole business.”
Moraine nodded slowly.
Duncan looked at his wrist-watch.
“I’ll make you a bargain, Phil,” he said.
“You said that before,” the district attorney observed.
“I’m saying it again, Phil. I’ll make you a trade. I’ll produce those documents — that is, I’ll tell you where that suitcase is so you can produce it in front of the Grand Jury if you’ll let me question the witnesses.”
Duncan showed surprise.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if you’ll let me question the witnesses who are being examined concerning the murder of Pete Dixon and Ann Hartwell.”
“I can’t do that, Sam. That wouldn’t be proper legal procedure. It wouldn’t be ethical. It wouldn’t be...”