He ceased speaking to take a deep drag at his heavy cigar, and I said nothing. No answer was necessary. He had spoken only the simple truth, the bare facts.
He withdrew the cigar and let his eyes bore into mine.
“All right. You’ve made a boob of the department long enough. The jig’s up.”
Again he paused.
“Yes?” I asked, casually.
My tone angered him. I could see the flush come to his scraped cheeks.
“Yes. It’s a cinch you’re working. And it’s a cinch you’re holding out on us. Come across with a fifty-fifty split or you’re going bye-bye up San Quentin way.”
“I’m keeping within the law in California,” I said simply.
The words irritated him more than anything I could have said.
“Well, what if you are, you damned fool? Does that make any gravy for me? What’d yuh think this is, a summer resort? I don’t give a whoop in hell about your record or your intentions. I want fifty per cent of the gravy; and if you ain’t gettin’ it I’m losin’ fifty per cent just the same as though you was holdin’ out on me.”
I shrugged my shoulders. It was the same old line. I’d heard it so much that my ears were as weary of it as of last year’s popular song.
“Yes, you have no bananas,” I said, knowing that this man and myself were bound to become sworn enemies after this interview.
His face became fairly livid.
“All right, you cheap, second-story crook. Try that line and see what I hang on to you. D’yuh think I give a damn whether you’re within the law or not? I’ll frame a crime on you that’ll get a jury to send you up in ten seconds after the case reaches ’em. You don’t dare even take the witness stand with the record that’s against you. You’ve got to do what I say and do it damned quick.”
He was right as to part of it, wrong as to the rest. The law is a strange assortment of injustices. When a man has once been convicted of crime he becomes absolutely within the power of the police. Charge him with crime and he is done for. Of course the law says that the District Attorney cannot introduce any evidence of prior convictions. Oh, no. That would not be right. The jury must pass on the man’s guilt or innocence of the particular crime for which he is being tried. But the law also says that when a “witness” is on the stand he can be impeached as to his testimony by showing that he has been previously convicted of a felony. That makes it delightfully simple for the police. They frame a charge on an ex-convict. If he sits silent the jury convicts him because he didn’t deny the charges that were made against him. If he takes the stand to declare his innocence, he becomes a “witness,” and the District Attorney smirkingly “impeaches” his testimony by showing that he’s been convicted of a felony. It’s a fine game, the law. And it’s played according to a complicated set of rules; but, as to me, those rules are all one way. Heads, the police win. Tails, I lose.
Bob Garret’s face drew even closer and another shower of cigar ashes sprinkled over my food.
“There are two gangs that need you here in the city. Both of ’em are in right. Both of ’em need a good box man. You’re it. You make your choice right here and now. Either you tie up with ’em and I get my split, or you wish you had.”
I motioned to the waiter.
“Bring me another order of chicken noodles as soon as this gentleman has finished with his cigar.”
Bob Garret sat back in his chair with a smile.
“Think you can get my goat, eh? All right. Now let me tell you something. Helen Chadwick’s on her way to jail.”
I had been half way expecting something like that, and I had nerved myself for it. I believe my face retained its expression without so much as a change of color.
“Who’s she? Someone I know?”
The detective gave a sneering laugh and I noticed that his eyes had dropped to my hands.
“Oh, yes,” he mocked. “Is she someone you know? That’s good,” and he pointed his finger.
I lowered my own eyes, looked at my hands. Unconsciously I had gripped my left hand, had bent one of the composition spoons almost double. Even now the skin showed white as paper across my knuckles.
“Now I’ll go on from there,” he gloated, fairly radiating confident assurance. “It happens we need you in our business. We never could get a strangle-hold on you until you and the skirt fell for each other. Then it was a cinch. She’s way up in society, one of the four hundred, but she hasn’t got any political influence. Her dad’s dead. Just her and her mother, and the old woman s not lastin’ long. She got mixed up with you just enough so we could prove that she knows you, that she posed as being engaged to you once, out at Loring Kemper’s. That’ll make a fine background for what we’re going to frame on her.”
I interrupted him. Knowing in advance that it was hopeless, I tried it, nevertheless.
“Leave her out of it. She never really cared for me, nor I for her. She was being blackmailed, and it would have killed her mother. I was able to help her out of it, and she had to pose as being engaged to me to trap the blackmailer. That’s all there was to that. She’s straight as a string. Leave her out of it.”
How he laughed, the sneering laugh of those who have power to control the destinies of others.
“Don’t make me laugh so hard, Jenkins. I got a sore lip. Sure, I know all about that end of the game, all about the blackmailing business. That don’t bother me. What I want is gravy, jack, mazuma. Get me? I want fifty per cent of the take, and when there ain’t any take there ain’t any fifty per cent. Get that? All right. I’ve never been able to control you before, but I can now. Helen Chadwick’s the weak link in your chain.
“No, don’t interrupt. Listen. Tonight Helen Chadwick is the guest of Paul Boardman and his wife. You know Boardman. He’s the real power behind the throne in city politics. Whenever he wants anything he gets it. Here’s something you don’t know. The Chief of Police is bucking Boardman, knows something about the inside of some of the deals. Boardman is in with the ring that gets the split on the gravy. I’m in with Boardman. Together we’re playing the cards to get the scalp of the Chief. I’m going in as the next Chief. It’s all slated.”
I looked at the man in surprise. Strive as I might to control my features, I could hardly keep my eyes from widening. Such information placed him in my power to some extent, even if I was a crook and he a police official. The Chief would probably credit the information if I should spill it to him. Garret must be crazy to tell me so much of the inside affairs of city politics.
He saw my expression and laughed outright, a gloating laugh of triumph. And then I knew. He felt he was safe in telling me anything he wanted to because I was not slated to leave that room alive unless I threw my lot in with his, be came a part of the criminal ring that was splitting the “gravy” fifty-fifty with the insiders.
“Don’t worry, Jenkins. You’ll never be able to use the information I’m giving you. Here’s some more. Helen Chadwick believes that Paul Boardman is framing a crime on you, that you’ve walked into the trap and are scheduled for the stir. But she also believes that the papers that’ll show your innocence are upstairs in Boardman’s open safe. Figure it out for yourself. She thinks the safe has been carelessly left open and that there’s a lock box in it that’ll keep you out of the pen. Good, eh?
“The trap’s all laid. When she walks up the stairs tonight she’ll be followed. Witnesses are planted in the room. The safe is coated with a special preparation that’ll hold her fingerprints like fresh varnish. In addition there’s a camera all set with a flashlight so that she’ll be photographed in front of the safe, rummaging through its contents.