Black Mask (Vol. 21, No. 8 — November, 1938)
- Автор: Баллард Уиллис Тодхантер, Cave Hugh B.
- Год: 1938
- Язык: английский
- Год: Pro-Distributors Publishing
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Black Mask (Vol. 21, No. 8 — November, 1938)». Краткое содержание книги:
Spellman shrugged. “That’s not the way the blonde tells it. We finally got her sober and she talked. Mike and Hobbs have been rowing for over a week.”
“What about?”
The Homicide chief spread his hands. “Better go and ask Hobbs. Maybe you can get it out of him.”
Lennox rose. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” He left the detective’s office, rode up in the elevator and asked to see the flyer. A call from Spellman had him admitted and a few minutes later he was talking to the prisoner.
Hobbs was pacing back and forth across the small cell. “I’ve got to get out of here, Bill. I’ve got to find out something and I’m the only one who can do it.”
Lennox told him, “You can make up your mind to one thing. You’re not getting out until Mike’s real killer is found. Spellman will see to that. He’s got his thick head set on the idea that you’re guilty. Tell me what you want done.”
The flyer shook his head stubbornly. “Can’t.”
Lennox had difficulty keeping the anger out of his voice. “What’s Butcher Morgan got to do with him — and Rodriguez?”
Hobbs started. “Where’d you get the idea that they had anything to do with it?”
Lennox told him. “It’s your turn to start answering questions. Did Morgan or the General kill Farnero?”
The flyer hesitated. “I don’t know,” then his chubby face hardened. “Keep out of this, Lennox. This is my business. Let me take care of it my way.”
Bill told him, harshly, “I’ve got a stake in this too. Remember, there’s half a million of General Consolidated’s money tied up in a picture that we can’t finish without you. And I’m the one who got you the job. This other job Morgan and Rodriguez want you to do— Is it flying for them to Mexico? Maybe flying guns?”
Hobbs frowned, lowered his eyes, refused to answer. “Look, Bill. I’m a heel, I’m anything you want to call me, but do one thing. Send Nancy down here. I’ve got to talk to her.”
Lennox gave up and left the cell. He rode the elevator to the street and took a cab to the studio. There was a memo on his desk that Spurck wanted to see him as soon as he came in. He went into the production chief’s office.
Spurck looked like Napoleon at the rout of Waterloo. “So, you find time to come to the office yet. Positivel, you would think you do us a favor, working here.”
Spurck sat down. He was short and always felt at a disadvantage when standing. “Last night I tell you Hobbs is walking out with half the picture in the can already, and you promise to fix it. You fix it! Not only has he walked out on us, but now the schliemel is mixed up with a murder yet. A fine business! A collosal business, for a man with high blood pressure. Oi!”
Lennox was geting sore. “I’ve been downtown all morning trying to straighten things out. Hobbs won’t talk, but I don’t think he killed Farnero.”
“You don’t think! Does that re-shoot the picture? Does that find us another flyer?”
“Pour it on. I’m doing the best I can.”
“And I say,” Spurck said triumphantly, “that best is not yet good enough. Look, Bill. Hire the best detectives; find out who this killer is and get this Hobbs out from jail, but when you get him, hang on to him till we finish with all the retakes. That is all. We are positively depending on you. D’ya understand?”
Lennox rode in a cab out to Nancy Hobbs’. The fan writer looked tired when she opened the door and led the way into the living-room. There was a man in the chair beside the window.
Nancy said, “This is Arthur Farnero, Bill. Arthur is Mike’s nephew. They wired him and he flew up from San Diego this morning.”
Farnero was tall, thick through the shoulders, and black-haired. He shook hands, said, “This knocks me over, Mr. Lennox. I saw Mike last week.”
Bill nodded. “I understand how you feel. Any idea as to who might have done it?”
Farnero hesitated. “Several. Mike had a sarcastic way at times. A lot of people have been burnt up about it.”
The girl cut in: “Have you seen Frank, Bill?”
“Yes, I was there this morning. He wants to see you. I wish your cousin would talk. He told me that he didn’t kill Mike and I don’t think he’s lying, but he does know something, or has an idea.”
Her voice was impatient. “Of course he didn’t kill Mike. Why, he’d kill me.”
Arthur Farnero said, “What if I went and talked to him. After all, it’s my business, too. He might talk to me.”
Lennox looked at him. “You might try it. It can’t hurt anything. By the way, you saw your uncle the other day. I don’t suppose he said anything that might help?”
Farnero shrugged. “I don’t remember. We were talking about some of the men we used to know in Mexico. I was with him down there, you know.” He smiled. “It was fun while it lasted, but it didn’t last long. We had some old crates — the wings used to fall off every time we took them up.” He rose and said, “Will you come over to Mike’s apartment with me for a second? I’d like to look around.”
“All right.” Lennox was on his feet. “I’ll be back in a little while,” he told Nancy, and followed Farnero down the steps and to Mike’s apartment.
The policeman at the door nodded as he saw Lennox and let them into the apartment.
Once inside, Farnero said, “I wanted to talk to you without Nancy hearing what I had to say.”
Lennox stared at him in surprise. Farnero went on, “I want you to understand. Mike had a bad temper, and when he was mad he said things that he regreted later. Well, I know that he was sore at Frank. Some of the revolutionists we fought for in Mexico have been talking to Frank, Mike didn’t tell me last week what they wanted, but I can guess.
“There’s trouble starting down there. They wanted Mike to go, but he wouldn’t listen. Frank did. He’s in love with the daughter of one of the leaders. He promised them he’d do something — Mike didn’t tell me what it was — but after they started working in pictures, Mike wanted Frank to pull out of the revolution. Frank wouldn’t do it. Said he’d promised, and that he wouldn’t break his word.
“They’ve been arguing for two weeks. I think maybe they started again last night; that Mike may have said something to make Frank sore and he grabbed the gun, then Mike struggled with him and it went off.”
Lennox was watching. “That’s not what the cops think. They think Frank killed Mike for the money.”
“Money! What money?” Farnero’s voice was high with surprise.
Lennox stared. “Haven’t you heard? Mike inherited plenty from some man whose life he saved below the Line. I think you are mentioned in the will.”
“The devil!” Farnero ran a hand across his eyes. “I’ll have to look into that. I haven’t had a chance to see Mike’s lawyer, but what I’m trying to say is — I like Frank and I’m very fond of Nancy. I know what Mike would want me to do. I just wanted to tell you that whether Hobbs is guilty or not, I’ll help him as much as I can. I’m going down to the jail.”
Lennox didn’t say anything. He followed Farnero to the street and watched the man get into his cab, then he went back up the block to the girl’s apartment.
Voices reached him through the thin panel of Nancy’s door. He rapped and for an instant there was silence within, then footsteps. Nancy opened the door.
“Oh, it’s you.” She seemed puzzled, a little surprised as if she hadn’t expected him back so quickly.
He followed her in, started as he recognized the slight man in the big chair across the room. The man rose quickly and made a bow, stiffly from the hips