“Maybe. But if Louise and I get behind that version and stick to it, they’ll put you away.”
“Nuts. The sonofabitch came at me like a maniac. It was self-defense — an accident. It’s your word against mine.”
“Let’s say it’s the word of a bankrupt third-rate nightclub comic with a shady background against the word of a respected member of the bar and a multimillionaire widow. Whose story would you believe if you were on the jury?”
“Bastard,” Adams hissed without strength. “You want a fall guy and I’m it, hey? Let’s hear it for Frankie Adams, lez an gennulmen, Frankie Adams the ten-carat loser. Jesus H. Christ.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“You’ve got it all set up. Go ahead and pull the rope.”
“No. There’s another way to play it. Unless you want to drag a scandalous mess through the courts and the newspapers and end up with your head in a sack.”
“What are you, kidding?”
“Which way do you want it?”
“What choice have I got?”
“Suppose you and I and Louise were sitting in the front room playing cards when we heard a thud from the back of the house. Suppose we went back to investigate and found Earle had tripped over the rug and fallen and hit the back of his head on the bedpost. Suppose we tell that story and I have a doctor sign the death certificate accidental death.”
Adams sat slack-jawed, watching him warily. “Where you figure to find a doctor to sign something like that?”
“Big money can buy a few harmless lies — and a lot of silence. How about it, Frankie?”
Adams tucked his chin in toward his shoulder like a shy schoolboy trying to remember the answer to a teacher’s question. “What do I have to do?”
“I’ll let you know. In the meantime you don’t say a word to anyone about anything unless you clear it with me first. Fair enough?”
“Listen, the first time I got jumped by three big kids in the playground I learned not to fight a squeeze. Don’t worry about me.”
“I won’t,” Oakley said, and gave him a synthetic smile utterly devoid of trust.
He shepherded Adams back to the office. Louise looked better; there was color in her face and when he crossed the room her eyes followed his movements alertly. Her hands gripped the arms of her chair tightly.
Oakley settled into Earle’s chair and veiled his eyes and spoke in a soft voice which eased up against the cork-lined walls and was immediately absorbed:
“We’ve all heard the tape. I’ve told you what Earle wanted to do. I think he was dead wrong but we’ll see. Diego, what about the tape?”
“I just played it back again. I think the sonabitch meant business. You asking my advice? Usually, a snatch caper like this, you get the cops and the FBI and they tell you to follow instructions and pay the ransom. Rule of thumb is you got a better chance to get the victim back alive if you pay the ransom and don’ rock the boat.”
“Rock the boat,” Adams mumbled, incredulous. “Christ, the boat’s already sunk.”
Oakley ignored him; he said to Orozco, “I get a feeling your next word will be ‘But.’”
“Yeah. She said one of them wants to kill her so she won’t be able to identify them. Does that mean she’s seen all their faces? Or have they got her blindfolded but one of them wants insurance anyway? She knows their voices.”
Louise said, “What difference does that make?”
“Could make a lot, lady. If they keep her blindfolded and she don’t see their faces, maybe they really expect to let loose of her after it’s over. But if they never even bothered to blindfold her it’s a whole different enchilada.”
Oakley shook his head. “We’ll probably have to make our decision without the answer to that question. What about trying to trace the phone calls?”
Orozco’s fleshy dark cheeks sagged. “Maybe... maybe. First thing in the morning I’ll get a tap on the line. These new computer exchanges, sometimes you can get a real fast trace on a call if you’re ready for it. I can get a crew of operatives stand ready to move on signal. Beyond that I just don’ know. You people got to make your own decision about the ransom. I only say this — was it my daughter I wouldn’t take the chance Conniston was going to take. I’d play it by the book whether you bring in cops or not. They’d tell you to play it by the book, believe me.”
“You mean pay the ransom?” Louise asked.
“Yeah. I mean pay the ransom.”
Frankie Adams said, “Isn’t there any other way we could start trying to get a line on them?”
Orozco made a face. “Few honnerd thousand people in this half of Arizona. Where you going to start? That guy on the phone sounded too smart to give away any clues we could use. We got nothing to go on.”
Louise sat up straight. “All of you are forgetting one little thing.”
The determined quiet of her tone drew Oakley’s full attention. Louise looked from face to face; finally she said, “None of you is in any position to decide what’s to be done with Earle’s money. That money belongs to Terry and me. We’re his heirs.”
Oakley closed his eyes down to slits. “You’re saying you don’t want to pay the ransom?”
“I’m saying I think maybe Earle was right. Maybe we’ll stand a better chance by not paying — by frightening them instead.”
“In other words,” Oakley murmured, “Terry’s not worth half a million dollars to you.”
“You make me sound cold-blooded. You know I don’t mean that. The chances are if we pay the ransom we lose both Terry and the money. What’s the good of that?”
Oakley bounced to his feet; the backs of his knees knocked the big swivel-chair back against the wall. “Don’t even think about it, Louise.”
“Are you threatening me?” she demanded.
“If you like. I’ll remind you a criminal forfeits any right to the proceeds of his crime. If you’re found guilty of being accessory to your husband’s murder you won’t inherit a dime — regardless of whether Terry’s alive or dead.”
Her eyes popped at him. “Convicted of—? You can’t be serious!”
“Think about it. An able prosecutor smooth-talking a jury. The young wife of the old millionaire, the wife’s boy friend — both conspiring to murder the old man and live happily ever after on his millions. Strike a chord?”
“It was nothing of the kind.” Her face turned crimson; she looked down at her hands. “What you must think of me.”
Oakley said, “Don’t misunderstand. What I’m saying is that if the circumstances of Earle’s death ever become public knowledge the newspapers will wallow in it and the classic explanation I’ve just suggested is the first thing they’ll assume. You’ll be dragged through slime — it’s the kind of case that’ll be tried and judged by the press long before it ever gets near a courtroom. Is that what you want? Or would you rather none of it ever got into print? Would you rather be grilled mercilessly by a prosecuting attorney hell-bent on making a big reputation at your expense or get scot-free after a few perfunctory routine questions by a bored county official? Would you rather have Earle’s death dragged through the front pages as murder or manslaughter, or have it appear quietly in a black box on the obituary page as an accidental death? Yes, damn it, I am threatening you.”
She studied his face; she glanced at Adams and at Orozco; she said tentatively, “The penalty for blackmail is damned severe, Carl.”
“Ten to twenty years,” Frankie Adams said dryly. “Felony.”
Oakley shook his head. “Am I trying to extort a penny from you? Come off it. I’m trying to get Terry back and I believe the only way to do it is to pay the ransom. I’m using the only weapon I’ve got.”
Louise sank back in her chair. “I suppose I’ve got no choice.”