looking at the suitcase. As far as I knew I had never seen it before. There was a tie-on label hanging from the handle. It had my name on it, and it was written in my handwriting.
I tried the locks, but they didn't budge. They were good, strong locks, and they'd need a lot of breaking open.
"That's a nice-looking case," Maddux said, watching me closely.
"Yeah, but I've lost the key. Got a screw-driver handy?"
I saw his look of suspicion, but I ignored it.
"You don't want to bust the locks," he said. "I've got a hicky that'll open it."
"Get it," I said.
He went off as if he were jet-propelled.
I stood looking at the suitcase, fighting down a feeling of fear and excitement. Would this case contain the key to the missing forty-five days? Had I bought it or had I stolen it?
Maddux returned in six minutes. They seemed like six hours to me.
He bent over the case, screwed a bit of metal into the lock, twisted it and the lock flew up. He did the same to the other lock, then stood back.
"Easy, once you know how," he said.
I gave him the twenty I'd promised him.
"See you tomorrow," I said, anxious to get rid of him.
He looked longingly at the case, backed to the door, then hesitated.
"Well, if that's all, I guess I'll get downstairs."
"That's all."
The moment he closed the door I shot the bolt. Then I turned to the bed. I took hold of the lid of the case and threw it open.
I don't know what I expected to see, but certainly not what I did see. The case was crammed with money: thousands and thousands of dollars; more money than I had ever seen in my life.
For a long moment of time I stood staring. Then very carefully and with shaking hands I lifted the fat, neat packages on to the bed until the case was empty. There was nothing else in the case - just the money. A quarter of a million in hundred-dollar bills!
I understood then why Ricca had been so anxious to find the money. A quarter of a million! How did it get into the case? Where had it come from?
I suddenly felt horribly faint, and I put my hand on the bed-rail to steady myself. My knees sagged, and I flopped down on the floor. But not for one moment did I take my eyes off that money.
A quarter of a million dollars!
A motive for murder! Had I really murdered two men and a woman for this? Was that what I had done?
VI
If I hadn't been suspected of murder I wouldn't have touched that money. I would have taken the suitcase to Riskin and let him handle it, but what had I to lose? If I did hand over the suitcase to Riskin I might be handing him the motive he was hunting for to pin the murder rap on me. If I were caught with it, it wouldn't make much difference, if any. I was wanted for murder, nothing else mattered.
I wanted money to make an investigation. Well, I had a quarter of a million dollars and I was going to use it.
Once I had made up my mind to use it, everything became simple. I bought Maddux, and I bought the bald-headed reception clerk. Maddux cost me a hundred bucks. The clerk became co-operative for a mere fifty. Both of them found out who I was when they read the morning papers. The papers gave my name and an accurate description of me.
"This man is wanted for questioning concerning the murder of an unknown woman," said the account. "Anyone recognizing him from the description given above should communicate immediately with Lieutenant Bill Riskin of the Homicide Bureau."
But they didn't offer a reward, so the clerk and Maddux weren't interested. They were only interested in my welfare and my dollars.
I remained in the hotel bedroom for two weeks: time for my hair to grow over the scar and for me to raise a moustache. A moustache and a pair of horn spectacles changed my appearance considerably. Only a trained observer like Riskin could have spotted me. I was sure I had nothing to fear from the man in the street who might have read the police description.
I told Maddux I wanted a car and a gun. He got me a
I tried the locks, but they didn't budge. They were good, strong locks, and they'd need a lot of breaking open.
"That's a nice-looking case," Maddux said, watching me closely.
"Yeah, but I've lost the key. Got a screw-driver handy?"
I saw his look of suspicion, but I ignored it.
"You don't want to bust the locks," he said. "I've got a hicky that'll open it."
"Get it," I said.
He went off as if he were jet-propelled.
I stood looking at the suitcase, fighting down a feeling of fear and excitement. Would this case contain the key to the missing forty-five days? Had I bought it or had I stolen it?
Maddux returned in six minutes. They seemed like six hours to me.
He bent over the case, screwed a bit of metal into the lock, twisted it and the lock flew up. He did the same to the other lock, then stood back.
"Easy, once you know how," he said.
I gave him the twenty I'd promised him.
"See you tomorrow," I said, anxious to get rid of him.
He looked longingly at the case, backed to the door, then hesitated.
"Well, if that's all, I guess I'll get downstairs."
"That's all."
The moment he closed the door I shot the bolt. Then I turned to the bed. I took hold of the lid of the case and threw it open.
I don't know what I expected to see, but certainly not what I did see. The case was crammed with money: thousands and thousands of dollars; more money than I had ever seen in my life.
For a long moment of time I stood staring. Then very carefully and with shaking hands I lifted the fat, neat packages on to the bed until the case was empty. There was nothing else in the case - just the money. A quarter of a million in hundred-dollar bills!
I understood then why Ricca had been so anxious to find the money. A quarter of a million! How did it get into the case? Where had it come from?
I suddenly felt horribly faint, and I put my hand on the bed-rail to steady myself. My knees sagged, and I flopped down on the floor. But not for one moment did I take my eyes off that money.
A quarter of a million dollars!
A motive for murder! Had I really murdered two men and a woman for this? Was that what I had done?
VI
If I hadn't been suspected of murder I wouldn't have touched that money. I would have taken the suitcase to Riskin and let him handle it, but what had I to lose? If I did hand over the suitcase to Riskin I might be handing him the motive he was hunting for to pin the murder rap on me. If I were caught with it, it wouldn't make much difference, if any. I was wanted for murder, nothing else mattered.
I wanted money to make an investigation. Well, I had a quarter of a million dollars and I was going to use it.
Once I had made up my mind to use it, everything became simple. I bought Maddux, and I bought the bald-headed reception clerk. Maddux cost me a hundred bucks. The clerk became co-operative for a mere fifty. Both of them found out who I was when they read the morning papers. The papers gave my name and an accurate description of me.
"This man is wanted for questioning concerning the murder of an unknown woman," said the account. "Anyone recognizing him from the description given above should communicate immediately with Lieutenant Bill Riskin of the Homicide Bureau."
But they didn't offer a reward, so the clerk and Maddux weren't interested. They were only interested in my welfare and my dollars.
I remained in the hotel bedroom for two weeks: time for my hair to grow over the scar and for me to raise a moustache. A moustache and a pair of horn spectacles changed my appearance considerably. Only a trained observer like Riskin could have spotted me. I was sure I had nothing to fear from the man in the street who might have read the police description.
I told Maddux I wanted a car and a gun. He got me a
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