Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Hat-trick
Ned Beaumont, wearing an ill-fitting hat, followed the porter carrying his own luggage through Grand Central Terminal to the Forty-second Street exit and hailed a maroon cab .He tipped the porter, got into a taxi, told the driver the name of a restaurant in the forties off Broadway, and leaned back in his seat to light a cigar.He spent more time chewing on cigars than smoking as taxis weaved through the crowded theater district around Broadway.
On Madison Avenue, a green cab making an illegal turn squeezed all of Ned Beaumont's maroon vehicle into a collision with another parked car.Ned was thrown hard into a corner of the carriage, covered in broken windows.
He struggled to his feet and climbed out of the car to join the crowd.He answered a police questioning, claiming he was not injured.Then he retrieved the ill-fitting hat and put it back on.He loaded his luggage into another taxi, told the driver of the second taxi the name of the hotel, and leaned back into the corner, pale and trembling throughout the drive.
After checking in at the hotel, he asked the counter if there was any letter from him, and got two voicemail slips and two sealed but unstamped envelopes.
He ordered the porter who was helping him with his luggage to bring him a pint of rye whiskey.After the doorman left, he turned the lock and read the note.Both were from that day, one marked 4:50 pm, the other 8:05 pm.He looked at his watch. It was eight forty-five.
The earlier note reads: "At Gargley's." The second reads: "At Tom and Jerry's. Will call back later." The signatures at the bottom of both are "Jack".
He opened an envelope, and there were two pieces of letter paper in rough and stiff handwriting, dated yesterday.
The same handwriting was also on the letter paper in the other envelope, and the date was the same day.
Both letters were signed "Jack".
Ned Beaumont washed and changed into clean linen from a bag.While the cigars were lit, the doorman brought him whiskey rye.He tipped, fetched a tumbler from the bathroom, and dragged the chair to the bedroom window.He sat there, smoking, drinking, staring across the street until the phone rang.
"Hello," he said into the phone, "yes, Jack... just got... where?... No problem... Of course, I'll be right over."
He took another sip of whiskey, put on the ill-fitting hat, picked up his coat which was slung over the back of a chair, put it on, patted the top pocket, turned off the light, and went out the door.
It was ten past nine.
Not far from Broadway, a lit sign reads "Tom and Jerry."Ned Beaumont stepped through the double glass doors beneath the signboard into a narrow hallway.On the left wall is a door that pushes in, leading to a small dining room.
A man stood up from a table in the corner and pointed his index finger up at him.The man was of medium height, young and trim, with a dark, well-cut face and rather handsome features.
Ned Beaumont walked towards him. "Hello, Jack," he said as they shook hands.
"They're upstairs, the girl and the Brooks," Jack told him. "If you're sitting here with your back to the stairs, you should be fine. If they're going out or Bernie comes in, I can see them. And there are so many people here, he can't see you."
Ned Beaumont sat down at Jack's table. "They were waiting for him?"
Jack shrugged. "I don't know, but they seem to be passing the time. Want something to eat? You can't drink downstairs."
Ned Beaumont said, "I want a drink. Can I get a seat upstairs where they can't see it?"
"It's a small pub," objected Jack. "There are two booths upstairs, and we might be able to hide there, but if Bernie comes around, he might see us."
"Let's take a chance, then. I want to drink, and if he does show up, I want to talk to him right here."
Jack looked at Ned Beaumont curiously, then looked away. "You're the boss. I'll see if there's any space available." He hesitated, shrugged again, and left his seat.
Ned Beaumont sat in his chair and turned to watch the bright young man go back up the stairs.He kept his eyes on the foot of the stairs until the lad came down again.Jack stopped on the second step and waved to him.As Ned Beaumont walked by, he said, "The best seat happens to be vacant, and it's facing her back, so when you sit in, you're right across from the Brookers."
They went upstairs.The booth—the table and wooden settee separated by a chest-high plank for two—was to the right of the landing, and they had to turn and look down, through a wide archway, and over the bar to see the two. upstairs dining room.
Ned Beaumont stared at Lee Wilshere's back.She was wearing a ecru sleeveless gown, a brown hat, and a brown fur coat hanging over the back of a chair.He looked at her companion again.The pale man on her left sat with a hooked nose and long jaw, a brutal man in his forties.And across from her sat a buxom redhead, eyes wide apart, smiling.
Ned Beaumont followed Jack to their seats and sat down facing each other.With his back to the dining room, he leaned against the end of the bench so that the wooden partition would hide him.He took off his hat, but still wore his coat.
A waiter came by. "Rye whiskey," said Ned Beaumont. "." Jack said.
Jack opened a pack of cigarettes, took out one, and stared at it. "It's your game, I'm just working for you. But if Bernie has friends here, it's not a good time to block him."
"yes?"
Jack held the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, and the cigarette swung wildly as he spoke. "If they're waiting for you, then this is probably his place."
The waiter came with their drinks.Ned Beaumont drained his glass at once, and complained, "It's deadly weak."
"Yeah, I guess so," Jack agreed, taking a sip from his glass.He lit his cigarette, then took another sip of his drink.
"Then," said Ned Beaumont, "I'll block him as soon as he shows up."
"Good idea," said Jack's pretty dark face, "so what do I do?"
"Leave it to me," said Ned Beaumont, and called in the waiter.
He ordered a double Scotch, and Jack ordered another rick.When the wine came, Ned Beaumont drank it down.Jack's first drink was removed before he was halfway through, and he sipped his second.After a while, Ned Beaumont ordered two more double Scotch whiskeys, while Jack's drink was left untouched.
Then Bernie Despan came upstairs.
Jack kept his eyes on the landing, and when he saw the gambler, he kicked Ned Beaumont under the table.Ned Beaumont looked up from his empty glass, and his eyes suddenly became cold and hard.He stood up with his hands on the table, walked out of the compartment, faced Despan, and said, "Bernie, I want my money."
The man who had followed Despain up the stairs now walked around him and punched Ned Beaumont hard with his left fist.He is not tall, but his shoulders are broad and his fists are big.
Ned Beaumont was thrown backward on the partition of the balconies.He bent forward, his knees gave way, but he didn't fall.He stood there for a while, his eyes glazed over, his face gradually turning blue, and he muttered something that no one could understand, and then walked towards the stairs.
He came downstairs limp and without a hat.He walked through the restaurant downstairs, out onto the street, across the sidewalk, and there he threw up.After vomiting, he walked to a taxi more than ten feet away, climbed in, and gave the driver an address in Greenwich Village.
Ned Beaumont got out of the car in front of a house.The basement under the brownstone stairs was open, and the sound and light from within spilled into the darkened street.He passed through the hallway in the basement and came to a narrow room. Two waiters in white coats stood at the twenty-foot-long bar, serving a dozen or so male and female guests in front of the bar.In addition, there were two waiters standing among the tables outside, busy greeting the guests present.
"My God, Ned!" cried the bartender with the thinner hair.He put down the pink drink he was concocting in a goblet, and stretched out a wet hand from the bar.
"Yo, Meck," Ned Beaumont responded, and shook the wet hand.
Another waiter came to shake Ned Beaumont's hand, and then a plump, ruddy Italian whom Ned Beaumont called Tony.After some pleasantries Ned Beaumont said he would buy a drink.
"Damn it, of course you need it," Tony said.He went back to the bar and tapped an empty cocktail glass on the counter. "Don't sell this guy a glass of water tonight," he said to the bartenders who noticed the noise, "I charge him everything he wants to drink."
Ned Beaumont said, "No problem, I'll take it. Double Scotch."
From the other side of the room the two girls stood up and shouted in unison, "Yo-ho, Ned!"
"Be right back," he told Tony, and walked over to the girls' table.They hugged him, asked him questions, introduced him to his tablemates, and made a seat for him.
He sat down to answer their questions, saying that he had just come to New York for a quick visit and didn't intend to stay long, and that he ordered a double shot of Scotch.
Just before three o'clock in the morning, they got up from their table, left Tony's bar, went to an almost identical place three blocks away, sat at an almost identical table, and ordered the same drinks.
One of the men left at 3:30 without saying goodbye to the others, and those who remained did not greet him.Ten minutes later, Ned Beaumont, the other man, and the two girls were gone.They took a cab around the corner to a restaurant near Washington Square, and the man and the girl got out.
The remaining girl—Ned called her Feidink—took Ned Beaumont to an apartment on Seventy-third Street.It was very warm in the apartment, and when she opened the door, the heat hit her face.She took three steps toward the living room, sighed, and threw herself on the floor.
Ned Beaumont closed the door and tried to wake her, but she didn't open her eyes.With difficulty he carried her half-carried, half-dragged, into the next room, and laid her down on a couch covered in calico.He partially undressed her, covered her with a blanket, and opened the window.Next he went into the bathroom feeling sick.After throwing up, he went back to the living room, lay down on the sofa with all his clothes on, and fell asleep.
The telephone rang near Ned Beaumont's head, waking him up.He opened his eyes, his feet hit the ground, rolled over, and looked around the room.He closed his eyes and relaxed when he saw the phone.
The ringtone still refused to give up.With a groan, he opened his eyes again, struggled to pull his left arm out from under his body, brought his wrist to his eyes, and squinted his eyes to look at it.The glass surface had long since disappeared, and the pointer stopped at eleven forty-eight.
Ned Beaumont writhed on the couch again, leaning to one side on his left elbow, then resting his head on the palm of his left hand.The phone ringing still refused to give up.He looked around the room again with extremely dry eyes. The lights were on, and through an open door he could see Feidink's feet under the blanket, and the end of the couch.
He groaned again, then sat up, brushing his fingers through his tousled dark hair, squeezing his temples with his fingertips.Ned stuck out his tongue and licked his lips, which were dry and discolored and peeled, and gave a disgusted expression.Then he stood up, coughed lightly, took off his gloves and coat and threw them on the sofa, and walked into the bathroom.
After coming out, he walked to the couch and looked down at Feidink.She was fast asleep, face down, with one arm wrapped in a blue sleeve bent under her head.The phone had stopped ringing, and Ned straightened his tie and walked back into the living room.
On the small table between the two chairs was an open cigarette case with three cigarettes left in it.
"What the hell." He picked up one of them, muttered sullenly, then found a box of matches, lit a cigarette, and went into the kitchen.He juiced four oranges into a tall glass, swallowed them, made two more cups of coffee and drank them.
As they walked out of the kitchen, Feidink asked him in an extremely slurred voice, "Where's Ted?" Her exposed eye was half-closed.
Ned Beaumont approached her. "Who's Ted?" he asked.
"The guy I was with yesterday."
"Who were you with yesterday? How would I know?"
She moved her lips, made a harsh cluck, and changed the subject. "what time is it?"
"I don't know, it's daytime anyway."
She moved her face in the chintz cushions beneath her head, and said: "Yesterday I met a handsome fellow, said yes to marry him, then turned around and took home the first stranger I met. She raised and lowered her hand on her head, "I'm at home now, right?"
"You have the key here anyway," Ned Beaumont told her. "Would you like some orange juice or coffee?"
"Hell, I don't want anything but death. Ned, will you go away? And never come back."
"It's hard for me, I'm afraid," he replied grimly, "but I'll try my best."
He put on his overcoat and gloves, took a dark wrinkled cap from his coat pocket, put it on his head, and left the house.
Half an hour later Ned Beaumont knocked on the door of his hotel room number 734.Jack's drowsy voice immediately sounded from the other side of the door: "Who is it?"
"Beaumont."
"Well," said the voice listlessly, "here we come."
Jack opened the door and turned on the light.He was wearing loose-fitting pajamas with green polka dots and was barefoot, his eyes were glassy and his face was flushed with sleep.He yawned, nodded, and stretched out on his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.Then he asked dispiritedly, "How are you doing this morning?"
Ned Beaumont had closed the door.He stood between the door and the bed, looking sullenly at the man lying on the bed.
"What happened after I left?" he asked.
"Nothing happened," Jack yawned again, "or you want to ask me what I did?" Without waiting for an answer, he added, "I went out and watched them across the street and waited for them to come out. Spann came out with that chick and the guy who beat you and went to the Buckman Building on Forty-eighth Street, where Despan lived--apartment 938, registered as Barton Dewey. I Stayed there until after three o'clock before leaving. If they weren't trying to trick me, they must still be there." He turned his head slightly towards the corner of the room, "Your hat is on the chair over there, I think I It should be put away for you."
Ned Beaumont went to the chair, picked up the hat that didn't fit him well, stuffed the crumpled dark cap back into his coat pocket, and put the hat on.
"There's some gin on the table for a drink," said Jack.
"No thanks. Do you have a gun?" Ned Beaumont asked.
Jack stopped staring at the ceiling.He sat up on the bed, stretched his hands out, yawned again, and asked, "What are you doing?" The curiosity in his voice was just perfunctory.
"I'm going to Despin."
Jack bent his legs, put his hands on his knees, bent forward slightly, stared at the foot of the bed and said slowly: "I don't think you should go, now is not a good time."
"I must go, now," said Ned Beaumont.
His tone made Jack look at him.Ned Beaumont's complexion was an unhealthy yellowish gray.His eyes were cloudy, the sockets were red, and the whites of his eyes were invisible when he squinted.His lips were dry and for some reason looked a little puffier than usual.
"Up all night?" Jack asked.
"Sleep for a while."
"drink?"
"Yes. And what about the gun?"
With a flick of his legs, Jack slipped from under the sheet and stepped onto the floor beside the bed. "Why don't you get some sleep first? Then we'll get to them. You look awful."
"I'm going now," said Ned Beaumont.
Jack said, "Okay, but it was the wrong decision. You know they're not kids. They're serious."
"Where's the gun?" Ned Beaumont asked.
Jack stood up and began to unbutton his pajamas.
"Give me the gun and you'll go to sleep, and I'll be gone," said Ned Beaumont.
Jack buttoned the button he had just unbuttoned again, and climbed into bed. "The gun's in the top drawer of the closet," he said. "There's a few clips in there if you need it." He turned and closed his eyes.
Ned Beaumont found the pistol and put it in the back pocket of his trousers. "I'll see you later," he said, turning off the light and going out.
The Buckman Building is a square yellow apartment building that occupies most of the block.Once inside, Ned Beaumont said he was looking for Mr. Dewey.Asked for his name, he said, "Ned Beaumont."
Five minutes later he stepped out of the elevator and into a long corridor at the end of which stood Despin by an open door.
Despin was a small man, short and lean, with a head disproportionately large for his frame; his long hair, thick and loose, made that head monstrously large.His complexion was dark, his features were large except for his eyes, and deep wrinkles were carved across his forehead, and two straight lines ran across his mouth from either side of his nostrils; there was a vague red scar on one cheek; The suit was ironed neatly, and he didn't wear any accessories.
"Good morning, Ned." He stood in the doorway, smiling mockingly.
"I want to talk to you, Bernie," said Ned Beaumont.
"I think so. They called and gave your name, and I said to myself, 'I bet this guy wants to talk to me.'"
Ned Beaumont said nothing, his lips were drawn tight on his sallow face.
Despin's smile faded. "Okay, bro, don't stand there, come in." He stepped aside as he spoke.
In that door was a small hallway, and in another open door directly opposite, Lee Wilshere and the man who beat Ned Beaumont could be seen.They were packing two travel bags when they stopped and looked at Ned Beaumont.
He stepped into the porch.
Despain followed him in, shut the front door, and said, "'Boy' was always in a hurry, and he saw you coming at me like that, and thought you were looking for trouble, you know? I scolded him, and if you want If you listen, maybe he will be willing to apologize."
Wilshere glared at Ned Beaumont, and the Kid whispered something to her.She smiled viciously and replied, "Yeah, sportsmanship until the last moment."
"Come in, Mr. Beaumont. You've all seen it, haven't you?" said Bernie Despan.
Ned Beaumont entered the room where Lie and Kid were.
"How's the belly?" asked "Boy."
Ned Beaumont made no reply.
Bernie Despan exclaimed, "Jesus, you've got less energy than anyone else to talk to me about."
"I want to talk to you," said Ned Beaumont, "do we have to talk in front of these people?"
"I'm going to do it," said Despin. "If you don't want to, you can get out of this room and go about your own business and get rid of them."
"Here is what I want to do."
"That's right, it's about money." Despan smiled at "Boy." "Isn't it about money, 'boy'?"
"The Kid" went and stood by the door through which Ned Beaumont had just entered. "True," he said in a harsh voice, "but I've forgotten what it was."
Ned Beaumont took off his coat and hung it on the back of a brown easy chair.He sat down in the chair, put his hat behind him, and said, "It's not about me this time. I'm—let me see." He took a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his coat, opened it, glanced at it, and then Said, "I'm here as a Special Agent of the District Attorney's Office."
For half a second, Despin's flickering eyes blurred, but he said immediately, "Stop talking nonsense! The last time I saw you, you were just Paul's follower."
Ned Beaumont refolded the paper and put it back in his pocket.
"Well, go ahead and investigate us—as you like—and let us see," Despain said, sitting down face to face with Ned Beaumont, shaking his oversized head, "don't you Tell me you came all the way to New York to ask me about Tyler Henry's murder?"
"That's right."
"It's unfortunate that you made this trip in vain." He waved his arm towards the travel bag on the floor, "As soon as Li told me what happened, I started packing and planned to go back and laugh at your plan to frame you .”
Ned Beaumont reclined comfortably in his easy chair, one hand behind his back, and said, "If there's a trap, it's Lie's fault. It's her that the cops got their evidence from."
"Yeah," Li said angrily, "because you let them pass, you bastard."
Despain said, "Aha, Li's a stupid bitch. Well, but those IOUs don't mean anything—"
"I'm a stupid bitch, aren't I?" Li yelled angrily, "After you took everything and ran away, didn't I come all the way to warn you—"
"That's right," Despain agreed cheerfully. "Come here only proves how stupid you are, because you just recruited this guy to me."
"If that's what you think, then I'm damn happy. I'm the one who turned over those IOUs to the police. What do you think?"
"As soon as we're done with this, I'll let you know what I think." Despain turned to Ned Beaumont. "Honest Paul Mazvi asked you to set me up, eh?"
Ned Beaumont smiled. "You were not framed, Bernie, you know it in your heart. Li gave me the clue, and we found the rest."
"Besides what she said, did you find out more?"
"A lot."
"What?"
Ned Beaumont laughed again. "I have a lot to tell you, Bernie, but I don't want to say it in front of this group."
"Crazy!" said Despin.
"Boy" said in his raspy voice from the porch: "Let's beat this fool up and go."
"Wait a minute," Despin said.Then he frowned and asked Ned Beaumont, "Have you got a warrant for my arrest?"
"Well, I don't—"
"Yes or no?" Despain's sarcastic sense of humor was gone.
"Not so far as I know," Ned Beaumont answered slowly.
Despin stood up and pushed back his chair. "Get out, get out, or I'll let 'boy' beat you up again."
Ned Beaumont stood up, picked up his coat, took his cap out of the coat pocket, held it in one hand, and draped the coat over the other arm, saying gravely, "You'll regret it." A solemn gesture went out. "Boy"'s ear-piercing laughter and Li's sharp shouts followed him all the way.
Out of the Buckman Building, Ned Beaumont walked quickly down the street.His eyes glowed on his weary face, and his dark mustache quivered with an erratic smile.
At the first corner, he ran into Jack head-on. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
"As far as I know, I'm still working for you, so I'll follow along to see if I can help."
"Excellent. Get a taxi, they're going to be gone."
"Okay, okay," Jack agreed, and walked down the street.Ned Beaumont remained on the corner from which he could see the front and side entrances of the Buckman Building.
Not long after, Jack came back in a taxi.Ned Beaumont got in and they told the driver where to park.
"What did you do to them?" Jack asked him as they sat quietly.
"nothing."
"Oh."
Ten minutes later, Jack spoke. "Look," he pointed, with an index finger, to a taxi heading for the side entrance of the Buckman Building.
"Boy" carried two travel bags and led the way out of the building.After he got into the taxi, Despan and the girl followed him out.Then the taxi drove away.
Jack leaned forward and ordered the driver.They followed the taxi ahead through the streets, brightened in the early morning light.After a long circle, they finally came to an old brown brick house on West Forty-ninth Street.
Despin's taxi was parked in front of the house, and Kid again was the first to get out and onto the sidewalk.He looked up and down the street, approached the front door of the house, unlocked it, and returned to the taxi.Despin and the girl jumped out and hurried into the house, followed by "the boy" with the bag.
"You stay in the car," Ned Beaumont told Jack.
"What are you going to do?"
"Go and try your luck."
Jack shook his head. "If you're looking for trouble again, you shouldn't be in this area."
"If I come out with Despan, you will leave and call another taxi to go back to guard the Buckman Building. If I don't come out, you can do it yourself." Ned Beaumont explained.
He opened the taxi door and stepped out, trembling, eyes shining.Jack came up to say something, but he ignored it and hurried across the street to the house where the two men and the woman had just entered.
He walked up the front steps of the house and grabbed the doorknob.The door knob was turned in his hand, and it was unlocked.He pushed open the door, peered into the dimly lit porch, and entered.
The door slammed shut behind him, and Kid punched him on the head, sending the wind off his cap.He hit the wall with his whole body, sank down a little, dizzy, and almost knelt down, and then another punch from "The Kid" hit the wall above his head.
He pursed his lips, raised his fist and attacked the "boy"'s groin.The blow was so fast and hard that the Kid let out a yelp and fell back, allowing Ned Beaumont to struggle to his feet before another blow was thrown.
In the porch not far away, Bernie Despan stood against the wall, with wide and thin lips, eyes narrowed into two black slits, and repeatedly whispered: "Hit him, 'boy!" ', beat him..." Lee Wilshere was nowhere to be seen.
The Kid landed the next two punches on Ned Beaumont's chest, knocking him against the wall and coughing.The third punch was aimed at Ned's face, but he dodged it.He then grabbed the kid by the throat with his forearm and kicked him in the stomach. The Kid growled angrily, throwing his fists left and right, but Ned Beaumont kept him out of reach with his hands and feet, and took the opportunity to draw Jack's revolver from the back pocket of his trousers.He didn't have time to align the sights, but he squeezed the barrel and pulled the trigger anyway, shooting Kid in the right thigh. "The Kid" fell wailing to the porch floor and lay looking up at Ned Beaumont with bloodshot eyes in terror.
Ned Beaumont stepped back from The Kid, his left hand in his trouser pocket, and turned to Bernie Despan. "Come here, I want to talk to you." There was a gloomy determination on his face.
There were footsteps overhead, a door opened somewhere at the back of the building, and excited yells were heard down the corridor, but no one emerged.
Despin stared at Ned Beaumont for a long time, as if petrified.Then without a word he stepped over Kid lying on the floor and led Ned Beaumont out of the building.Ned Beaumont put the revolver back in his coat pocket before going down the steps, but still held it.
"Get in that taxi," he told Despain, pointing to the car Jack had called.After getting into the car, he told the driver to drive casually, "just go around in circles, and I'll tell you where to go later."
Despan did not speak until the car was on the road. "It's robbery. I'll give you anything you want because I don't want to die, but it's nothing but robbery at gunpoint."
Ned Beaumont smiled disapprovingly and shook his head. "Don't forget that I announced at the beginning that I was sent by the District Attorney's Office."
"But I'm not charged and I'm not wanted. You said—"
"I lied to you, Bernie, I have my reasons. In fact, you are already wanted."
"why?"
"Kill Tyler Henry."
"Just for that? Damn it, I'll go back and deal with it. Why do you want me? I've got some of his IOUs, yes; I left the night he was murdered, yes; He suffered a little for not paying it back, yes. How easy is this case for a first-rate lawyer? Jesus, if I had put those IOUs in the safe by nine-thirty-- Like what Li said—doesn't that mean that I don't intend to ask him for money that night?"
"No. And we have more evidence than that."
"That's all," said Despin seriously.
Ned Beaumont sneered. "Wrong, Bernie. Remember when I went to see you this morning with a hat on?"
"Maybe, I think you're wearing a hat."
"Remember when I was leaving, I took another cap out of my coat pocket and put it on?"
Embarrassment and fear appeared in the small eyes of the black-faced man. "Jesus! So what? What have you got?"
"I have proof. Do you remember that hat didn't quite fit me?"
Bernie Despan's voice became hoarse. "I don't know, Ned. For God's sake, what do you mean?"
"I mean, the hat didn't fit because it wasn't mine. You remember Taylor's hat disappeared after he was murdered?"
"I don't know. I don't know anything about him."
"Well, I wanted to tell you that the hat I wore this morning is sitting in that apartment where you lived in the Buckman Building, between the cushion and the back of that brown easy chair. You Thinking about this, plus other evidence, is it enough to make you restless?"
Despin almost howled with terror. "Shut up," Ned Beaumont yelled in his ear, covering his mouth.
Sweat dripped down Despin's dark face.He flung himself on Ned Beaumont, clutching the lapels of his coat with both hands, and babbled, "Ned, you can't do this to me. I'll pay you every penny I owe you—every penny, plus Interest, as long as you don't mess with me. I never meant to blackmail you, Ned, I swear to God. I just owed it as a loan at a time when money was tight. God knows I'm telling the truth, Ned I don't have a lot of money now, but I'll sell Li's jewels to raise money today, and I'll give you back your share, and it won't be less. How much is it, Ned? I'll get it right away Here it is, definitely this morning.”
Ned Beaumont pushed the dark-faced man aside. "Three thousand two hundred and fifty dollars."
"Three thousand two hundred and fifty dollars. You'll get it, a lot, this morning, right away." Despan looked at his watch. "No problem, sir, we'll get the money as soon as we get there." Well, old Stein should be in the shop already. Leave me alone, Ned, for the sake of old friends."
Ned Beaumont thought, rubbing his hands together. "I can't let you go, I mean not now. I remember I had A.D. duties and they wanted to question you. So the only thing that would make sense was the hat. Here's the deal: Return the money to Me, I'll get that hat back while no one's around, and then only you and I will know about it. Otherwise, I think half the police in New York will be on my side-you decide for yourself, or accept it, Or pull it down."
"Oh, my God!" Bernie Despan groaned, "ask the driver to take us to Stein's at..."
Notes:
Notes: