Jane Marlow said desperately, “I presume that when Mr. Findlay told you to call the FBI office in Los Angeles, he gave you the number so you wouldn’t have to waste time getting it through an operator, didn’t he?”
“Why not?” the sheriff said, smiling good-humoredly. “He’d be a hell of an FBI man if he didn’t know his own telephone number.”
The fat man fished a cigar from his pocket. Biting off the end and scraping a match into flame, he winked at the sheriff.
Howard Kane said to Findlay, “Mind if I ask a question?”
“Hell no. Go right ahead.”
“I’d like to know something of the facts in this case. If you’ve been working on the case you’d know...”
“Sure thing,” Findlay agreed, getting his cigar burning evenly. “She worked for Hardwick, who was having an affair with a model. We followed him to the model’s apartment. They had a quarrel. Hardwick’s supposed to have jumped out of the window. She went to his office and took five thousand dollars out of the safe. The money’s in her purse.”
“So she was jealous?”
“Jealous and greedy. Don’t forget she got five grand out of the safe.”
“I was following my employer’s specific instructions in everything I did,” Jane said.
Findlay grinned.
“What’s more,” she blazed, “Frank Hardwick wasn’t having any affair with that model. He was lured to her apartment. It was a trap and he walked right in.”
Findlay said, “Yeah. The key we found in his vest pocket fitted the apartment door. He must have found it on the street and was returning it to the owner as an act of gallantry.”
The sheriff laughed.
Howard Kane glanced speculatively at the very young woman. “She doesn’t look like a criminal.”
“Oh, thank you!” she blazed.
Findlay’s glance was patronizing. “How many criminals have you seen, buddy?”
Doxey rolled a cigarette. His eyes narrowed against the smoke as he squatted down cowboy fashion on the backs of his high-heeled riding boots. “Ain’t no question but what she’s the one who jimmied the safe, is there?”
“The money’s in her purse,” Findlay said.
“Any accomplices?” Buck asked.
“No. It was a combination of jealousy and greed.” Findlay glanced inquiringly at the sheriff.
“I’ll fly in and send that car out,” the sheriff said.
“Mind if I fly in with yuh and ride back with the deputy, Sheriff?” Buck asked eagerly. “I’d like to see this country from the air once. There’s a paved road other side of that big mountain where the ranger has his station. I’d like to look down on it. Some day they’ll connect us up. Now it’s an hour’s ride by horse...”
“Sure,” the sheriff agreed. “Glad to have you.”
“Just give me time enough to throw a saddle on a horse,” Doxey said. “Kane might want to ride out and look the ranch over. Yuh won’t mind, Sheriff?”
“Make it snappy,” the sheriff said.
Buck Doxey went to the barn and after a few minutes returned leading a dilapidated-looking range pony saddled and bridled. He casually dropped the reins in front of the ranch “office,” and called inside:
“Ready any time you are, Sheriff.”
They started for the airplane. Buck stopped at the car to get a map from the glove compartment, then hurried to join the sheriff. The propeller of the plane gave a half-turn, stopped, gave another half-turn; the motor sputtered, then roared into action. A moment later the plane became the focal point of a trailing dust cloud, then raised and swept over the squat log buildings in a climbing turn and headed south.
Jane Marlow and Kane watched it through the window until it became but a speck.
Howard Kane said, “Now, Mr. Findlay, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Sure, go right ahead.”
“You impressed the sheriff very cleverly,” Kane said, “but I’d like to have you explain...”
“Now that it’s too late,” Jane Marlow blazed indignantly. “You’ve let him...”
Kane motioned her to silence. “Don’t you see, Miss Marlow, I had to get rid of the sheriff. He represents the law, right or wrong. But if this man is an imposter, I can protect you against him.”
Findlay’s hand moved with such rapidity that the big diamond made a streak of glittering light.
“Okay, wise guy,” he said. “Try protecting her against this.”
Kane rushed the gun.
Sheer surprise slowed Findlay’s reaction time. Kane’s fist flashed out in a swift arc, just before the gun roared.
The fat man moved with amazing speed. He rolled with the punch, spun completely around on his heel and jumped back, the automatic held to his body, his eyes glittering with rage.
“Get ’em up,” he said.
The cold animosity of his tone showed that this time there would be no hesitancy.
Slowly Kane’s hands came up.
“Turn around,” Findlay said. “Move over by that window. Press your face against the wall. Give me your right hand, Kane. Now the left hand.”
A smooth leather thong, which had been deftly knotted into a slipknot, was jerked tight, then knotted into a quick half hitch.
The girl, taking advantage of Findlay’s preoccupation, flung herself on him.
The bulk of Findlay’s big shoulders absorbed the onslaught without making him even shift the position of his feet. He jerked the leather thong into a last knot, turned and struck the girl in the pit of the stomach.
She wobbled about for a moment on rubber legs, then fell to the floor.
“Now, young lady,” Findlay said, “you’ve caused me a hell of a lot of trouble. I’ll just take the thing you’re carrying in your left shoe. I could tell from the way you were limping there was something...”
He jerked off the shoe, looked inside, seemed puzzled, then suddenly grabbed the girl’s stockinged foot.
She kicked and tried to scream, but the wind had been knocked out of her.
Findlay reached casual hands up to the top of her stocking, jerked it loose without bothering to unfasten the garters, pulled the adhesive tape off the bottom of the girl’s foot, ran out to the car, and jumped in.
“Well, what do you know!” he exclaimed. “The damn yokel took the keys with him... So there’s a paved road on the other side of the mountains, is there?
“Come on, horse, I guess there’s a trail we can find. If we can’t they’ll never locate us in all that timber.”
Moving swiftly, the fat man ran over to where the horse was standing on three legs, drowsing in the sunlight.
Findlay gathered up the reins, thrust one foot in the stirrup, grabbed the saddle, front and rear, and swung himself awkwardly into position.
Jane heard a shrill animal squeal of rage. The sleepy-looking horse, transformed into a bundle of dynamite, heaved himself into the air, ears laid back along his neck.
The fat man, grabbing the horn of the saddle, clung with frenzied desperation. “Well,” Kane asked, “are you going to untie me, or just stand there gawking?” She ran to him then, frantically tugging at the knot.
The second his hands were freed Kane went into action.
Findlay, half out of the saddle, clung drunkenly to the pitching horse for a moment, then went into the air, turned half over and came down with a jar that shook the earth.
Kane emerged from the cabin holding a rifle.
“All right, Findlay, it’s my turn now,” Kane said. “Don’t make a move for that gun.”
The shaken Findlay seemed to have trouble orienting himself. He turned dazedly toward the sound of the voice, clawed for his gun.
Kane, aiming the rifle carefully, shot it out of his hand.
“Now, ma’am,” Kane said, “if you want to get that paper out of his pocket...”
She ran to Findlay, her feet fairly flying over the ground despite the fact that she was wearing only one shoe and the other foot had neither shoe nor stocking...