Dan and the Death-Cell Bluff

Unexpectedly both his big hands lashed out and grabbed a double handful of shirt-front. Jerking the two men off balance, he brought his fists together in front of his own chest so that one shoulder of each was clamped against one shoulder of his partner as they half-faced each other, and their other shoulders were crammed against Dan’s chest, a position which effectively immobilized their arms. Nor in their side-wise position was either able to bring a knee into play.

They hung helpless in the big man’s powerful grip, glaring up at him murderously as he grinned at them.

“Tell Big Jim Calhoun the war is on,” Dan said huskily. “And next time not to send boys to do a man’s job.”

A sudden thrust sent both men reeling backward to sprawl either side of the doorway. Sweeping up his suitcase, Dan took the girl’s arm and piloted her through the door. Without a backward glance he made for the group of taxi drivers, extended his suitcase to one by holding it with two sausage-like fingers through the strap, and grinned when the man was nearly jerked off center by its weight.

“You shouldn’t have done that to Morgan Hart and Larry Bull,” Adele Hudson said breathlessly. “They’re Big Jim Calhoun’s foremost hired killers.”

“Nice type to have on a police force,” Dan grunted.

As they followed the loping cab driver, Adele’s legs moved like twin pistons in her attempt to keep up with the big man’s long strides. “I wonder how they knew you were arriving,” she said.

Dan Fancy’s grin became even wider than usual. “I sent Big Jim Calhoun an anonymous wire from Pittsburgh saying a private dick named Daniel Fancy had been engaged by Martin Robinson to get young Robinson out of death row, and that Fancy would arrive on the eleven A.M. train today. I signed it ‘A Friend’.”

The girl stopped in her tracks. “Whatever did you do a thing like that for? Are you trying to get killed?”

“No. Trying to get framed,” Dan said cryptically.

Back in the waiting room, as the two plainclothesmen picked themselves up and began brushing themselves off, the sad-faced little man in the corner rose to his feet and unobtrusively left by the same door Dan and Adele had used. When he reached the group of taxi drivers, he surrendered his grip to one, nodded his head toward the retreating back of Dan Fancy, and said in a thin, reedy voice, “Five bucks if you keep the big fellow in sight without him catching on.”

“What’s the best hotel?” Dan asked. Adele Hudson as he helped her into the cab.

“The Lakeview, but its rates are tremendous. We’re in the middle of the tourist season, you know.”

“With a millionaire paying expenses, I should quibble?” he inquired. To the driver he said, “Lakeview Hotel.”

On the street Dan Fancy merely looked big, for his breadth was in proper proportion to his height except across the shoulders, and their width tended to make him seem shorter than he was. But in the close confines of a taxi his size was hard to conceal. He was hot built for taxis. His heavy shoulders spanned half the back seat, crowding the girl against the far window, where she sat like a toy doll, the top of her head barely even with Dan’s collarbone.

“Tell me about the town,” Dan said.

“Well—” the girl started uncertainly. “I’m not sure how much Mr. Robinson told you. If I knew that—”

“Nothing about the town, except it’s as crooked as a Scotch walking stick. Just that his son was in the death house on a fake murder rap and I’m supposed to get him out. Also that you’re the kid’s fiancée, so presumably are trustworthy, and can give me the whole story.”

“I see.” She paused, frowning over her thoughts, then asked, “What was that you said to those detectives about being a special investigator for the governor? Mr. Robinson’s wire said you were a private detective.”

“The old man had an afterthought subsequent to wiring you. Seems another private dick he sent down here was arrested for vagrancy, beat up and kicked out of town two hours after he arrived. The governor is a personal pal of old man Robinson, so he armed me with enough authority to hit back in case any local cops start swinging. Makes it tough for the locals to work a vagrancy charge. Get on with your story.”

“It’s a rather long story,” she said doubtfully, looking at the back of the taxi driver’s head and then giving Dan a warning glance.

“Even the walls have ears, eh?” he said amusedly. “Look, Adele, there’s nothing subtle about me. All I know how to do is wade in slugging with both hands. I’ve got no secrets from anybody, so talk up.”