Crime of Their Life (22 page)

Liddell considered, sighed. “I’ve been worrying about the same thing.” He picked up his glass, took a deep swallow.

“And we were all in La Guaira when Reynders died.” The captain returned his pipe to between his teeth, puffed noisily on it. “How do you explain that?”

Liddell grunted irritably. “That was easy. We know that whoever fed me the mickey got Reynders’ name from my pocket. There are still telephones and the smugglers must have some people in Curaçao. All our shipboard contact had to do was alert the Curaçao people that the heat was on Reynders. They hand Groever a contract and sit by sipping cocktails on the fantail while Groever gets rid of a possible weak link.”

“Then you have no idea of who the smuggler is or how they’re getting the diamonds into the country?” the captain snapped.

Liddell considered. “I wouldn’t say that. Matter of fact, I’ve got a pretty good idea on both scores. Proving it might be a little more difficult.”

Captain Rose paused with the pipe-stem halfway to his mouth. “But you intend to try? When?”

Liddell checked his watch. “We sail at ten?” He raised his eyes inquiringly. The captain nodded. “What’s the entertainment for the passengers tonight?”

The captain walked around the deck, picked up a schedule. “A movie. We try to give them something restful after a big day ashore.”

Liddell nodded. “In that case, I think we’ll make our pitch around midnight. Will you be available?”

The captain studied Liddell’s face through narrowed eyes. “I’ll be available, mister,” he told him in a cold voice.

The doors to the theater opened at 11:30, the audience poured out, headed for the nightly buffet. Captain Delmar Rose stood in the lobby of the smoking room where the array of hors d’oeuvres and snacks was on display. There was a grimness in his expression, his jaw was set, with little muscles bunched along the chin line. His eyes were darting from face to face in the milling crowd that was lining up for its midnight meal. He didn’t see Liddell until Johnny came up behind him, tapped him on the arm. The captain started slightly, turned.

“Ready, Captain?”

Captain Rose gave him a curt nod, followed him as Johnny turned, started to shoulder his way through the crowd toward the staircase. At the head of the stairs, the captain caught his arm.

“Where are we heading?”

“On this deck. Cabin 142.”

The captain’s brow darkened. He started to argue, clamped his lips shut, followed Liddell. The cabin steward was just coming out of an adjoining cabin after putting the bunk down.

“Do you have the keys to cabin 142?” Liddell asked him.

The steward’s eyes went from Liddell to the captain, who nodded grimly. “Open 142,” he snapped.

The steward shuffled back to the door marked
142,
unlocked it and stood aside. Liddell walked in, looked around. The captain followed, stood with his hands on his hips, feet planted apart. “Cabin 142 belongs to the Doyles. What kind of insanity are you up to?” he demanded.

“None. You asked me if I knew how the diamonds were smuggled into the country. I told you I had an idea. It is now a certainty. The diamonds are to be smuggled in by the Doyles.”

The captain’s jaw dropped. “You told me you were convinced they were not involved.”

Liddell shrugged. “You can’t win them all.” He walked over to a large wardrobe trunk; pulled it open. It was empty. From his pocket, he brought a tape measure, proceeded to measure the trunk on the outside, then on the inside. He looked up. “This trunk has a false bottom. There’s a two-inch disparity.” He straightened up, stowed the tape measure in his pocket. “Two inches of diamonds on a base that big could add up to one helluva lot of diamonds.”

Captain Rose looked from Liddell to the trunk and back. He walked over, tapped the sides and the bottom. There was no sound of hollowness. He looked up, squinted. “You sure of this?”

Liddell nodded.

The captain failed to look impressed. “If you’re wrong, this could mean a pip of a lawsuit for the line. And for your clients.”

“Not if it’s handled right,” Liddell countered. “Nobody could sue if you were to have a little cocktail party in your cabin and invited a small select list of people. I think I might be able to uncover the whole operation.”

Captain Rose scowled. “And the guest list?”

“The Conways, the Doyles, Jack Allen and Ingrid Sorenson, me and you.” He considered for a moment. “I’d also like you to have the third officer on tap.”

“Weston?” The captain frowned at Liddell, nodded. “All right. I’ll play along. I’ll have them in my cabin at one o’clock.” He turned, started to go, turned back. “And, Liddell—this is your show. It better be good.”

Belle Doyle was sitting in one of the armchairs in the captain’s cabin, her husband was perched on the arm. Jack Allen was making drinks for Tom and Laura Conway, Captain Rose and Ingrid Sorenson were deep in conversation when the door opened and Johnny Liddell walked in.

He nodded to the captain. “Hope I’m not late.”

Captain Rose shook his head. “No, but it is getting late. And I promised some of our guests that we wouldn’t keep them too late. Maybe you’d like to explain what this is all about.”

Liddell walked to the center of the cabin, looked around. “Some of you know that I’m a private detective from New York. What you may not know is why I’m aboard the
Queen.
I have been retained by a group of diamond merchants to uncover a ring smuggling thousands of dollars’ worth of diamonds into the United States every year. Harry Landers, who went overboard during the storm, was also on the case.”

Belle Doyle gasped loudly, squeezed her husband’s hand.

“One of the biggest hurdles we had to get over is how the diamonds were being smuggled past customs. I think I now know how it has been done.” He turned to Harry Doyle. “In the secret compartment of your trunk, there are thousands of dollars’ worth of diamonds. Your function is to get them past customs. Nobody would ever think of checking the trunk of a honeymooner on his first trip for secret compartments.”

Harry Doyle was on his feet, his face black with anger. “Nobody can accuse me of—” He started for Liddell, stopped cold at the sight of the .45 in Liddell’s hand.

“I said your function was to bring them in.” He waved Doyle to the side of the room where Tom Conway and Jack Allen stood staring. “Have you ever met Tom Conway? His company awarded you the prize—the honeymoon trip, the luggage, the night on the town in New York.”

The color drained from Conway’s face, he dug a handkerchief from his pocket, swabbed at his face. “We’ve awarded almost a hundred prizes like that and—”

“And in every case, there was a false bottom to the trunk.”

Doyle stared from Liddell to Conway and back. “He tried to frame us?” He jumped at the advertising man, reached for his throat.

“Cut it out, Doyle.”

Belle Doyle was out of her chair, across the room to her husband. She tore him off Conway. “Don’t dirty your hands on him, Harry. The law will take care of him.”

“Is everybody crazy?” Laura Conway screeched. “My lawyers will hear about this—”

“I hope so. Your husband’s going to need all the legal help he can get. Unless, of course, he co-operates—”

Captain Rose stared at Liddell. “Conway was behind the smuggling? But he’s a wealthy man—”

“His wife is wealthy. That’s a different thing,” Liddell snapped. “But he had to have help. He needed someone who would be on every cruise, whether he was on it or not. Someone like Ingrid.”

Laura Conway let out an anguished yelp, the blonde shook her head. “You’re crazy. You’re really crazy.”

“No. You left a trail a mile wide, Ingrid. First, there was the business of doping the fruit. It had to be someone who had access to a hypodermic, and you’d been working in the infirmary. Second, it had to be a woman. My steward would get curious about a man leaving my cabin late at night, but he’d be real discreet about tattling on a lady.”

“You’re reaching pretty far,” the blonde taunted.

“No further than to point out that it was a woman who called Harry Landers to his death that night. And it had to be someone who knew 126 was vacant and where the key was kept.”

“You can’t prove it was a woman who called. You’re guessing.”

“I’m not saying you killed Landers. You had an alibi. You were in the dispensary that night. Besides you couldn’t have handled his body alone—”

“Wait a minute. Captain, this has gone far enough,” Jack Allen protested. “Are you going to stand there and let this irresponsible idiot make accusations like that? Landers wasn’t murdered. He was washed overboard—”

“Can you prove that?” Liddell asked.

“Can you prove he wasn’t?” Allen started toward Liddell. “Maybe the rest are going to listen, but not me.” Liddell pulled back the ejector, a .45 shell bounced out, landed at Allen’s feet. “You didn’t let me finish. Doyle was afraid of my gun, so were the others. But you weren’t. The man who prowled my room after Ingrid fed me the mickey would think my gun was loaded with blanks. That same man got Reynders’ name and address out of my pocket and arranged for him to be killed.” He turned to Conway. “I know you weren’t in on that. Co-operate and I’ll see that you get a break. You can’t beat the smuggling rap, I’ve got you cold—”

Allen swung on the advertising man. “You open your mouth and there won’t be any place for you to hide.” Conway ignored him. “You promise me I’ll get a break.” “All I want is names, dates and places—”

“Why, you rat—” Allen threw himself at Conway, hands going for his throat.

Liddell moved faster, laid the side of the barrel across the cruise director’s head, knocking him into a sprawling heap. “One good headache deserves another. And that stuff you fed me gave me a king-size one.” He looked at the blonde. The color had drained from her face, leaving her make-up as garish blotches. “You, too, doll. You’ve got a king-sized headache coming up. Now’s the time to get off the merry-go-round. The ride’s over.”

Ingrid grabbed Liddell’s arm. “Give me a break. I’ll talk. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

The captain walked to his desk, picked up the phone. “Send in the third officer and the armed detail.” He dropped the receiver on its hook. “I’ll keep them under armed guard until we reach New York.”

Laura Conway licked at her lips. “You don’t mean— you don’t mean that Tom will go to jail?”

Liddell nodded. “But not for as long as if he didn’t cooperate. You see, Allen and the girl made a big thing about not going on shore at Curaçao. Your husband brought the diamonds on board. If he voluntarily testifies where they were going, where they came from, I think he might make himself a deal.”

“He’ll tell,” the woman said grimly.

“How about us, Mr. Liddell? We didn’t know anything about it,” Belle Doyle pleaded. “They can’t put us in jail if we didn’t do anything, can they?”

“You’re in the clear. They just used you, like they used all the other winners.”

“But the diamonds—if they were in our trunk, how would they get them?”

“Remember the third part of the prize? A night on the town when you arrived in New York? While you were being entertained, they’d come calling and remove the diamonds from the false bottom. This time, when they come calling, there’ll be a reception committee waiting for them.”

FIN

ABOUT FRANK KANE

Frank Kane was born in Brooklyn in July 1912, and by the time he was 19, he had graduated from New York City College, earning a BS. He attended St. John's Law School, but prior to graduating, his first daughter was born. He was told "better get a job and get some money pretty quick!" So he left law school and began to put his writing skills to use. He served a couple of years as a columnist for the New York Press, was Editor-in-Chief for the New York Trade Newspapers Corporation, and an associate editor for the New York Journal of Commerce. He also worked in public relations, as an advocate and spokesperson for the Liquor Industry. He apparently spent time on "the hill," in D.C., working with government officials to end the prohibition of consumption of alcohol. He did much work with the liquor industry throughout his career.

After World War II, he returned to public relations, as well as freelance writing, and later, radio and television production. His writing for a New York newspaper led to a syndicated Broadway column called New York From Dusk To Dawn, which profiled Hollywood movie stars visiting New York. The column was later made into a radio show, on which Kane featured popular movie personalities. He went on to pen scripts for some of the most popular radio programs on the air, including six years as the writer for The Shadow. Kane went on to write for a multitude of radio programs. In the detective-adventure genre, he spent three years writing Gang Busters. He also wrote for Counter Spy, The Fat Man, Casey, Crime Photographer, Mr. Keen, Tracer of Lost Persons, The Lawless Twenties and Nick Carter, Master Detective. He also created Call the Police for Lever Brothers, and created, wrote and produced Claims Agent for NBC, which was based on Kane's character, Jim Rogers. And in 1947, Frank Kane was selected to write the Coast Guard documentary You Have To Go Out, starring Robert Young.

But it was as the author of mystery novels about the adventures of Liddell that Kane was best known. Kane's first novel, About Face, placed detective Johnny Liddell in Hollywood to solve the murder of an ex-racketeer who became a power in the movie industry. The book could have been taken from the front pages of the newspapers at the time (1947), except that the novel was written months before the Bugsy Siegel murder. His novels, under his own name, and the pseudonym of Frank Boyd, sold multi-millions of copies in hard cover and paperback, and were translated into more than 17 languages. In the 1940's, '50's, and '60's, Kane wrote between close to 40 books, most featuring Johnny Liddell. He also claimed Liddell was the hero of more than 400 short stories featured in top detective magazines such as Manhunt, The Saint Detective Magazine, Private Eye and Pursuit.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

• About Face (1947, aka "Death About Face," " The Fatal Foursome"; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Green Light For Death (1949; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Slay Ride (1950; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Bullet Proof (1951; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Dead Weight (1951; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Bare Trap (1952; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Poisons Unknown (1953; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Grave Danger (1954; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Red Hot Ice (1955; Johnny Liddell)
  
• A Real Gone Guy (1956; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Key Witness (1956)
  
• The Living End (1957; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Syndicate Girl (1958)
  
• Trigger Mortis (1958; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Liz (1958)
  
• Juke Box King (1959; Mickey Denton)
  
• The Line-Up (1959; novelization of the TV series)
  
• Trial by Fear (1959)
  
• The Flesh Peddlers (1959; by Frank Boyd)
  
• A Short Bier (1960; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Time To Prey (1960; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Johnny Staccato (1960; novelization of the TV series; by Frank Boyd)
  
• Due Or Die (1961; Johnny Liddell)
  
• The Mourning After (1961; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Dead Rite (1962; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Crime Of Their Life (1962; Johnny Liddell)
  
• The Conspirators (1962)
  
• Ring-a-Ding-Ding (1963; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Hearse Class Male (1963; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Johnny Come Lately (1963; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Barely Seen (1964; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Final Curtain (1964; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Fatal Undertaking (1964; Johnny Liddell)
  
• The Guilt Edged Frame (1964; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Esprit De Corpse (1965; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Two To Tangle (1965; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Maid In Paris (1966; Johnny Liddell)
  
• Margin For Terror (1967; Johnny Liddell)