Complete works of peter.., p.44
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 44
There is four bedrooms up there. One looks like a hired girl's room an' the other is a sorta store room there is all sorts of junk lying around. On the other side of the hall there are the other two rooms. One of 'em might belong to anybody, an' it don't have any special features that attract my attention. When I try the last door I find it is locked an' so I think that maybe this is the room I am lookin' for.
I take a look at the lock an' I think that it might fall for the spider key I got in my pocket, an' I try it out an' it works. I have the door open pronto an' go in. Directly I get into the room I can smell that this is what I am lookin' for the perfume comes up an' hits me. It's swell I always did like Carnation.
I go over an' pull the shades over the windows before I switch on the flash, an' then I take a look around.
It is a dame's room all right. There is a wrap lyin' over the back of a rest chair, an' there is a long line of the swellest shoes you ever saw. Oh boy, was they good? There is little shiny patents with French heels an' there is dress shoes in satin an' crepe-de-chine. There is polished brown walkin' shoes, ridin' boots an' a pair of pink quilted satin mules that woulda knocked a bachelor for the home run. I tell you these shoes was swell. They sorta told you that the dame who owned 'em knew her way about, an' I reckon that if the rest of her kit was on the same level, well, she was an eyeful any time.
I nose around. I am tryin' to figure out where a dame a clever dame would hide some papers so that nobody would guess where to find 'em supposin' they figured to look. I reckon that either she'd have 'em stuck on her body an' carry 'em around, or she'd put 'em in an innocent sorta place where no smart guy would think of lookin' for 'em.
Over in the corner is a pile of books standin' on a little table. I go over an' look at 'em. I run the pages of the top books through my fingers an' they are O.K. but when I grab the fourth book a leather-bound book of poetry, do I get a kick or do I? Somebody has cut a big square out of about fifty pages in the book, an' stuck inside is a packet of letters. I look at the address on the envelope of the top one, an' I do a big grin because it is addressed to Granworth C. Aymes at the Claribel Apartments, New York City.
It looks as if I have pulled a fast one on Henrietta. I stick the packet of letters in my pocket, put the books back, close an' lock the door behind me an' scram downstairs. I stick around for a bit just to see if anybody has been tailin' me, but everything is O.K.
I go out the same way as I come in, an' fix the back door so's it looks all right. I go over to the car an' I head back, intendin' to take the main desert road back to Palm Springs, but before I have gone far I come to the conclusion that I will go back to the Hacienda Altmira an' just have a look around an' see how the party is goin'.
I am there in about fifteen minutes.
The electric sign is turned off an' the place is all dark. There ain't a sign of anything. Way up on the top floor facin' me I can see a little light comin' between the window shades.
I go up to the entrance an' it is all fastened up. Then I think of the screens around on the left, an' I get around there. They are locked too, but they are pretty easy, an' I have one open pronto.
The moon has come up an' there is a lot of it tricklin' through a high window above the bar.
I shut the screen behind me an' start easin' across the floor. I am keepin' quiet an' if you asked me why I couldn't tell you. It just seems sorta strange that this place shoulda closed down so quick especially when everybody looked like they was having such a swell time.
When I get past the band platform, where the bar starts, I stop and take a look, because from here I can see the bottom of the adobe stairs that lead up the side of the wall. There is a piece of moonlight shinin' on the stairs an' as I look I can see somethin' shinin'. I go over an' pick it up. It is the silver cord that Sagers was wearin' in his silk shirt, an' there is a bit of silk stickin' to it, so it looks like somebody dragged it off him.
I turn off the flash an' stick around. I can't hear nothin'. I lay off the upstairs an' start workin' around the walls, nice an' quiet, feelin' for door knobs. I miss the entrance wall because I know that the passage leads straight out front.
I get over the bar because I figure that there will be a door behind, probably leadin' upstairs an' connectin' with the balcony some place. There is a door all right an' I have to spider it open because it is locked. On the other side is a storeroom. I go in an' use my flash. The room is about fifteen feet square an' filled with wine an' whisky cases an' a coupla big ice boxes. There is empty bottles an' stuff lyin' all over the place.
I ease over an' look in the first ice box. It is filled with sacks. In the second ice box I find Sagers. He is doubled up in a sack an' he has been shot plenty. I reckon he was on the run when they got him because he is shot twice in the legs an' three times through the guts at close range afterwards. I can see the powder burns on his shirt. Somebody has yanked his neck cord off him an' torn his shirt open.
I put him back in the ice box an' close it like it was. Then I get outa the storeroom, lock the door with the spider an' mix myself a hard one in the bar. I get over the bar an' scram out the way I come in.
I go back to the car an' drive towards Palm Springs.
It's a hot night; but it wasn't so hot for Sagers.
II. THE LOW DOWN
ANYHOW I have got the letters.
When I am about ten miles from Palm Springs I slow down. I light a cigarette an' I do a little thinkin'. It looks to me as if it is no good makin' any schmozzle about Sagers bein' bumped off, because if I do it is a cinch that I am goin' to spoil the chance of my gettin' next to this counterfeit business.
I suppose whoever it was ironed Sagers out will take him out some place an' bury him some time before dawn. As a bump off it was a nice piece of work, Because if Sagers had told 'em what I said he was to tell 'em, that he was blowin' outa here an' goin' back to Arispe to get the dough that this guy was supposed to have left him, then that is goin' to account for his disappearance, an' who the hell is goin' to worry about one dancin' partner more or less. Anyway it looks like I had better have a few words with the Chief of Police around here an' tell him about the Sagers bump off, an' get him to lay off things while I am flirtin' around with this proposition.
When I get into the main street I pull the car up under a light an' I take the letters outa my pocket an' I read 'em. There are three letters altogether. The handwritin' is good. Nice regular sorta letters with nice even spaces between the words, the sorta handwritin' that is swell to look at.
The first letter is addressed from a hotel in Hartford, Connecticut, and it is dated the 3rd January. It says:
Dear Granworth,
I know that you always have thought that I am a fool, and I haven't minded this particularly, but I do insist that you credit me with a certain amount of intelligence.
Your evasions and excuses during the last two months confirm my suspicions. Why don't you make up your mind about what you are going to do, or are you so selfish that you are prepared to take what advantage you can from the fact that the community regards you as a happily married man who has no need to sow any further wild oats, while at the same time you continue to carry on an affair with this woman.
When you denied this previously I believed you, but having regard to the events of the last day or two, and a letter which I have received from a person who is in a position to know, it is quite obvious that you have been making a fool of me and other people for some time past.
I'm fairly good-tempered, but quite candidly I've had enough of this business. Make up your mind what you're going to do, and be prepared to let me know very shortly. I shall arrange to come back and hear your decision.
Henrietta.
The second letter is from the same hotel, five days afterwards, the 8th January, an' it says:
Granworth,
I have received your letter and I don't believe a word of it. You're a very bad liar. I am going to have satisfaction one way or the other. Unless I do get satisfaction I am going to be rather unpleasant, so make up your mind.
Henrietta.
an' the third is just a few lines dated four days after, on the 12th January. It says at the top "New York" and goes on:
Granworth,
I shall arrange to see you this evening. So I've got to be tough!
Henrietta.
I put the letters back in my pocket an' I light another cigarette. It just shows you, don't it, that things are not always what they're cracked up to be. Up to now everybody believed that when Granworth Aymes died Henrietta Aymes was outa town in Hartford, an' here is a note which definitely shows that she was fixin' to see him on the day he died, an' that she was feelin' tough.
It's pretty easy to see why Henrietta was so keen on gettin' those letters back, but what a mug she was to keep 'em. Why didn't she burn 'em? Anyhow it looks to me that if I have any trouble with her, maybe I can use these letters as a means of makin' her talk, because I am beginning to think that this Henrietta is not such a nice dame as she tries to make out. In fact I am beginnin' to develop a whole lot of ideas about her.
I get out my notebook an' I look up the address of the Chief of Police here. He is a guy named Metts, an' he has got a house just off the street I am parked in. I guess he is not goin' to be so pleased about being dug up at this time of the night, but then I have always discovered that policemen ain't pleased with anythin' at any time.
I drive round an' park the car on the opposite side of the street. Then I go over an' ring a night bell that I find. About five minutes later he opens the door himself.
"Are you Metts?" I ask him.
He says yes an' what do I want. I show him my badge.
"My name's Caution," I say.
He grins.
"Come in," he says. "I heard about you. I had a line through the Governor's Office that probably you'd be handlin' this thing. I suppose you're down here about that phoney registered Federal bond business."
"You said it," I tell him.
I go in after this guy an' we go to a nice room on the ground floor where he gives me a big chair an' a shot of very good bourbon. Then he sits down an' waits. He is an intelligent lookin' cuss, with a long thin face an' a big nose. I guess I ain't goin' to have any trouble with him.
"Well, Chief," I tell him. "I don't want to be a nuisance to you around here. I just want to get this job I'm doin' finished as soon as I can an' scram out of it. The co-operation I want from you ain't much. It is just this. When this counterfeit Federal bond business broke an' I was elected to handle it, I got through an' got a guy in the 'G' Office at Los Angeles put over here workin' under cover, name of Sagers. He's been working out at the Hacienda Altmira as a dancin' partner.
"I blew in tonight with a phoney tale about his comin' into some money so as to relieve him, but somebody got wise to the job. When I went back to this dump later I found his body in a sack in the ice safe. Some guy had given him the heat in five places. He's still there. I'm reportin' that to you officially because a murder around here is your job; but I don't want you to do anythin' about it yet. I'll advise Washington that Sagers is due to have his name put on the memorial tablet at headquarters, an' we'll just leave it like that for the time being, because if you start gumshoein' around tryin' to find out who bumped him off we're just goin' to get nowhere. O.K.?"
He nods his head.
"That looks like sense to me," he says. "That's O.K. by me. I'll get out an official report as from you on Sagers' death, an' we'll file it and sit on it till you say go."
"Swell, Chief," I tell him. "Now the other thing is this. Who was the guy who sent the information through to Washington about that Federal bond bein' phoney? Was it you? If it was where did you get your information from? Was it the bank manager? How did it happen?"
He pours himself out a drink.
"I'll tell you," he says. "I got it from the bank manager. When this Aymes woman came out here, she opens a checking account at the bank. The bank manager, who is an old friend of mine, told me she opened this account with $2,000. She draws on this checking account until there is only ten dollars in it, and then one day she blows down to the bank an' sticks a five thousand U. S. registered Federal bond over the counter to the receivin' teller an' asks him to pay it into her account.
"Well, that bond is a nice piece of printin'. He looks at it an' it looks good to him, and it is only an hour afterwards when the manager is havin' a look at it that he gets hep that it is counterfeit.
"He rings up Mrs. Aymes an' tells her that the bond is as phoney as hell. She just seems a little bit surprised, that's all, an' accordin' to him she didn't seem to take very much interest. She says O.K. an' she hangs up. Next day he writes her a line an' says he'll be glad if she'll look in at the bank.
"She blows in. Then he tells her that this business is a little bit more serious than she might think. He tells her that he has got to report that a counterfeit bond has been paid into his bank, an' that the best thing that she can do will be to tell him just where she got the bond from an' all about it. She says O.K. she got the bond from her husband an' she got it with a packet of $200,000's worth of U. S. registered Federal bonds that he bought in New York for good money an' gave to her.
"When the manager asks where he bought 'em, she says he bought 'em from the bank, an' when the manager says that it's not easy to believe that because banks don't sell counterfeit bonds, she says that's as may be but that's all she knows. With that she gets up and is just about to go out when he asks her where her husband is as he reckons that somebody will be wantin' to ask him some questions.
"She turns round an' she smiles a little bit, an' she says she's afraid it will be damn difficult to ask her husband questions because he committed suicide in New York on the 12th January this year. Naturally this staggers the manager for a bit, but he says to her that she ought to be good an' careful because it is a federal offense to change bonds that are screwy, an' that he guesses she had better bring the rest down to see what they look like.
"So she drives off an' she comes back with the rest of this stuff $195,000's worth of registered Federal bonds in denominations of fifty thousand, twenty thousand, ten thousand, five thousand an' one thousand dollars, with the usual interest bearing coupons that go with them.
"In the meantime Krat, the manager, has been on to me about this an' after she has left the stuff at the bank, I go over an' look at it. The whole damn lot is counterfeit, but the job has been done so well that you have to have one helluva look before you see it.
"Well, there is the story. The same day I put the report through to the State. I suppose they pass it on to Washington an' you get the job. What are you goin' to do? Do you think she was in on this game? Do you think that she an' this husband of hers got this stuff made before he killed himself?"
"I wouldn't know, Chief," I say. "Nothing matches up in this deal. I've handled some screwy jobs in my time, but I don't think I've ever got one quite like this, an' maybe it won't be so hot for her before I am through with it."
"One of them interestin' things, huh?" he says.
"Yeah," I tell him. "An' how! It's one of them funny ones you know, nothin' matches up, but as a case it's damned interestin'. Here's how it goes:
"This guy Granworth Aymes an' the dame Henrietta Aymes have been married about six years. He is a gambler. He plays the market an' sometimes he makes plenty dough an' sometimes he's scrabbin' around for the rent. They do themselves pretty well though; they live in the Claribel Apartments, New York, an' they are heavy spenders an' put up a good front. They are supposed to be plenty happy too, in fact this Claribel Apartments dump is just another little love nest, an' you know how they usually end up?
"O.K. Well, at the end of last year this Granworth Aymes gets a hot tip. He plays it up well an' believe it or not the deal comes off. He muscles in on a big stock-pushin' racket an' he walks out of it with a quarter of a million dollars profit. The boy is now in the money.
"Well, it looks like he has a meeting with himself an' he comes to the conclusion that he's had enough of bein' up an' down on the market an' for once he is goin' to be a sensible guy an' salt down some of the profits. So he pays fifty thousand dollars into his checkin' account at the bank and with the other two hundred thousand bucks he buys himself that much worth of U. S. registered Federal bonds. He brings 'em along to his down town office an' he makes 'em up into a parcel an' seals it up an' he calls his lawyer on the telephone an' tells him to legally transfer the Federal bonds to his wife Henrietta Aymes. He says that if it's her money then they'll be all right in the future because she is a careful dame, an' will stick to the dough an' not let him go jazzin' it around.
"The lawyer guy gets a bit of a shock at hearin' Granworth talk like this, but he is pleased that he is gettin' some sense, an' he draws up a deed of gift to Henrietta Aymes an' the deed is registered an' the lawyer then hands the bonds over to Henrietta, an' the bonds he handed over was O.K., they wasn't phoney, they was the real stuff.
"All right. Well, Granworth is on top of the world, ain't he? He's got a swell wife because they tell me that this Henrietta is one swell baby he's got fifty thousand dollars in his checkin' account. He don't owe no money an' everything is hunky dory.
"An' it looks like Granworth is learnin' some sense. He plans to buy some more insurance. He is insured on an annuity policy at this time with the Second National Corporation an' he waltzes along an' he says he wants to take out additional insurance. He wants to pay a down premium of thirty thousand dollars. They examine him for health an' they find him O.K. They give him the new policy, but there is just one little snag.
"Two years before this guy Granworth Aymes has tried to bump himself off. He tries to commit suicide by jumpin' in the East River. He'd been havin' a bad time an' was broke an' didn't like it. He was fished out by a patrolman.
