The Black Lizard Big Book of Black Mask Stories

“Did Kirkwood know that Levy had this information?”

“No. Levy wasn’t going to use it unless Kirkwood forced him to. Like I told you, Levy was really trying to be a good boy.”

“Then,” I said, “it doesn’t add up. Kirkwood wouldn’t have any reason to do it.”

“Maybe I ought to say that Kirkwood didn’t know anything about it until just before the meeting tonight. Levy was tipped off during the day from St. Louis that somebody was checking his record there. He figured Kirkwood must be behind it and he phoned Kirkwood about six o’clock and asked him to come over after the meeting. I didn’t hear the conversation but I’m betting Kirkwood got a hint that he wasn’t sitting so pretty, himself.”

That reminded me that when I’d called the Woodring house, the butler had told me I couldn’t talk to Kirkwood. And that when he had come into the reception room later, I’d had the feeling he’d just arrived from some place.

Manners went on: “However, that’s just background. I don’t think Kirkwood pulled it because I’ve got two much better candidates. How do you think Levy got himself set up in this cult racket? It took dough.”

“I wouldn’t know. Maybe he had some.”

“He didn’t have two nickels to bounce together when he got out of Atlanta. All he had was a swell idea and a couple of pals that were willing to stake him while he put the idea over. Levy never broke down and told me all this, I just picked it up a little here and a little there, and put it together. The idea was that a lot of rich screwballs, particularly women, fall for cult stuff and will let their hair down in private to the high yogi. Levy was supposed to get the dirt, pass it on to his pals and they’d put the squeeze on the saps.”

For the first time I felt as though I was getting warm on the case. I said, “Who were these pals?”

“Two cons that Levy met at Atlanta. One is Skip Morris, a racket guy who went up from Chicago for income tax stuff, and the other is Harry Lake, a hot number from New York. I don’t know what he was in the can for. As a matter of fact, I never saw the pair except once when I body-guarded Levy over to the Roosevelt and he talked to them there. But I know they were the reason the last couple of months why Levy kept me on.”

“How do they fit into last night’s caper?” I said, killing my Teacher’s. I thought I could guess that but I was willing to let him tell me. I figured also that I knew just about where the Woodring letters had gone, although I couldn’t dope out how anyone had managed to be waiting for me outside the old gal’s house.

“Levy’s idea was a swell idea,” Manners said, “except that Levy went holy on these guys. He got plenty of dirt on a lot of suckers but he wouldn’t pass it on to Lake and Morris. He paid them back the dough they’d staked him to but they still figured he was double-crossing them. They as much as told him last week they were going to give him the business.” He grimaced, wagged his head a little. “And last night they didn’t do anything else.”

“Why didn’t you tell the cops all this?”

“That’s easy. I don’t want a job on the cops, I want a job with International.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Incidentally, you didn’t happen to knock Levy off, yourself, did you?”

For a moment Manners looked startled. He said, “You serious?”

“No,” I said. “That was just to keep conversation going.”

“Oh.” He dripped sarcasm and I couldn’t blame him. “Well, on that basis, sure. I polished him off so Gerda could lose her job at forty a week and I could lose mine at seventy-five bucks. You see, I figured I’d blackmail Kirkwood, so the first thing I did was blab all I knew to the dick that was working for him. It was kind of hard for me because I put in the whole evening lifting beer at the Lotsatime Café until fifteen minutes or so before I got back to the house. But I managed to shoot him from the café, using mirrors.”

“Oh, well,” I said. “I was just keeping the record clear. If I wanted to locate Morris and Lake, what kind of guys would I look for and where would I look?”

He described the pair, said, “I don’t know where they hang out but maybe I can find out for you. Now how about that job?”

I told him I’d put in a word with Tim Harper and he got up to go. I was amused at this kid craving to be a dick.

At the door, I said, “There’s one thing I’ve been wondering about. Levy had a packing case full of the three apes. What was he doing, starting a curio shop?”

Manners grinned. “Levy was as nutty about his cult as any of his suckers. He was going to pass the monkeys out the way Rockefeller did dimes. It might have been a good publicity stunt, at that.”

That sounded nutty to me but no nuttier than the rest of the case so I forgot the apes. What I wanted was the letters and I had a notion that if I could locate Skip Morris and Harry Lake, I’d be locating the letters. When I got the letters, I’d toss the mugs to the cops and ease out of the picture.

So I phoned a little redhead who works the cocktail bars on Figueroa and on West Seventh.