McHugh, page 13
Four times Stover tried to climb out of the tub, and four times McHugh forced him back under the strong torrent of icy water. The fifth time he let him out. He dried his hands carefully and said, “Now we’ll talk.”
Stover nodded. The wavy hair curled darkly across his forehead, and he trembled violently. His mouth was a bloody ruin, and both eyes were swollen shut. McHugh steered him out into the kitchen and pushed him into a chrome-legged chair.
“You been a lot of trouble to me, boy,” he said.
Stover nodded, swallowed blood. “Mac, so help me, didn’t mean—”
“I guess you didn’t mean a lot of things,” McHugh cut in coldly. “Like, say, knocking Nadine up.”
Stover flushed and shook his head. “McHugh, you don’t understand. Nadine and—”
“I think I understand,” McHugh interrupted. “Save it for later.”
“I’d—I’d like a drink.” Stover’s teeth chattered. “I mean it, McHugh. I guess I’m ready to get pneumonia.”
“You should be so lucky,” McHugh growled. “Okay.”
“Right-hand cupboard.”
McHugh turned around and found a bottle of bourbon in the cupboard. He picked up a water glass, dumped in three fingers of whisky and pushed it across the table.
Stover held it momentarily in a trembling hand, then brought it to his mouth. McHugh could see him wince as the liquor stung the torn flesh. He drained the glass, put it down and said, “What do you want to know?”
“What the hell you’ve been up to the past two and half weeks. Start with that.”
Stover hesitated, reached for the bottle and poured a second, smaller drink. He held it in his hand as he talked.
“Mac, I’ve been trying to stay alive. Some hard guys have been riding me.”
“Do tell,” McHugh said mildly. “Now why would anyone want to do that to a nice guy like you?”
“The usual,” Stover replied with a forlorn expression. “I play hard, McHugh. You know that. I like a lot of action, and sometimes it costs money. I got in deeper than I could bail myself out of. I had a lot of paper out, and the guys who were holding it sold the stuff. The buyers wanted to cash out and do it right now. You know how it goes.”
“I know a hell of a lot better than you think. Go on.”
“Well, I could get money, but not right away. I’ve got some securities, but it takes a few days to cash those in, and I own some stocks with dividends due. I thought I should take off until I could come up and pay off.”
“Yeah,” McHugh said scornfully. “So you take off in that big-assed Pierce of yours. A car that draws more attention than an elephant. Call that smart?”
“It took you to find me, didn’t it?” Stover reached for a pack of cigarettes but found them dripping water in his shirt pocket. McHugh tossed him one and scratched a match.
“Yeah. You’re lucky it was me instead of Orland’s guys.”
“Orland?” Stover said sharply. “What do you know about Orland?”
“That he’s been looking for you.” McHugh got a smoke going. “Now why would he do that?”
“I told you. My IOU’s got bought up.” Stover’s hand trembled as he poured another shot.
“Now why would he buy your paper?” McHugh persisted.
Stover shut his eyes tight and put his head in his hands. “I don’t know, Mac. I suppose he got them cheap and thought he had enough muscle to collect in full. Hell, I intended to pay…”
“Uh-huh. Someday.” McHugh blew smoke at him. “Now let’s talk about a couple of killings.”
“Killings?” Stover’s voice was weak.
“First in Nadine’s old apartment. A hood named Gordo Nuss. I expect you read about it in the papers.”
“Yeah. I read about it.” Stover avoided his eyes.
“That was the night I came back. I cut short a job to see if I could bail your worthless tail out of a jam. Only because of Nadine. I should have saved myself the trouble.”
“She shouldn’t have asked—”
“That’s immaterial,” McHugh snapped. “She did, and I did. Now, how do you explain this hood with his throat cut?”
“I can’t explain it. You know more than I do.”
“Maybe I do at that,” McHugh said ominously. “So you had your tail in a gate. How many outfits were after you?”
“Huh?”
“One bunch of hoods? Two? Three? You know how many demands were made on you.”
“I—I guess just Orland. I saw a lot of hard guys the week before I took off, McHugh. But, as far as I know, they were all from the same stable.”
“And they wanted…”
“Dough. A lot of it. Close to twenty-six thousand in all.”
McHugh whistled in mock sympathy. “Okay. I hope to hell you can prove where you were when Nuss got his.”
“That’s not going to be easy.”
“Seldom is.”
“I—I was in the city that night. I spent the night with a bimbo. But I’ll lay it on the line, McHugh. I didn’t get with her until the time, or thereabouts, that you were walking in and finding the body.”
McHugh grinned. “Cheer up. Considering what Nuss was, you’d probably get off with manslaughter. Do maybe three or four years in Quentin.”
Johnny Stover looked sick.
“You’re nice people,” McHugh went on, and disgust was thick in his clipped words. “Stover, that girl happens to love you, unfortunately for her. She rings me in to save your butt. Do you so much as call her and say you’re okay, or ask how she is? The hell you do. You keep your tail down in a hole somewhere and let her and Loris and me run all over hell trying to get to you and help you. You’re real nice!”
“McHugh—For God’s sake!” Stover said heatedly. “I tried to call you. You weren’t at the apartment. I tried The Door a few times, but you were never in, and I was afraid to leave a number to call back. You were off in some damn motel. Nadine kept on the phone, and she caught up with me yesterday at the farm. That’s the truth!”
“And when she did, you told her to play it close. To take the apartment she’d found, wait for you and say nothing to me or to Loris. Yeah?”
Stover nodded. “I wanted nobody to know where I was.”
“Uh-huh. So here you are yesterday, down on the farm. Which could be inconvenient for you, too, because one Harvey Lowell was killed in your living room. Suppose you tell me where you were when he was getting his.”
“God—I don’t know. I don’t even know when he was killed. I was registered in a motel on the Coast road, with a rented car. I had the Arrow stashed in a garage. I thought it might throw people off the trail if the car showed up there again, so after dark I drove over there and left it. I’d already picked up what little stuff I was taking. I got out of there in an old Chewy I got from a guy in a trade awhile back. It isn’t registered to me or anything, so I thought it would be safe to use.”
McHugh blew smoke rings. He dropped into a chair opposite Stover, put his clenched fists on the table and said, “Buster, your tale stinks.”
“Maybe. It’s true,” Stover said sullenly.
“You’re worth a hell of a lot more than you claim to have owed these hoods. The FBI says that farm’s clear, and with real estate the way it is now it alone is worth twice that much. Plus you’ve got those oddball cars and four bank accounts we’ve found so far and maybe more.” McHugh stubbed his cigarette. “Stover, you could have gone to any bank in the city and put up enough security to cover that twenty-six grand.”
“Like I told you,” Stover said quickly. “I was trying to dig up the dough. Then, when I read about Nuss getting killed, I said to hell with it, I’m getting out and going a long way.”
“Maybe,” McHugh shrugged. “You can tell it to Kline down at Homicide. Now let’s get on to Nadine. She hasn’t unpacked her bags since she got here. Plan on taking her with you when you go?”
“She’s coming with me,” Stover said. The firmness of his tone surprised McHugh.
“She’s pregnant,” McHugh retorted flatly. “Among a few things I picked up around town lately was a report you’d had some gal with one in the oven and you paid to get in knocked.”
“I wasn’t in love with her,” Stover said quietly. “I do love Nadine.”
“Yeah. You’ve sure showed that” McHugh shook his head. He was weary of talking with this lean, sharp man who always had an answer that could be the truth. “Maybe you love the dough she’s worth more. I think it’s at least half a million.”
“You’d think of that angle. I can make plenty for both of us.”
“While you spend the rest of your life running from the Syndicate?” McHugh asked scornfully.
Stover spread his hands in a pleading gesture. He started to speak, then stopped as the door pushed open. Nadine stared at the ruin of his face, cried out and rah to him.
McHugh moved to draw her back, stopped as he saw Loris in the doorway, shaking her head.
“You didn’t get the joyous tidings, McHugh. Forget the whole damn thing.”
“Why?”
“They’re married.” She threw her purse across the room.
Chapter 13
McHugh threw up his hands in disgust. He got his shirt and jacket and put them on. Loris made a couple of stiff drinks and fumed. Nadine wrapped ice in a towel and held it against Johnny Stover’s swollen face.
“Little sister, you should have told us,” McHugh said.
Nadine made her eyes meet the steady gaze as she said, “McHugh…I was…we were afraid to.”
“Baby, we’re family,” Loris said. She mixed a couple more drinks and took them to Nadine and Johnny.
“I know. I feel low enough to walk under the door,” Nadine said.
McHugh sipped his drink. “Afraid of what, little sis?”
“You, McHugh,” Stover muttered through swollen lips. “We know you hate my guts.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?” Nadine said defensively.
McHugh paced the floor. “Stover, you’re a playboy. Loris and I don’t like playboy types. You’ve got a lot of brain, a lot of personality.” He stopped to light a smoke. “How you use them is your business. We care a lot about little sister here, but she’s full-grown. She’s got a right to screw up her life if she wants, without any interference. Whatever she does, we stand with her. That goes for bailing you out of a jam if we can.”
There were tears forming again in Nadine’s eyes. “I’m sorry, McHugh…Loris. But I’m not like you two. You can cope with things. I never could. So you’ve made most of my decisions for me for years. I haven’t resented it, but I’ve felt dominated or something. McHugh, the last thing I wanted was to have you mixed up in this. I told Loris Johnny had disappeared. She insisted on calling you.”
“Baby, you were so darned upset,” Loris said. “McHugh is good to have around when you’ve got trouble.”
“I know,” Nadine murmured. “I know, sis.”
McHugh gulped the rest of his drink. “You gals shove off. Go in the next room a minute.”
When the door had closed behind them, McHugh faced Johnny Stover. “I still don’t like you much, guy. But at least you married the girl. Loris and I are in no spot to toss rocks at people who do that.”
Stover nodded. “Six weeks Tuesday. Vegas.”
“Have to?”
“No.” Stover shook his head and managed a grin. “I guess I was ready to quit being a playboy.”
“Yeah. Well, you’re family now, too. You got trouble, kid.”
“I know we’ve got trouble.”
“I’ll help you. As much as I can, if you want it.”
“I think we’ll make it. What did you have in mind?”
“Level with me. Tell me why those hoods really want you. If you sliced Nuss, say so. I think you can beat it. Lowell would be tougher, but he was committing a burglary at your place. It could have been self-defense.”
Stover studied his face, then shook his head.
“Okay,” McHugh went on. “Keep running. I trust you got a way to go.”
“You mean that, McHugh?”
I came back to find you.” McHugh poured another short drink. “I found you. You don’t want help, that’s your privilege.”
Stover stared at the floor. “Thanks anyway.”
McHugh nodded curtly. “You take good care of that girl. Don’t let her get hurt. Understand?”
Stover nodded. McHugh turned on his heel and left the room. He took Loris by the arm and told Nadine, “He’s all yours, little sister.”
They went out. Night and fog had closed in on the city again.
Nick Foote had three other FBI agents in the blue sedan. They had grim and impatient expressions on their faces.
“Honey, take the car and go home,” McHugh told Loris.
“I don’t want to,” she replied. “Not with Nadine—”
“I’ll take care of little sister. You go on home,” he said firmly.
She brushed her mouth across his and left “He still in there?” Foote asked.
“Yeah. It’s going to be rougher than I thought. Fool girl married him.”
“No sense at all.” Foote shook his head. “We’ve got the back covered, too.”
“I don’t think they’ll stick around there long. How’s the airport weather?”
“Ceiling’s hanging about eight hundred. Chapman’s got a clearance set up.”
McHugh opened the door and got into the front seat “The Dutchman?”
“Pawing the ground. He wants that gold pretty bad.”
“Doesn’t everybody?” McHugh said.
“Looks like. The State Department boys say they think the Chinks are buying it,” Foote replied.
McHugh stretched his legs. “What’s the word on Orland and Willie Waddle?”
“Kline’s had the tails on them since his talk with you. That bunch is clear on the Lowell thing, anyway.”
“Uh-huh,” McHugh said, almost sadly. “Looks like it has to be Stover. Well, I gave him a chance to cop out and he wouldn’t take it.”
“All I want to know is where the hell is the gold,” one of the men in the rear seat said.
“It’ll turn up,” McHugh said confidently.
“Just so it doesn’t get away again. A hell of a lot of people are losing sleep on this one,” the agent said.
“How many in it now?” McHugh asked.
“Eight FBI, five Treasury men,” Foote said.
“To grab one or two guys who’ll be mouse-trapped out in the middle of an airport?” McHugh demanded.
“We’re trying to wrap the whole thing up,” Foote explained. “We’d like to take Orland’s bunch, too.”
“Yeah?” McHugh said doubtfully. “How do you plan to get him in on the party?”
“We arranged a little leak. He’ll be there.”
“Oh, God. Don’t forget the girl. We can’t take any chances on her,” McHugh said.
“We’ll try to grab her before she makes the scene,” Foote told him. The two-way radio under the dash came to life. Foote listened, picked up the mike and said, “Check. We’re on them.”
Foote put the car in gear as headlights showed in the apartment house driveway. McHugh recognized Nadine’s car as it turned into the street. He could see two people in it. It was headed away from the airport, toward the water front.
“Wonder if he’s pulling a switch on us at the last minute,” McHugh muttered.
“Nah. They’ll split up. He’ll go pick up the stuff alone. She probably doesn’t know what’s up,” Foote replied.
The car ahead turned onto Market Street and stopped at a traffic light. McHugh saw the door on the passenger’s side open and a figure jump out and hurry to a nearby cab stand. Foote grabbed the mike and said, “Car Four. Give the girl a few blocks and take her. Run her into the nearest precinct house for safekeeping.”
They followed the cab. McHugh saw a sedan cut around them and speed after Nadine’s car as it turned off on a side street. After a moment a siren howled briefly, and the radio came alive with, “Subject in custody.”
The cab stopped at a warehouse off the water front, and Foote parked four blocks back. A city Street Department truck clanked past, and the men in the cab waved. “More of the boys,” Foote said as a small panel truck came from the warehouse. It turned toward the Bayshore, and they followed.
“Rides like it’s got a load in the back end,” McHugh Said. “Why don’t we curb him and wrap it up right here?”
“Sure, but how do we get Orland and Hale and Willie Waddle?” Foote said. “Be nice if we could take them, too. We might never get another chance like this.”
“Suit yourself.”
“You don’t give a damn, do you?” one of the agents in back said.
“This is your department,” McHugh replied. “To me, it looks like you’re setting up a gunfight when you don’t have to. I don’t like it.”
“We don’t like it either.” The man picked up a Thompson submachine gun from the floor of the car. “But we’re ready.”
“I can see that,” McHugh said, and he slipped his own gun from its holster and checked the loads.
The radio came alive again. “Car One. This is Six. Orland and Hale and three other men just pulled into the airport. They’re sitting where they can watch Chapman’s plane.”
“One to Six,” McHugh said into the mike. “Stover’s about five minutes from the airport now, driving a panel wagon. We might as well let him get right up to the plane. Those guys doing anything?”
“Standing around. One guy in the car, behind the wheel. Chapman’s warming his engines. And there’s a cab driving up to the plane now, one guy getting out.”
“Make him?” McHugh asked.
“Just a minute.” There was a pause. “Looks like Koolwyk, the one you call the Dutchman. Yeah. He’s looking around, and now he’s up to the plane. Talking to Chapman.”
They rode in silence until the revolving beacon on the airport tower was in sight. Foote cut left into a side street and said, “We’ll let the truck follow him in. We’ll use a back gate.”
“I still don’t like this much,” McHugh said as they drove along the perimeter of the field toward a loading ramp and Line of hangars. He could see the dark bulk of the twin-engine amphibian plane. Its slowly-turning props caught the light from a pair of floodlamps a couple of hundred feet away. The panel truck came from behind the line of hangars and backed up to the plane. A figure got out and went around to the back of the truck.
