Kept Women Can’t Quit

“He was too smart to carry the fifty grand with him, Bertha, because he felt we might get wise to something and search him. He wanted the fifty grand shipped down here so it would be included in some legitimate business purchase he’d made up there. He’s just that much smarter than you think he is. He knew that I might call at the office and ask you if any package had been received from San Francisco. You’d have said that a package had just come in and I’d have told you to bring it down to Headquarters or else I’d have come tearing up here and opened it.

“It’s just like the brainy little bastard to have something like this darkroom paper that would be ruined when I opened it so he could have the laugh on me. Then he figured I’d have to dig up the price of a new box of enlarging paper out of my own pocket. Then, a couple of days later an innocent-looking package would come in from San Francisco. By that time the heat would be off and he’d just open the package, take the fifty grand and be that much ahead.”

“You mean he’s stealing fifty grand?” Bertha asked.

“Not stealing,” Sellers said. “He’s trying to get that fifty grand and make a deal with the insurance company.”

“If you weren’t so damned cocksure of yourself,” I said, “you wouldn’t pick up a button and sew a vest on it every time I start working on a case.”

Sellers started chewing on his wet cigar.

“All right,” Bertha said, “what do you want next?”

Sellers said, “I’m going to take Donald with me.”

Bertha shook her head. “No, Frank,” she said. “You can’t do that.”

“Why can’t I?”

“You haven’t got a warrant and—”

“Hell’s bells,” Sellers said, “I don’t need a warrant. I’ve got him on suspicion of murder and half a dozen other things.”

“Think it over, Frank,” Bertha said in a low voice.

“Think what over?”

“The minute you take him down to Headquarters,” Bertha said, “the reporters will be on your tail. There’ll be a big story in the newspapers about how you’ve arrested Donald and—”

“Not arrested,” Sellers said, “brought him in for questioning.”

“He won’t go unless you arrest him,” Bertha said. “He’s too damn smart for that. He’ll get you to stick your neck out in public before you really have all the evidence and then make you look like a monkey while he winds up smelling like a rose.”

Sellers chewed on the cigar for a few seconds, looked at me with angry eyes, looked at Bertha, started to say something, changed his mind, waited a few more seconds, then slowly nodded.

“Thanks, Bertha,” he said.

“Don’t mention it,” Bertha commented.

Sellers turned to me. “Now look, wise guy,” he said, “you make one move, just one move, and I’m going to give you the works. I’m going to throw the book at you and clobber you.”

Sellers turned on his heel and swung out of the office.

Bertha said, “Donald, I want to talk with you.”

“Just a second,” I said, and walked over to where Elsie Brand was standing in the doorway of my reception office where she had been watching proceedings.

I said in a low voice, “Get me the Happy Daze Camera Company on the line. I want the manager. I’ll probably be in Bertha’s office when the call comes in. You ring me there but hold this guy on the phone so I can come back and talk in my office.”

“Do you know the man’s name?” she asked.

I shook my head. “He’s Japanese. Just ask for the manager. I want him on the phone. They may be closed by this time. If they are, try and get a night number.”

Elsie looked at me. “Donald, are you in trouble, real trouble?”

“Why?” I asked.

She said, “The others were watching that camera box when Sergeant Sellers opened that box of paper. I was watching your face. You looked for a second as though you were going to fall down.”

I said, “Never mind my face, Elsie. I’ve got myself in pretty deep and may have you along with me.”

“Would I have to testify against you?” she asked.

“If they get you in front of the grand jury, you will. Unless...”

She watched me as I lapsed into silence.

“Unless we were married?” she asked.

“I didn’t say that,” I said.

She said, “I did. Donald, if you want to marry me so I can’t testify and then go to Nevada and get a divorce afterward, it’s okay with me. I’ll do anything... anything.”

“Thanks,” I told her. “I—”

“Dammit to hell!” Bertha screamed across the office. “Are you going to stand there yakkity-yakking all afternoon or are you coming in here?”

“I’m coming in,” I said.

I walked into Bertha’s office. She closed the door, locked it and stuck the key in her desk drawer.

“What’s that for?” I asked.

She said, “You’re going to stay here until you come clean. I don’t know what you were telling Elsie there in a low voice, but if you were telling her to call San Francisco and get the manager of that goddam camera store on the line, Bertha is going to sit right here and listen to every word you say.”

“What makes you think I’m calling anyone in San Francisco?” I asked.