He Won't Need it Now

     “Let's skip this, and get down to things. I've been wanting a talk with you for some time. When you sent me out on that phoney photo stunt of yours, I fell right into trouble, and I've been that way ever since. I'm getting to like it, and I'm seeing quite a bit of dough hanging to it. You play ball with me now, and you going to get into something that's going to make your ears flap. Let's get this straight. You wanted to put the screws on Edwin English, through his daughter, ain't that the way it goes?”

     Morgan stared at him for several minutes, his eyes expressionless, then he said, “Suppose it was?”

     “If I'd turned in those photos of Cattley and the girl together, you could have cracked down on English. You could have warned him off your rackets, and he would have had to like it.”

     Morgan wandered over to a chair and sat down, but he didn't say anything.

     “You know Murray Gleason?”

     A flicker of surprise went over Morgan's face. “Yeah, I know him.”

     “What do you know about him?”

     “Where's this leading?” Morgan was suddenly impatient.

     “I'll tell you. Gleason is running a big dope racket amongst some of the real big shots in the upper circle. He's got them so short that they're screaming murder. That guy has a pension from them of nearly a million bucks. Did you know that?”

     Morgan shook his head. His thick lips curled a little. “That ain't true,” he said. “Gleason is only a cheap peddler—was when last I knew him.”

     Duffy laughed. “You're out of date,” he said. “Gleason's moved into the big-shot class, but he's smart enough to keep it to himself. He stands no chance of having any political boss smacking his ears down for him.”

     Morgan said at last, “I ain't interested in Gleason.”

     Duffy nodded. “Sure you ain't,” he agreed, “but you'd like his racket, wouldn't you?”

     “When I want his racket, I'll take it,” Morgan aid, tapping the long ash into the tray.

     Duffy leant back and studied the ceiling. “Gleason's had a list of all his customers and the amounts they pay for protection,” he said.

     Morgan looked up sharply. “You said 'had'?”

     Duffy still didn't take his eyes from the ceiling. “Sure, that's right. I've got it now.”

     Morgan sat silent, then he said, “I see.”

     Duffy said, “It's in the market right now.”

     Morgan became elaborately casual. Duffy nearly laughed at him. “It might be useful,” he said.

     Duffy said, “You ain't got the idea quite.” He spoke carefully, as if to a child. “This English girl is tied up with Gleason. She's as wild and crazy as a loon. These two are working this racket between them. And they're making plenty out of it. With the list, you can smash their little game, put English on the spot, and have three hundred big shots pouring their dough into your lap, just to keep out of it.”

     Morgan chewed on his cigar. “The way you're putting it, it sounds good,” he said.

     “It is good. That's why I'm offering it to you.”

     “What have I done?”

     “You got the dough.”

     “How much?”

     “Fifty grand,” Duffy said. “I don't mean thirty, or forty. It's worth fifty, and it's fifty I want.”

     Morgan shrugged his shoulders slightly. “I guess you'd never peddle that for that amount of dough,” he said.

     Duffy stood up. “Okay,” he said, “I'll get the money from the other side. Why should I worry?”

     “Wait. You've overlooked something.” Morgan looked foxy. “You've given me some nice information. I don't doubt that. Think, would you pay that much money? You forget, I've got three guys who're eating their heads off for a job. I ain't paying fancy prices for a thing like that. Do you know what I'd do if I had a list like that?”

     Duffy said, “What would you do?”

     Morgan grinned. He looked like a wolf. “What you've done. Make a duplicate and sell it to both sides.”

     Duffy's face was quite blank. “It's an idea,” he said, considering it.

     Morgan shook his head. “It was a pip of an idea, but not now. When you've sold that list to Gleason, I'll call on him and take it away from him.”

     Duffy said, with a hard smile, “You're pretty sure of yourself, ain't you?”

     Morgan raised his fat shoulders again. “And I'll tell you something else,” he went on, flicking his ash into the tray, “I'll send Joe to collect that fifty grand off you, when Gleason has paid it. That ought to show you.”

     Duffy moved to the door. “I guess you and I won't get on so well in the future,” he said sadly. “I'm sorry about that.”

     “You will be,” Morgan said very gently.

     Duffy opened the door. Joe was standing just outside. Duffy looked over his shoulder at Morgan. “There ain't anything more now, is there?”

     Morgan shook his head. Then a thought crossed his mind and he said, “Wait.”

     Duffy stood still. He didn't turn his back to Joe, but stood three-quarters, so that he could watch Joe from the corner of his eye. “Yeah?” he said.

     Morgan picked up the five bills from the table. “Suppose you take these and give me the list?”

     “What for?” Duffy was quite startled.