Killer's Payoff полностью

But assuming that Kramer had followed a similar modus operandi with Lucy Mencken, could he not have mailed her a photo and negative each time he received her $500 check? Thirty-six negatives and prints at $500 a throw amounted to $18,000. It was conceivable that Kramer had hit upon this easy payment plan simply because $18,000 in one bite was pretty huge for the average person to swallow. Especially if that person is trying to keep something secret. You don’t just draw $18,000 from the bank and say you bought a few new dresses last week.

Then, too-in keeping with Kramer’s M.O.-could he not have been planning on a lifetime income? In the same way that he could have had a limitless number of copies of the letter to Schlesser, could he not also have had a limitless number of glossy prints-all capable of being reproduced in a newspaper-of the Mencken photos? And could he not, when the last negative was delivered, then say he had prints to sell at such and such a price per print?

Had Lucy Mencken realized this?

Had she killed Sy Kramer?

Perhaps.

And now there was a new aspect to the case. Lucy Mencken was certain that someone else had come into possession of the photos. She had undoubtedly learned this during the past few days, and the first thing she’d done was to visit Blier and then Kramer, the magazine editor. Did someone now hold those photos, and had this someone contacted Lucy in an attempt to pick up the extortion where it had ended with Sy Kramer’s death? And who was this someone?

And-if Lucy had caused the death of Sy Kramer-could not this new extortionist provoke a second murder?

Hawes nodded reflectively.

It seemed like the time to put a tap on Lucy Mencken’s phone.

THE MAN FROM THE telephone company was colored. He showed telephone-company credentials to Lucy Mencken when she opened the door for him. He told her they’d been having some trouble with her line and he might have to make minor repairs.

The man’s name was Arthur Brown, and he was a detective attached to the 87th Squad.

He put bugs on the three telephones in the house, carrying his lines across the back of the Mencken property, where they crossed the road and fed into a recorder in a supposed telephone-company shack on the other side of the road. The machine would begin recording automatically whenever any of the phones was lifted from its cradle. The machine would record incoming calls and outgoing calls indiscriminately. Calls to the butcher, calls from relatives and friends, angry calls, personal calls-all would be recorded faithfully and later listened to in the squadroom. None of the recorded information would be admissible as court evidence.

But some of it might lead to the person or persons who were threatening Lucy Mencken anew.

WHEN MARIO TORR stopped by at the squadroom, Bert Kling was on the phone talking to his fiancee. Torr waited outside the railing until Kling was finished talking. He looked at Kling expectantly, and Kling motioned him to enter. As before, Torr was dressed in immaculate mediocrity. He went to the chair beside Kling’s desk and sat in it, carefully preserving the crease in his trousers.

“I just thought I’d stop by to see how things were going along,” he said.

“Things are going along fine,” Kling said.

“Any leads?”

“A few.”

“Good,” Torr said. “Sy was my friend. I’d like to see justice done. Do you still think this was a gang rumble?”

“We’re working on a few possibilities,” Kling said.

“Good,” Torr answered.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d taken a fall, Torr?”

“Huh?”

“One-to-two at Castleview for extortion. You did a year’s time and were paroled. How about it, Torr?”

“Oh, yeah,” Torr said. “It must’ve slipped my mind.”

“Sure.”

“I’m straight now,” Torr said. “I got a good job, been at it since I got out.”

“Sand’s Spit, right?”

“Right. I’m a laborer. I make about ninety bucks a week. That’s pretty good money.”

“I’m glad,” Kling said.

“Sure. There’s no percentage in crime.”

“Or in bad associates,” Kling said.

“Huh?”

“A man going straight shouldn’t have had a friend like Sy Kramer.”

“That was strictly social. Look, I believe a guy’s business is his own business. I don’t like to mess. He never talked about his business, and I never talked about mine.”

“But you figured he was working something, right?”

“Well, he always dressed nice and drove a fancy car. Sure, I figured he was working something.”

“Did you ever meet his floozy?”

“Nancy O’Hara? Mr. Kling, that ain’t a floozy. If you ever met her, you wouldn’t call her no floozy. Far from it.”

“Then you did meet her?”

“Once. Sy was drivin’ by with her in the Caddy. I waved to him, and he stopped to say hello. He introduced her.”

“She claims she knew nothing about his business. Do you buy that, Torr?”

“I buy it. Who says a woman needs brains? All the brains she needs is right between-”

“That makes two of you who didn’t know anything about Sy’s business.”