The Ace of Spades - Dell Shannon (29 page)

"Not that way," said Angie gently. "In,
Mr. Skyros. Wherever you keep it. Go— "

"Help!" yelled Mr. Skyros, and plunged
sideways and took prudent cover under the dining table. The French
windows crashed in, glass shattering, and Mendoza and Hackett were in
by the shortest route. There was a little scuffle; Mr. Skyros peered
out fearfully, saw Angie safe in the competent grasp of Hackett, and
scrambled out on all fours. "Oh, Lieutenant, so happy I am to
see you— such a thing— this crazy man breaks in, threatens me—
"

"Indeed?" said Mendoza, dexterously picking
Hackett's pocket from behind of his police special and leveling it at
Denny. "How very ungrateful of him, turning on his employer. I
think this is Angie, Art. It's awkward— I've only got one hand—
maybe it'd be expedient to tap him lightly once, just to keep him
quiet while you call up reinforcements. Who this is I don't know, but
we'll sort it out later. Andreas Skyros, I have a warrant for your
arrest on a charge of conspiracy to defraud . . ."

Mr. Skyros sat down in one
of the dining room chairs and mopped his pink bald skull. "Oh,
dear me, it's some mistake, gentlemen," he said mechanically.
But if the truth were told, at the moment he was less alarmed at
future danger than relieved to be rid of Angie.

* * *

Denny, as Goldberg had prophesied, talked. He tangled
himself up in protestations of knowing nothing about any of it, ran
out of lies, and then when they brought Jackie in-picked up in a Main
Street bar without much trouble— he fell all over himself again to
absolve Jackie from any connection. He was useful, filling in details
for them.

Especially as Mr. Skyros, once he knew how deep in
Lydia Bouvardier and Denny had put him, very wisely shut his mouth
and requested a lawyer.

Jackie Donovan was unexpectedly amenable. Indeed, it
almost seemed, as Goldberg said, that he was eager to tie himself
into it, even before the museum director identified him. He drew the
line, however, at taking the responsibility for Domokous— all he'd
done to Domokous, he said, was knock him out. And got called a fool
for it by Skyros. Domokous, walking in on them in Skyros' office that
Monday night, after Donovan's first and only meeting with this
Bouvardier dame—

"In," said Mendoza, "a hot car you'd
picked up out in Exposition Park."

Donovan shrugged and said sure, if he knew so much
about it ....He hadn't had anything to do with taking off Domokous.
Thought Domokous'd found out about the deal, what he'd said then to
Skyros— wanted to be bought off. Skyros acting soft with him,
starting to make up some tale, but Domokous had picked up that list
oil the desk, and well, my God, you could see— sto1y'd been in all
the papers, that stuff pinched, and if he didn't know he'd find out,
seeing those papers— So Donovan had batted him one, that's all,
and got the list away from him— and he'd sort of staggered back,
and let go, and the second time Donovan belted him he passed out—

"A list," said Mendoza. "Of the
collection?" That was stacked up neatly on his desk, twelve big
boxes. He looked, and found the manila folder, and opened it and took
out the list. A number of pages, a thick wad, once stapled at both
top corners— now the right-hand staple missing, torn away with a
sizable corner of the top page. "Always so satisfying to see
deductions proved," he murmured, and took out of its envelope
the little torn scrap of paper found in Domokous' pocket, and laid it
on the top page, matching the corners delicately. "Oh very
pretty."

The edges blended exactly; and the first two top
lines now read sensibly,

No. 1-A cl. F:
Messana,
silver tetradrachm, approximately 400 B.C. Obverse, nymph driving
cart drawn by pair of mules. Reverse, hare with small dolphin.

"Oh, yes, I see. How nice. You didn't notice
that Domokous had torn this away when you grabbed the list from him,
and put it in his pocket— probably quite automatically."

"I didn't have nothing else to do with him, I
didn't— Skyros says, fool, he didn't know nothing, but— "

And Skyros, of course, wasn't talking; and Denny
hadn't been there, nor had Lydia Bouvardier. However, Denny had heard
about it later, and— anxious to get Jackie clear, almost crying at
the necessity to involve his old pal Angie in order to do that— he
told them all about it. Which was nothing but heresay evidence, but
there were things to do about that too . . .

Because after a fix, Angelo felt just fine, and
amiably answered all their questions. Sure, he'd done this little
favor for Skyros, so long as Skyros gave him a rebate on the stuff he
used. Skyros' idea it was, make it look like the guy was a user, just
took too big a jolt one time,'s all . . . it happens, and nobody pays
much attention. Jackie, he had the guy in this car he'd hopped—
Skyros, no, sir, he wasn't there— left it to Jackie— no, sir,
why'd they go through his pockets? Skyros hadn't said to— no need—
Skyros, he wanted him found, as who he was, and pretty soon. Planted
an old hypo on him, sure, stuck him up a little, make it look good—
open and shut ....

"
Terminar
,"
said Mendoza. "And don't tell me that any middling smart lawyer
is going to claim self-condemnation, the confession for the fix. That
I know. We'll just have to hope the judge has a little common sense
and realizes it's a time and place to forget about the letter of the
law. And what's the odds? If he gets off on the long count, he won't
get off all the way— they'll send him for a cure— waste of the
taxpayers' money— and I'll give you odds, if he does get off clear
after that, in six months he'll have killed himself the way he killed
Domokous. What is it they say about the mills of the gods?"

And Callaghan said philosophically, "Well, you
can have Skyros. He's out of my hair, and when you've got enough on
him to make it accessory to homicide, that'll put him away longer
than a dope charge could. If the judge has got any sense at all—
which I sometimes doubt any of 'em have."

And Goldberg said, "Well, I guess you've got the
Donovans, a heavier charge than I could make, but I'd lay a bet that
Denny anyway won't get as much of the book thrown at him as Jackie,
and some day he'll be loose to make a little more trouble for me. All
in the day's work . . ."

And Alison said thoughtfully, "I really think
I'll have to get a new car. The idea of them transporting that poor
man's body in it— What a funny complicated business it's been."

"Until we found out about it," said
Mendoza. "Then, very ordinary. Just the way it came to light
that made it look unusual at first." He sighed. "Now and
then I wish something a little different would come along— one of
those really interesting, bizarre, complicated cases out of a
detective novel .... But not in this weather. Say along in December
or January. Which reminds me— "

Alison got up, tugged the curtains farther aside in
the hope of slightly better air. "It should begin to cool off a
little now the sun's down. Would you like a drink?"

"Not that kind— rather have some iced coffee."

"So would I, I'll get it." . . . He
followed her out to the kitchen, and there was a slight delay in
filling the glasses. "Here," said Alison at last, "the
ice is melting, idiot, let me go. Very bad timing— between getting
it out and putting in the glasses— if you'd just think a little
about these things— "

Mendoza swore as he hit his hand on the drainboard.
"Damn this thing. They're taking the stitches out tomorrow, did
I tell you?"

"I don't know that I should leap for joy to hear
it, you're bad enough with one hand." She was struggling with
the ice cubes, which hadn't melted enough to slide out easily.

"Stop fussing with that a minute and listen,
I've got something important to ask you,
chica
.... No, I can't talk to your back, damn it— turn around here—
this is serious, now."

"Yes," said Alison. Her heart gave a little
extra beat. She laid down the ice tray.

"I want you to think about it and be sure,"
he said.

"Yes." She turned around to face him. He
was looking very serious and solemn. "What— what is it?"

"Would you like a half-Abyssinian kitten for
Christmas?"