One Bright Summer Morning

He finished the whisky and refilled his glass. His heavy face was flushed and sweat beads made his thinning hair glisten in the hard overhead light.

He was now eight hundred thousand dollars to the good, he told himself. In another three days, he would have four million dollars in cash! There was Moe and these two young punks to take care of, but even after their cut had been deducted, he would still have three and a half million dollars for himself. At his age, that was lasting money!

He felt a sudden need to talk to Helene. He hesitated for some moments before he put the call through. There could be no danger, he assured himself. Why should there be? He gave his home number to the operator and replaced the receiver. He grinned to himself. Helene would be worrying herself stiff, he thought. Maybe now was the time to tell her about Solly Lucas. She would have to know sooner or later. If she started asking too many questions, he would always hang up on her, but she had better be warned: no use jumping the whole thing on her at once.

The telephone bell rang and he picked up the receiver.

“Hello?” Helene said. Her voice sounded far away and tense. “Who’s that?”

“This is your lover,” Kramer said and laughed. He was feeling fine and a little drunk.

“Oh, Jim! What’s happening. Where are you?”

Joe Seesbruger, one of Dennison’s men, who had tapped in on Kramer’s line, gently pressed down the start button of the tape recorder connected to the line.

“How are you, honey?” Kramer was saying. “Are you lonely without me?”

“Jim! Two Federal Officers have been here! They were asking for you!”

Kramer felt as if someone had punched him violently under the heart.

Seesbruger was signalling to the telephone engineer.

“Trace this call fast,” he whispered.

“What?” Kramer was saying. “What did they want?”

“They wanted to talk to you. Oh, Jim, I’m so worried! They know Moe has been here! This man, Inspector Dennison...”

Kramer nearly dropped the receiver.

“Dennison!”

“Yes. He said Moe hasn’t a restaurant. He said Moe hadn’t a dime to call his own. He — he said he hoped for your sake you weren’t planning anything bad. Oh, Jim! You’re not, are you?”

Kramer was scarcely listening. He wished now he hadn’t had so much to drink. He couldn’t think clearly. Dennison! One of the smartest Feds in the business and an old enemy of his! Dennison was a man he dare not underestimate!

“I’ll call you back,” he said hurriedly. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’ve got to go now. Don’t worry,” and he hung up.

The telephone engineer said, “That’s a call from the Rose Arms Hotel, Frisco.”

Seesbruger grabbed the telephone and asked to be put through to the Federal Bureau, San Francisco.

Kramer was on his feet. What a mad fool he had been to have called Helene! They had seen him with Moe and they had rightly decided he was planning something. He had been stupid enough to have imagined he could lose them, but with Dennison on the job, he hadn’t lost them! Dennison would have tapped his home telephone line! By now they would know he was at this hotel! In a few minutes, they would be here! He was already struggling into his lightweight dust coat. His suitcase only contained a change and his toilet things. To hell with it! He wouldn’t have time to settle his check before the Feds arrived. He had to get out fast!

Eleven minutes later, two Federal Officers hurried into the Rose Arms Hotel. They flashed their badges and showed the startled reception clerk Kramer’s photograph.

“Seen this man?” one of them asked.

“Why, sure,” the clerk said. “That’s Mr. Mason. He went out only two minutes ago.”

The two Federal Officers exchanged exasperated glances. The taller of the two, Bob Arlan, said, “Did Mr. Mason make any telephone calls this evening?”

“I wouldn’t know,” the clerk said, “but I can easily find out.” He started towards a door that led to the switchboard. Arlan followed him.

The telephone operator, large-eyed to be questioned by a Federal Officer, gave Arlan the information he needed.

Dennison was about to go home when Arlan called him.

“Kramer just beat us to it,” Arlan reported. “He had one other call besides the call to his home. Around eleven, he talked to someone staying at the Mount Crescent Hotel, Los Angeles.”

“Okay,” Dennison said. “Forget Kramer now. I’m not ready to pick him up.” He cut the connection and then got on to Seesbruger. “Stay where you are. I want details of every call put through to Mrs. Kramer.”

Seesbruger said wearily he would stay right on the job.

Dennison looked at his watch. The time was ten minutes after midnight. He called home and warned his wife he would be late, then he went down to where he had parked his car and headed fast towards Los Angeles.