He's coming over here, Johnny thought. Play a hunch. Morton, Schmorton. This water buffalo is up to no good. What have you got to lose? Play the hunch.
Charles G. Morton apparently didn't like loose ends; he moved away from the counter like a man of action. Chest to chest with Johnny, he looked at him scowlingly. “I know you. What-”
He broke off as Johnny shook his head ever so slightly and tapped the carrying case at his feet with his toe. The big man looked down at it puzzledly. “Ed sent me over,” Johnny told him, trying to put a sense of urgency into his voice.
The opened mouth snapped shut and reopened. “Ed sent you? Ed sent you? Am I going crazy?” He tried to muffle the boom of the thunderous voice. “Is this guy off the hook? Has-” He broke off again as the paneled door swung open to admit Jeff Landry.
One look at Jeff's white, strained face was all that Johnny needed to know that his hunch had been a good one. He picked up his carrying case and put a forceful hand on Charles G. Morton's elbow. “Inside, Tim. Got to straighten this out quietly.”
Unwillingly the big man permitted himself to be shepherded through the door. Jeff Landry looked at Johnny and followed them inside. Johnny closed the door, and stood with his back against it.
“Now suppose you tell me-” Tim Connor began in the familiar shattering roar, then stopped as Johnny raised a hand.
“Jeff.” Johnny's voice was quiet. “Mr. Morton's dog died.
It was a statement.
Jeff looked surprised. “It was a cat, but it died, all right. I called his wife-”
“Poisoned,” Johnny interrupted, again in the flat statement.
“Yes.” Jeff paused. “You knew? How-”
“I didn't know, Jeff.” Johnny moved away from the door, casually. “But Mr. Morton knew. Didn't you, Mr. Morton?”
“What's all this tomfoolery!” “Mr. Morton” glared from Johnny to Jeff and back again. He made up his mind suddenly and advanced on Johnny, the round face dark. “You sucked me in here, wise guy! I-”
The resonant voice died to a gasp as Johnny put a palm in the center of the cream-colored sport jacket and shoved firmly. Tim Connor staggered back on his heels a quick half-dozen steps, his arms flailing the air. Beside Johnny in the narrow corridor Jeff Landry took a quick step forward. “Is this the guy?” he demanded tensely. “Is he the one?”
“Easy, Jeff,” Johnny counseled. He turned back to the big man. “You should have bought a program, Tim. You guessed wrong on the lineup; I'm in the other dugout.”
Bitter anger mottled the moon face. “I won't forget this, Killain. I'll cure you of meddling. I'll drop a ton on you.”
“That's for later. Right now let's clean house here.”
“Right now I'm getting out of here!” Tim Connor fixed his panama more firmly with an impatient tug at the brim. “And God help the man who tries to stop me!”
At his first step Johnny moved fast; he crowded up against the beefy figure, and Tim Connor retreated the step as his right hand darted under the cream-colored jacket. Johnny pivoted on the ball of his left foot and muscle-punched the reaching right arm with a line-drive right-hand smash. The big man's face went white, and his arm dropped limply as his body caromed from the wall. He made no effort to resist as Johnny snaked the snub-nosed revolver from the shoulder sling under the sport coat and tossed it back to Jeff.
Johnny looked at Tim Connor's suddenly shriveled face and at the left hand supporting the right arm. “You're gettin' old, Tim. You're about fifteen years and forty pounds away from gettin' out of here your way. You want to try mine?”
“I'll… get you for this, Killain-” The voice was still deep, but the vibrancy was gone. The heavy body was half crouched forward, but not aggressively; the face looked sick. “I'll… Let's hear your proposition.”
“Conversation.”
Tim Connor considered Johnny. “And?”
“If it reads you walk out of here.”
“Just a damn minute!” Jeff Landry tried to push by the bar of Johnny's extended arm. “If this is the guy that poisoned those animals he's not going to walk out of here!”
“Listen to me, Jeff.” Johnny said it quickly; he pushed the veterinarian back down the corridor and out of Tim Connor's hearing as he lowered his own voice. “You got a lot of money invested here, and you had a close call. We got a break and you're out of the barrel, but you go working this guy over he can tie you up indefinitely with assault charges and damage suits. Use your head.”
“Those animals-” Jeff began stubbornly, and paused. He took a slow step backward. “Get him out of here, then. Fast. Before I change my mind.”
Johnny walked back to Tim Connor. “Let's hear it, Tim.”
The beefy man swallowed visibly. “Hear? What else is to hear? You laid it all out on the drawing board.”
“I want to hear it from you, and right now. That's a soundproof door there, and Jeff is a little restless. Talk.”
“If I do I walk out?”
“If I think I'm hearing it all.”
“I was hired to scare Landry away from this address,” Tim Connor said abruptly. “It figured that a little bad publicity ought to change his mind that his lease couldn't be bought up.” He hesitated, and his eyes went warily to Jeff. He cleared his throat tentatively before continuing. “I sent two people in with dogs which had already been fed a pill set to dissolve in ten to twelve hours. This last time it was a cat.” He hesitated again and shrugged. “That's it; somehow you caught it. I still don't see how-”
“Who hired you?” It was Jeff's voice; Jeff's glasses were in his pocket, and his tone was shrill.
Tim Connor replied promptly as he kept an uneasy eye on Jeff. “Man named Dave Richman.”
Jeff looked at Johnny, who shook his head. “Never heard of him. It figures. This kind of thing filters down from five or six removes away from the operator like Connor here. With a lot of time and trouble and money you might be able to trace it back. You might. There's a better way.”
“There's a way to do it right!” Jeff said it between his teeth, and then his shoulders slumped tiredly and he turned away. “All right; I said it before. Do it your way. Get him out of here.”
Johnny nodded. “You heard the man, Tim. Get lost.” The big man needed no second invitation. With a careful eye on Jeff he sidled to the door and eased himself out into the waiting room. Johnny stepped into the doorway to make sure he kept on going, and he smiled at Jeff as he stepped back inside. “He hit just about three of the high spots on the way across the room.”
“I shouldn't have let him get away with it,” Jeff said leadenly. The fingers of the hand that traced the lean jawline trembled visibly. “Those helpless animals-”
“You did it right, Jeff. You were vulnerable. Still are, until you rivet this down. This is what you want to do-call up… Say, are you listening?”
“I'm listening. Go ahead.”
“Call up your landlord and tell him to send this lawyer around, that you want to talk to him. But do it fast, before this gets back to him. He'll think you want to settle. When you get him in here, the first thing you do is bounce his tail a foot off the floor. Then you tell him about Tim Connor and Dave Richman like you had them stuffed in your hip pocket. Tell him they've blown the whistle on the whole racket. Tell him that the next thing that goes wrong around this place you're comin' after him and nail his ears to the nearest telephone pole. Can you do that?”
“My pleasure, believe me.” Jeff drew a shallow breath. “How can I ever thank you, Johnny? I'm just beginning to realize I'm out from under this nightmare.”
“You're not out till you muzzle this lawyer,” Johnny pointed out. “If you don't make him think he's a hostage he's just going to try something else.” He stooped to pick up the carrying case. “You know who you should really thank? White stuff here.”
“The kitten?”