The phone crackled as Blake indicated he understood instructions. With a final grunt the inspector laid the receiver on the desk.
“We can’t have this thing ringing,” he said to me in explanation. “It might sound off in the middle of one of those five-minute checks.”
“What was the report from my place?” I asked.
“Negative. Nobody there. No sign of violence. What do you make of this, Moon? Alberto gone nuts?”
The private phone rang before I could answer. When I had listened to the usual silence and hung up again, I said, “Walter Ford’s killer has, apparently. Alberto is just stooging for him. Or her, as the case may be.”
Day looked puzzled. “What’s this snatch supposed to accomplish?”
“Get me off the case, I suppose. At least my guess is the ransom will be for me to drop the thing. Maybe I’ll have to agree to take a long trip.”
The phone Day had laid on the desk emitted a shrill whistle. The inspector picked it up, barked, “Yeah?” and then listened intently.
“Good,” he said finally. “Let me know as soon as they report in.” He laid the phone down again.
When I looked at him questioningly, he said, “The phone company has a supervisor tracing every call that comes to Fausta’s private line. That last checkup call you got came from a four-party residential phone. There’s no way to check which party, but there’s a squad car on the way to each address right now.”
It seemed to me it was about time for another checkup call. I glanced at my watch, then uneasily looked at it again.
“It’s eight minutes since the last call,” I said. “Maybe our killer got cagey.”
Apparently he had, for there were no more calls until Alberto himself finally phoned. After some discussion the inspector and I decided Alberto’s confederate probably never intended to continue phoning at five-minute intervals for the full hour. The device was designed to give Alberto time to get Fausta well away from the vicinity of my flat, we reasoned; and after the confederate made several calls, the risk of my using the phone to call the police was less than the risk of his calls being traced.
Another whistle from the phone connected to headquarters caused Day to pick it up again. When he had listened, then acknowledged the report with his usual grunt, he looked at me with a curious expression on his face.
“What now?” I asked.
“This one is a dilly. Three of the addresses on that four-party line turned out to be families who never heard of either you or Fausta. The last one was Thomas Henry’s basement flat.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Thomas Henry?” I repeated incredulously. “But he’s in jail!”
“Yeah,” the inspector said. “And his place is locked up tight. No evidence even that anyone had been there. But that’s where the ealls must have come from. Somebody walked in, made all those calls, then left and locked the door behind him. Maybe we better ask young Henry who might have a key to his flat.”
I shook my head hopelessly. “I checked the back entrance to his place. It has one of those old-fashioned locks any dime-store skeleton key will open.”
We had to wait nearly another full half hour after that before the call finally came from Alberto. I spent it walking up and down, clenching and unclenching my hands. Day spent it slouched in a chair, chewing on an unlighted and increasingly tattered cigar butt and following my pacing with his eyes.
Belatedly it occurred to me Day knew nothing of the murder of Daniel Cumberland, as the report wouldn’t reach his desk until morning. Grasping the chance to wrench my mind from Fausta’s plight, I brought him up to date on my visit with Bubbles and my later discovery of Cumberland’s body.
“This killer really is panicky,” he remarked. “Two murders and two kidnapings. You think maybe this Bubbles dame may be behind all this?”
Wearily I ran my hands through my hair. “I don’t know. Conceivably she could have hired Alberto to kill both Ford and Cumberland. There’s the motive of the blackmail picture, except that if the story Bubbles told me is true, it isn’t much of a motive. I like Ed Friday as a suspect better. Only the panic this killer is in doesn’t seem to fit Friday.”
“It occur to you Alberto may be working on his own?” Day asked. “Maybe the Ford-Cumberland team was blackmailing him for something.”
I shook my head. “He isn’t smart enough to have engineered the frame against Henry. His whole record shows he’s nothing but a two-bit punk. He’s just a hired hand.”
The inspector said musingly, “As soon as we get Fausta out of this jam, I think I’ll go over Ed Friday a little.”
It was ten minutes beyond the single hour Alberto had said I would have to wait when the phone finally rang. Though I had been awaiting it with growing impatience, the sudden peal of the bell nearly made me jump out of my skin.
Picking up the phone, I said harshly, “Moon speaking.”
“Hi, friend,” Alberto’s low voice said. “I see you’ve been a good boy and stuck right by the phone. I just talked to my boss, who tells me you behaved nice about not tying the phone up by making any outside calls too. You all alone?”
“I followed your instructions exactly,” I said in the same harsh tone. “Is Fausta all right?”
“Except for a little headache. Now here’s the shake, pal. Your girl stays right where she is, snug and cozy, for a full two weeks. You tell the people who work for her there that you and her are going on a little vacation. Then go up to her apartment, pack some of her stuff in a grip and take the grip to your own flat. Just leave it there.” He emitted a small chuckle. “You can lock the door. I got a key that opens any lock. Then...”
“Just a minute,” I interrupted. “Suppose Fausta’s staff suspects something? She isn’t in the habit of running off on trips without advance notice.”
“That’s your problem, friend. Just make sure it’s a good story. Because at the first sign of cop curiosity, you can kiss your girl good-bye.”
“All right,” I said. “I’ll make the story good.”
“Now after you get Miss Moreni’s bag to your apartment, pack what you need for yourself and catch a plane for anywhere you want to go, so long as it’s at least a thousand miles away. When you get there, send yourself a telegram to your own apartment giving your location and a phone number where you can be reached. I’ll take care of collecting the telegram. After that you just sit tight. At the end of two weeks I’ll turn the dame loose, give her your out-of-town phone number, and she can call you and tell you to come home. By the time you get here, I’ll be a thousand miles away, so don’t bother to hunt for me. Got all that?”
I said, “I think so, but it’s pretty elaborate. Let me repeat it back to you.”
“No, thanks pal. You got it all right, and I don’t like to talk too long. Good-bye now.”
“Wait a minute!” I said. “I’m willing to co-operate a hundred per cent because I don’t want anything to happen to Fausta. But how do I know I can trust you? I want some kind of evidence she’s all right.”
“Like me to send you one of her ears?” he asked savagely.
With an effort I controlled my voice. “I want an air-mail special-delivery letter in her own handwriting as soon as I wire my address. There’s no risk in that for you. I’ll wait forty-eight hours after I send my wire. If a letter doesn’t arrive by then, I’ll be back in town on the next plane looking for your scalp. Tell that to your boss.”
“Sure, pal. I’ll pass the word along. Meantime, you follow instructions. And remember, one peep to the cops and the next time you see your blonde, she’ll be on a marble slab.”
He hung up before I could get in another word.
I looked at Warren Day with desperation in my eyes. It was barely three minutes since the phone had rung.