Jim Hanvey, Detective Read online

  “You sure?”

  “Positive! You know how it is, boys. Jim has got only one weakness and that’s his heart. It’s softer than mush. He fell for that going-straight stuff like a tabby for a fresh box of catnip. Honest, it was a shame to take the money.”

  Johnny grinned.

  “He promised to keep me straight?”

  “Yeh. Reckon it was the first time poor old Jim was ever asked to do anything like that.” Her face clouded. “I sort of hate to put it over on him this way. I’m awful strong for Jim.”

  “So are all of us.” It was Connie Hawes speaking. “But what could we do about it? It was a cinch we’d have trouble with Jim, so the best thing was to throw him off the track.”

  Slim Bolton rose and walked to the window. He spoke without turning.

  “Reckon this stuff ain’t exactly in my line,” he commented; “but I never did understand the reason for wising Jim up. I’m not saying you fellows are wrong, but it looks to me like we are running an unnecessary chance.”

  Johnny Norton made no attempt to conceal his contempt for the slender one.

  “If you had more than one brain in your head, Slim, they wouldn’t have barred you from the steamships. The reason Jim had to know it was this: He’s chief of the detective force of the Bankers’ Protective Association. Bein’ down in this part of the country, it was a dead cinch he’d be called in the minute anything irregular happened.”

  “But nothing irregular——”

  “Nothing irregular me eye! I borrow two hundred thousand dollars on a quarter million dollars’ worth of Liberty Bonds. The banking house sends ’em over to the bank by messenger for rediscount. You fellows bump the messenger and make a get-away with the bonds. Bond robbery from a banking house which is a member of the Bankers’ Protective. Jim Hanvey is called in of course, and first thing he asks is where did they get the Liberty Bonds. And when they tell him that a gent named John Roden Norton borrowed the money he would be most likely to smell a mice; even two or three mices.”

  “But when this happens——”

  “Pff! You fellows are gonna lay low. And Jim already knows all about my borrowing the two hundred thou. He even knows about the Juarez proposition, and at the very moment you fellows are grabbing off the bonds I’ll be with Jim Hanvey. Get that? He not only is gonna be set easy on borrowing the coin, but he’s also gonna be right with me when the fireworks are being shot. What’s the result? I’ve got a clean slate with Jim. I even let him induce me not to raise Torrance’s check—swell chance I’d have raisin’ that bird’s paper—and so Jim will be lovin’ me real sweet and you guys will be beatin’ it to the border with them quarter million dollars in bonds. You fellers will cash ’em in somewheres—”

  “How about the numbers? They ain’t registered bonds, I know, but the minute that many are stolen the banking house will notify the B. P. A. to watch out—”

  Helen of Troy had been too long in the background. She didn’t like it. All her life she had been accustomed to having men stare at her and hang upon her words, and so now she took the floor again and gave explanation to Slim Bolton, who had but recently been impressed into service as the necessary fifth member of the party.

  “I and Happy worked out that game,” she explained. “Happy is awful keen on stocks and bonds and things like that, so he knew that we’d have to watch out for those numbers. So what we’ll do is this: Johnny, here, has already made arrangements for the loan—told the banking house just what he wants the money for—and on Thursday he’s to swap the bonds and his note for the cash. He’s due to be on hand at eleven o’clock in the morning, but he ain’t gonna be. He’s gonna get there about half-past one, the banks in this burg closin’ up at two o’clock. He’ll hand over the bonds to the president of the banking house and that bird will check over the bond numbers with Johnny, Johnny having them written down formal-like on a piece of paper.

  “And here’s the point, Slim: The numbers that Johnny reads out will be the numbers of the bonds all right, but the numbers he reads won’t be the numbers that are written down on this slip of paper.

  “Minute he does that he’s gonna ask the banker to give him the check quick so he can deposit before the bank closes, with the result that the banker will accept that list and will give Johnny’s slip to the bookkeeper for entering in the journal. In other words, the numbers that they’ll enter up won’t be the numbers of the bonds at all, and there won’t be any check when you get away with ’em. Chances are the banking house has already made arrangements to rediscount at one of the big banks, and they’ll be anxious to shoot the collateral right around there; so the whole thing will slip through real pretty.”

  “And if it don’t?” questioned the pessimistic Slim.

  She stamped her foot irritably.

  “Then it’ll simply be a harder matter to dispose of the bonds. They’re in thousand-dollar denominations, and it would take time, but not be dangerous. Anyway you boys are to cash in as soon as you can, shoot the two hundred thousand back to Johnny and then Johnny redeems his bonds and hikes down there to join you. We can’t lose.”

  “Us fellers do the rough work,” commented Connie Hawes. “That ain’t ever been exactly in my line.”

  “I’m putting up the kale, ain’t I?” queried Johnny. “That ought to count some.”

  “It does. But——”

  “But nothing!” snapped Helen of Troy. “The way you boys talk about flunking this thing you almost make me ashamed of being a crook.”

  Meanwhile, in the very limited confines of his room, Jim Hanvey had been doing considerable thinking. He sat as Helen had left him, overflowing the old wicker chair, puffing solemnly upon the long-extinguished stump of his cigar, fat fingers fiddling with his watch chain.

  Jim was interested; so interested that for a few moments he almost forgot the intense heat. He had been asked to keep a crook on the straight and narrow.

  “Gee! Johnny was a good workman in his day. Funny what wimmin will do to a guy.”

  He was surprised that Johnny had remained straight for this length of time. He didn’t blame the lad, of course—was sincerely glad that he had done so. Helen was a woman in a million, just such a one as Jim secretly craved for a wife. She was comfortably large and full-blooded and richly blond. “And wise. I’d hate to be married to a boneheaded dame.” He lighted his cigar stump absently. “Swell-lookin’ frail38 like her could almost make me turn crooked. No wonder she’s kept Johnny straight.”

  More peculiar than that, however, Jim reflected, was the fact that Helen herself had forsaken the rose path. She had been a clever dip39 in her day—none superior—and a smooth worker in other lines. He recalled the Starkman blackmail scheme; they’d never been able to hang a thing on Helen for that—or Johnny either. Old Starkman’s lips had been tightly sealed, and not through indifference to money.

  “That bimbo didn’t love a dollar no more than he did his last pair of pants. Helen sure had him dead to rights, some way.”

  Here was Helen going straight and coming to him for assistance that her husband might not step from the road of rectitude. Jim’s massive head rolled heavily from side to side in wonderment.

  He spent the evening at a movie, finding himself aroused to spontaneous applause at that portion of the picture which disclosed the husband returning home just in time to prevent the elopement of his wife and the chauffeur, the latter having turned out to be an old lover in disguise. There was a saccharine scene which resulted in a dramatic choice between the men, the woman designating her preference by nearly strangling her husband while that gentleman beamed happily upon the discomfited lover as he slunk miserably away, presumably to another household where, perchance, the husband might not return home thus inopportunely.

  Scenes of that sort were vastly impressive to Jim. He hated bad sportsmanship, and the villain-chauffeur in this picture had been a bad sp
ort. Crookedness Jim loved. He admired a clever crook and worshiped a good woman. There was something massively pitiful about the man as he gazed raptly upon the silver screen in the picture show; something inexpressibly sad in his demeanor, his abject loneliness. Jim himself would have been the last person in the world to realize the void in his life. Keen as he was in analysis of others, he was no master of introspection. When he emerged from the picture theater it was in the grip of a warm, sentimental glow. His simple, direct nature had been stirred to the roots. At that moment he desired nothing in life so much as to insure Helen the retention of that happiness which a few brief years of honest living had brought to her.

  The following morning—Wednesday—he visited the banking house of Starnes & Company, where Johnny’s loan was in the process of negotiation. He discovered that Joseph P. Starnes, the president, was handling the matter personally and that Johnny had explained frankly to Mr. Starnes the use to which the money was to be put.

  “It is no concern of mine,” explained Mr. Starnes crisply, “what Mr. Norton does with that money. As a matter of fact, it has been my experience that a professional gambler is highly trustworthy. In the second place there is always the chance that his venture will prove unprofitable, in which case I shall have recourse to my collateral. It is excellent collateral, Mr. Hanvey; as good as money. This house is safe—entirely and thoroughly safe.”

  “H’m! Guess you’re about right, Mr. Starnes. Just wanted to know if you was wise to what this bird wanted the money for.”

  “Of course I am.” Mr. Starnes’ manner was curt. He had an instinctive antipathy to this hulking representative of the Bankers’ Protective Association; had more than once seriously considered suggesting to that organization that the man was mentally unfitted for the responsibility of his position.

  “And if I were not it would make no difference. Liberty Bonds form security which we cannot question.”

  Jim rose.

  “I ain’t gonna argue about it.”

  “There’s nothing to argue.”

  “Certainly not. Of course there ain’t. That’s why I ain’t gonna argue about it.”

  That evening Jim dropped in at the hotel where Johnny and Helen were registered. He telephoned to their room and was bidden to come up. His call abruptly terminated a hectic pinochle game then in progress, leaving Happy Gorman a heavy and disgruntled loser. When Jim entered the room he discovered Johnny playing solitaire and Helen seated by the window, reading a fashion magazine. A significant glance passed between the portly detective and the lavishly blond woman. Johnny rose at sight and posed for a moment with one hand gripping the card table, a slight frown showing.

  “’Lo, Jim.”

  Johnny was a most excellent actor. Apparently he was enormously surprised at the presence of the Gargantuan gentleman who bulked in the doorway. It was Jim who punctured the silence:

  “Ain’t you glad to see me, Johnny?”

  “Why shouldn’t I be?”

  “I’ll bite. Why?”

  “If you think you’ve got anything on me—”

  “Aw, g’wan, Johnny! You know durn well that I know you’ve been goin’ straight since you and Helen got hitched up. Just heard you were in town an’ dropped in for a social chat.”

  Norton appeared relieved. He heaved an impressive sigh and motioned his visitor to a chair.

  As though for the first time, Jim took notice of Helen. He held her two hands in his and stared approvingly.

  “Helen of Troy! By gosh, Helen, you’re prettier than ever! You’ve put on flesh, but you’ve been careful where you put it.”

  “That’s all that counts, isn’t it?”

  “Yep. Some wimmin are downright careless. How’re you an’ Johnny gettin’ along?”

  “Mighty well.”

  “Who you doin’ for a livin’?”

  “The public. Johnny’s been makin’ a book down in New Orleans. It’s a lot of work and a heap of expense, but we’ve managed to make ends meet.”

  Jim eyed the cards longingly.

  “How ’bout a little three-handed game of setback?”

  Chairs were drawn up. They played for a cent a point. It was midnight when Jim paid his losses—eighty-one cents—and rose to go.

  “This is the life,” he commented heartily. Then his face grew serious. “Keep it up, Johnny. There’s nothin’ to this crooked stuff.”

  “I know that, Jim,” returned Norton fervently. “I’m off it.”

  The door closed behind the detective. Assured that he had departed, Johnny crossed the room, took his wife in his arms and implanted a smacking kiss upon her willing lips.

  “Hook, line and sinker!”

  “It is a dirty shame to take him in that way.”

  “Sure! But it’s him or us, and there ain’t any use of it being us. We’ll be on Easy Street when this deal is finished.”

  They slept but lightly that night. The following morning early there was an executive session in Johnny’s room. Slim Bolton was there, pessimistic as ever; Happy Gorman, melancholy but game; Connie Hawes, steely-eyed and emotionless.

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” reassured Johnny. “Everything’s chicken.”40

  “For you—yes.”

  Helen of Troy whirled on the speaker.

  “You can welch41 any time you want. It’s Johnny’s idea and Johnny’s jack.42 If you ain’t game to go through with it——”

  “Aw, dry up, girlie! Who said anything about welching? I just wanted you to know that we aren’t going it blind. If we didn’t need the money so bad——”

  “If people didn’t need money there wouldn’t be any crooks,” she said tartly. “Now let’s check over the plan.”

  They put their heads together and for the next fifteen minutes their earnest voices hummed steadily; five clever—if warped—brains planning the betterment of themselves and the discomfiture of a single, lonely, unwieldy detective.

  “It’s rough,” summarized Happy Gorman, “but it looks like a cinch.”

  They separated. Slim Bolton went to a downtown garage, where he took out a car bought by him three days before. Slim knew more than a thing or two about automobiles, and for two days had been devoting his energies to the task of tuning this car up to the notch of perfect performance. He drove downtown and parked opposite the office building which housed the firm of Starnes & Company, bankers and brokers.

  Slim took his post in the automobile at about eleven o’clock. At 11:30 he was joined by Happy Gorman, strong of arm and melancholy of face.

  At 11:45 Connie Hawes appeared. He was dressed in a loose-fitting tweed suit, his coat tailored with a vent back so as to afford a maximum of action liberty. He nodded briefly to the two men in the car, then strolled around the corner and stationed himself outside a barber shop where he controlled a view of the building which held the Starnes offices. At 1:20 o’clock the figure of Johnny Norton came into view. He was walking up from the main business thoroughfare of the city and carrying a package which the men knew contained the Liberty Bonds. From the corner of his eye he took note of the fact that his three confederates were on duty. He turned into the office building and five minutes later was ushered into the private office of Joseph P. Starnes. That gentleman greeted him effusively, but it was patent, too, that Mr. Starnes was very much on guard.

  “You’re late, Mr. Norton.”

  “Sorry,” explained Johnny suavely. “I overslept, and I’ve been busy checking over these bonds.” He produced a knife and deftly cut the twine which bound the bulky package. “I suppose you have the note prepared.”

  “Yes.”

  Starnes reached for the bonds. His sharp eyes, glittering from beneath bushy brows, inspected them closely. There wasn’t a doubt of their genuineness. He counted them three times. Mr. Starnes was thoroughly reassured. His firm was on the verge of nego
tiating a very profitable loan. They were to receive 7 per cent interest from Johnny, rediscount the bonds at 5 per cent and thus make a clear 2 per cent profit, plus brokerage commission, without the embarrassment of tying up any of their cash reserve.

  “Amount correct?” questioned Johnny crisply.

  “Yes.”

  Johnny glanced at his watch.

  “It is almost time for the bank to close, Mr. Starnes. If you’ll make out my check for two hundred thousand and let me sign the note—I want to make my deposit today.”

  Starnes reached for a memorandum pad.

  “I’ll have to take these numbers down.”

  Johnny was frigid under the strain.

  “I have a list here, Mr. Starnes. If you will just check the bonds themselves.”

  “Good!”

  Unsuspiciously Joseph P. Starnes checked the numbers on the bonds as Johnny Norton read from the list. It was considerable of a memory feat on Johnny’s part, and he would not have been equal to it save for the fact that he worked with a key system. He read the numbers swiftly, each number that he read being the actual number on a bond which the banker checked off. But the numbers which Johnny called out were not the numbers which he had on his list.

  The hour of two was approaching. Johnny again suggested that he desired to make his deposit that day in the First National. Starnes sounded the buzzer for his bookkeeper.

  “The Norton note, please, and the check.”

  They were duly produced. Starnes innocently reached for the list of bond numbers which Johnny had unostentatiously laid atop the bonds and extended the list to his bookkeeper.

  “See that these are entered up, Mr. Mathews. These are the thousand-dollar Liberties which we have accepted as security for the loan to Mr. Norton here.”

  The bookkeeper departed with the incorrect list of bonds. Johnny Norton was grinning inwardly. He scribbled his name on the note and accepted the Starnes check for two hundred thousand dollars. He shook hands and departed. Slim Bolton and Happy Gorman saw him swing down the street en route to the First National. At two minutes before two o’clock Johnny deposited to his credit the Starnes check. Then he returned to the hotel—and Helen.