He went into the bathroom, leading off his office. He spent some time holding a sponge of cold water against his burning face, his eyes still hot and intent, his mind busy.
What a guy that Baird was, he thought. Not a nerve in his body! ‘If I want anything I damn well get it,’ he had said, and it was true. Working with a fell a like Baird meant big-time, Rico told himself. It was dangerous, but look what he stood to gain! He gently patted his face dry. He felt no anger or animosity against Baird for hitting him. It was just another proof of his strength of purpose. Baird was like no other crook who came to Rico. No one else would have dared to touch Rico.
Rico adjusted his tie, smoothed down his thinning hair and went back to the office.
He came to a standstill just inside the door, fear clutching at his heart.
Seated in the red leather chair, chewing a dead cigar, was a short, thickset man with a red, freckled face, sandy hair and wide-set, cold, green eyes. He had on a grey suit, a little baggy at the knees and shiny at the elbows; a nigger brown hat rested far to the back of his head.
‘Hello, Rico,’ he said, eyeing Rico’s face with his bleak, green eyes. ‘Who’s been knocking you around?’
Rico smiled stiffly; his mouth felt frozen.
‘How did you get in here, Lieutenant?’ he asked, coming to the desk. ‘I haven’t seen you in weeks.’
Lieutenant George Olin of the Homicide Bureau crossed one thick leg over the other, took the cigar out of his mouth and stared at it with an expression of disgust. He tossed it into Rico’s trash basket, produced a cigar-case, selected another cigar and put the case back in his pocket.
‘I sneaked in,’ he said, staring at Rico. ‘I hoped to catch you on the wrong foot. Have I?’
Rico tried to laugh. The croaking sound he made deceived neither himself nor Olin.
‘I’m very careful where I put my feet,’ he said, and sat down. ‘What’s on your mind, Lieutenant?’
‘Suppose you tel me,’ Olin said. ‘Had any visitors within the past half-hour?’
Rico poured himself another drink while his mind worked swiftly. Had there been a patrolman watching the club? He didn’t want to admit Verne Baird had just left, but if the club was being watched, and Baird had been seen leaving, it would be awkward to be caught in a lie. But as lying came more naturally to him than telling the truth, he decided to lie.
‘I haven’t had anyone in here,’ he said careful y. ‘The club doesn’t open until eight.’ He glanced at the desk clock. The time was twenty minutes past seven. ‘I’ve been working. Of course, anyone could have come into the restaurant without me knowing: like you did.’
Olin grinned sourly. He knew all about Rico. He knew he was itching to move out of small-time into big-time. He had been watching Rico for months now, waiting for a false move.
‘Still playing it close to your chest, Rico? One of these days you’re going to lie yourself into the gas chamber. I hope I’m there to spit in your eye before they close the door.’
Rico continued to smile, but his eyes shifted uneasily. Even when spoken about in jest, death had a horror for him.
‘What’s biting you, Lieutenant? You sound a little sour tonight. Have a drink?’
Olin shifted his squat figure to make himself more comfortable.
‘I don’t drink on duty,’ he said, rubbing his fleshy jaw. ‘Who hit you — Baird?’
Rico was expecting something like that, but although he was prepared he couldn’t conceal a little start that told Olin all he wanted to know.
‘One of the girls,’ Rico said, and lifted his shoulders. ‘I thought she was a pushover, but I made a mistake. The little devil hit me with a hair-brush.’
‘Good for her,’ Olin said. ‘Where is she? Maybe I could persuade her to make a charge against you.’
Rico laughed.
‘She went home. There was nothing to it, Lieutenant. It happens every day. But why bring Baird into this?’
‘Has he been here tonight?’
‘I haven’t seen him,’ Rico said, shaking his head. ‘I haven’t seen anyone but you tonight.’
‘And your pushover friend,’ Olin said.
‘Well, yes…’
Olin lit his cigar, puffed contentedly for a moment, took the cigar from between his teeth and blew gently at the glowing end.
‘About a couple of hours ago,’ he said, looking at Rico, ‘Jean Bruce, the actress, in case you don’t know, left her house to attend some shindig at the Martineau Galleries. Between her house and the end of the drive, she was held up and robbed. An emerald and diamond bracelet worth five grand was stolen.
From the way the stick-up was staged, it’s my bet Baird did it. There was a prowl car within twenty yards of the robbery, and the officers didn’t see or hear a thing in spite of the fact it was done in broad daylight. Baird specialises in that kind of recklessness. He’s been hanging around this club for the past few months, so I thought I’d drop in and see if you and he were dividing the spoils.’
Rico sipped his whisky, patted his thin lips with a stiff linen handkerchief and stared back at Olin, his eyes intent and sick looking. At this moment he wished he had never had anything to do with Baird.
‘Couldn’t she identify him?’ he asked. ‘He’s big enough. I don’t like that last remark of yours, Lieutenant. You can’t talk that way to me.’
Olin tapped ash on to the carpet. He showed his teeth in a mirthless smile.
‘Can’t I? Who’s going to stop me? The reason why she can’t identify Baird is because he murdered her!’
Rico gulped, and his smile slipped. He thought with horror of the bracelet in the safe.
‘Murdered her?’ he croaked. ‘How do you know Baird did it? What proof have you got?’
‘He’s a killer,’ Olin said quietly. ‘I’ve rubbed around with crooks long enough to know who will kill and who won’t. Ever since Baird blew into town I’ve been watching him. I knew sooner or later he’d break loose and kill someone. He’s dangerous, Rico. Up to now you’ve played around with the little punks, but Baird isn’t a little punk. He’s a kil er. Take my tip and keep clear of him. The guy who tries to pass that bracelet is booking himself a one-way ride to the gas-box.’
Rico felt a cold chill run up his spine. He hurriedly gulped down the rest of the whisky.
‘I’ve never been in trouble,’ he said, his face twitching. ‘You’ve nothing on me. You never have, and you never will have.’
Olin made a weary gesture.
‘Don’t be a sucker, Rico. You haven’t a bad little club here. You’re making nice money. Keep clear of guys like Baird. If you know anything about the bracelet, now the time to spill it. Why do you think I came here? Ask yourself why I didn’t send a couple of my boys to pull you in and push you around just for the hell of it. I’l tell you why. I’m ready to do a deal with you, Rico. There’s going to be a hell of a stink when the press hears this Bruce woman’s been knocked off. I want it cleaned up quick. If you know anything about it, spill it, and I’l keep you out of it. That’s a promise. I don’t want you: I want Baird!’
Rico felt a sweat trickle down the back of his neck. He knew he could trust Olin, but if he fingered Baird, and Baird heard about it before Olin could reach him, Rico’s life wouldn’t be worth a damn.
Olin, who had been watching him closely, guessed what was going on in his mind.
‘We’ll pick him up in a few days. In the meantime, if you’d feel happier, I could tuck you away in a nice safe cell. Come on, Rico, get smart. It was Baird, wasn’t it?’
Rico made up his mind. For the past year now he had dealt with petty crooks, making a nice side-line in stolen property. Baird was his first big client. He had made a lot of money out of his transactions with Baird during the past months. Besides, if he fingered Baird the rest of them would drop him like a hot brick. He wasn’t going to be stampeded just when he was moving into big money.