Dan and the Death-Cell Bluff

Big Jim’s eyes narrowed and swung to Morgan Hart. The homicide officer rose with a mixture of puzzlement and suspicion tingeing his expression.

“What you getting at, Stub?” he asked belligerently.

“Speak up,” Big Jim commanded, his voice nearly as soft as Stub’s. “If Morg doesn’t like it, he can learn to.”

The baldheaded man shrugged. “I’ll give you the full report in order, including what we got from the phone tap. About a half hour after you left his room, Fancy put in a call to the state justice department and arranged to see Gene Robinson at the prison. Like I told you, he rented a car and took the girl with him. They were at the prison about forty-five minutes. When they got back to town, he dropped off the girl, returned the car and went back to the hotel. That’s when I dropped out and Gyp Fleming took over.

“Fancy had a bellhop find him a month’s back issues of the Star, and stayed in his room with them about an hour and a half. At seven he had dinner sent up. At seven-fifteen he started making phone calls. He made eight, and these are the numbers.” He laid a half-sheet of paper on Big Jim’s desk. “From the names he asked for whenever he got an answer, I guess he was calling all the witnesses in the Robinson trial.” Stub smiled briefly. “He didn’t have any luck.”

“He wouldn’t,” Big Jim said without interest.

“About eight he left the room and grabbed a cab to Larry Bull’s house. He was inside about fifteen minutes. Then he returned to the hotel and phoned Martin Robinson in Pittsburgh.”

Stub paused and for the third time his eyes moved to Lieutenant Morgan Hart. “This is where I wanted it to be private. Bull is a pal of the lieutenant’s.”

Hart’s eyes narrowed to slits. “What about Larry?”

“Go on,” Big Jim ordered.

The baldheaded man shrugged. “Fancy told Robinson he had a lead. He said one of the arresting officers in the Saunders murder was willing to repudiate his testimony for a guarantee of immunity and five thousand bucks. Robinson promised to wire the money.”

“I don’t believe it,” Morgan Hart said flatly.

Stub raised brows over eyes as hard as steel knives. “You mean I made it up?” he asked softly.

The homicide officer took a step toward the bald man, both of his fists clenched.

“Cut it!” Big Jim said. His eyes moved with displeasure from one to the other of his men. “Get Bull over here,” he ordered Morgan Hart. “Don’t tell him why. Just get him here.”

Without a word the lieutenant strode into the elevator. The steel door clanged and the elevator door slid shut.

“Think that’s wise?” Stub asked. “Sending Hart, I mean.”

Big Jim glared at him irritably. “Morgan would kill his mother if I told him to. And when I need punks to advise me, I’ll let you know. Sit down and shut up.”

The bald man blinked rapidly and a film settled over his eyes. He took the chair Morgan Hart had deserted and sat looking straight ahead. Big Jim opened a ledger and began adding figures.

Twenty minutes later Morgan Hart returned with Sergeant Larry Bull. He left the sergeant standing in front of Big Jim’s desk, and retired to a corner himself. Bull’s flat face wore a faintly worried expression.

“Dan Fancy called on you tonight,” Big Jim said without preamble. “What did he want?”

The sergeant flushed. “I don’t know. He just asked some silly questions.”

“Like what?”

“Like — I don’t know. I don’t remember exactly.”

“You mean you don’t want to remember?” Big Jim asked softly.

The sergeant looked alarmed. “No, sir. It wasn’t anything important. Nothing about the Saunders murder.”

Big Jim’s cherubic face became even more cherubic. “Now why would you mention the Saunders murder if he didn’t talk about it?”

Bull’s alarm visibly increased. “That’s why he’s down here, isn’t it? I mean, I thought it was funny he didn’t mention it.”

Big Jim nodded agreement. “Very funny. My sides practically ache.” He dropped his eyes to the ledger again. “That’s all I wanted, Bull,” he said quietly. “Go on home.”

An expression of incredulous relief flooded the sergeant’s flat face. “Sure, boss,” he said hurriedly, backing into the elevator.

When the elevator door had closed, Big Jim looked up at the two remaining men. “Arrange it as soon as you possibly can,” he said casually. “Dan Fancy will be the sucker, of course. And make it fool-proof. We’ll probably have the best defense lawyers in the country defending Fancy, and I want it so tight nothing can upset the apple-cart.”

Dan rose at eight, had breakfast in his room, and phoned Adele Hudson about nine. She was cool over the phone, apparently having not entirely forgiven him for his frank comments about her fiancé, but she agreed to have lunch with him. He arranged to meet her in the hotel cocktail lounge at eleven.

Over a Manhattan her coolness melted a trifle, particularly after Dan made a point of apologizing for his frankness. It was a somewhat oblique apology, however.