Black Mask (Vol. 22, No. 2 — Mary 1939)

“Grands!” he said, softly. “Forty-eight thousand bucks!”

“He’s a quick spender,” Quade commented. “Two G’s in one day. Guess he dropped it on the races.” He poked at the various objects he had taken from the unconscious ex-convict’s pockets. “I guess I was right, after all.”

“What’d you find?”

“Nothing,” Quade said. “Nothing but the money. If I’d found something else, I’d have been wrong. Put the money back.”

“Back? Why, that’s more money than I ever saw in my life.”

“It’s small change to what Willie had before the G-boys started in on him. His trial cost him a hundred thousand. His back income taxes ran almost to a million. And I imagine the fifty-thousand-dollar fine he had to scrape up before they let him off The Rock just about broke him.”

“Except for this change.”

Quade shook his head. “He’s made this since he got out... Ah!”

Higgins was twitching. Charlie backed away hastily, darted into the other room of the suite and came back without the automatic. He winked at Quade.

Higgins sat up and held his jaw. “You lug!” he spat at Charlie.

Boston grinned. “No hard feelings?”

“I’ll let you know about that later!”

Higgins got to his feet and, still holding his jaw, started for the door. Quade shook his head at Boston and the latter blocked Higgins.

“I want to ask you some questions, Willie,” Quade said.

Higgins suddenly thought to look in his pockets. He pulled out the bank roll, ruffled it and nodded in satisfaction.

“Why didn’t you light out with the fifty thousand, Willie?” Quade asked.

“I was going to,” said Higgins, “until you said Slocum wanted to see me. Up to then I was hanging around — just in case.”

“Just in case someone tried to pin a murder rap on you, eh? All right, you didn’t bump Maynard. Who did?”

“I don’t know,” said Higgins. “I came out of The Rock without a dime. All I had was a chunk of — something. I sold it for fifty thousand. Then the guy got knocked off. Somebody might have said I did it. That long-legged shamus was nosing around. Maynard might have told him about me.”

“He had,” said Quade. “That’s how I got interested. Well, we won’t be seeing you around then?”

Higgins shook his head. “I guess I’ll see what South America looks like.” He started for the door and looked at Charlie. “Look me up if you come to South America, big boy.”

“I want to see America first,” retorted Boston. “No hard feelings?”

Willie Higgins shook his head and went out.

“I think,” said Quade, “we’d better hurry if we want to get down to that inquest.”

Lieutenant Murdock said to Quade: “I was just going to send out some boys for you.”

“You can always count on Quade,” Quade said, cheerily. “Well, I see everybody’s here. Got it all sewed up?”

Christopher Buck said, “In a knot, old man.”

“Can you tell now who’s paying your fee, Christopher?” Quade asked.

“Sure, why not? Young Clevenger. His old man owns a bank in Iowa. He wanted me to see that Miss Wentworth didn’t get mixed up. But she won’t be called to testify. The lieutenant said it wouldn’t be necessary.”

“Well,” said Quade, “if you don’t want to be shown up as a sucker in front of the newspaper boys, I suggest you call the principals into the next room.”

Murdock glared at Quade. “You’ve pulled enough jokes!”

“The joke’ll be on you,” said Quade, “if Tommy Slocum files a suit against you for false arrest.”

Buck’s eyes rolled. “What’s that, Quade?”

“I mean you didn’t hit the jackpot after all, Buck, old fellow. I just had a little chat with Willie Higgins.”

“Willie Higgins!” exclaimed Murdock. “The fellow who just got out of Alcatraz?”

“Yep. Remember Willie, Christopher? You’re the lad who told me about him yesterday.”

Buck fidgeted uneasily. “Maynard gave me a bum steer, there.”

“You mean you changed horses when your first one dropped dead. Well, you going to call them into the next room? Or would you rather have me spill it on the stand over there, Lieutenant?”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to hear him,” Buck mumbled to Murdock. “He’s wrong, but—”

“Bring Slocum’s lawyer, too,” said Quade. “So he can get an idea for how much to sue.”

Murdock walked off and spoke to the various principals in the case: Slocum, Thelma and Clevenger. As they passed into another room Quade fell in beside Slocum. “I just left Higgins, Tommy. He was looking up the sailing schedules to South America.”

Slocum groaned. “You blithering fool! You let him get away?”

“Sure. He didn’t have what you wanted. But don’t worry. Desmond Dogg will save you.”

Murdock growled: “Mr. Quade has some things he wants to talk about.”

Quade nodded and began: “Mr. Slocum, how long have you been making Desmond Dogg cartoons?”

Slocum’s nostrils flared. “Six years. But I was doing other cartoons for three years before then. I don’t see though what that’s got to do with this.”

“This is the laundry,” Quade said. “Everything gets washed. I saw a preview of one of your Desmond Dogg pictures today. The screen credit says: ‘From the famous character created by Tommy Slocum.’ That isn’t quite so. You didn’t create Desmond Dogg, Slocum.”

Tommy Slocum remained quiet.