Scarlet Imperial (13 page)

She huddled there on the bed unable to stop shaking. And the front door buzzer sounded. She pulled her robe about her. She couldn’t move. She had to; it must be Towner; she couldn’t let Towner go away. She fled to the door, not stopping to light her way, afraid to light it lest she see someone. “Who is it?”

“It’s Bryan Brewer.” There was no doubting the voice. “Liza, open the door.”

She opened the door, only a hairline, ready to slam it in the face of a stranger. She saw Bry, behind him Franz waited. She pulled the door wide. “Bry.” Her voice broke.

He had his arm around her as if she were a child in nightmare. “For God’s sake, what’s the matter?”

She spoke rapidly to Franz. “That man Richards sent up here tonight wasn’t a policemen. He had a gun.” She couldn’t talk about it.

“Miss Eliza, he showed his badge. It was a policeman’s badge.”

She shook her head, it kept shaking. Bry said, “Where is he?”

“Gone.”

Bry said, “Then what—”

She whispered, “At the back—someone—”

Bry ran, Franz followed making lights as he moved. She was close after them. She couldn’t look as the bolt was withdrawn. She heard the door opened, she heard it closed.

“There’s no one out here.”

She tried to speak but only the whistling sound of her breath was heard.

Bry ordered, “Liza, stop it.”

Her voice gulped, “I can’t. I want to but I can’t.” Her teeth were chattering. “There’s been too much.”

His arm was strong about her as he moved her to the game room, put her into a chair.

Franz said, “There’s a doctor in Six B.”

She clenched the chair arms, trying not to hear the sound of her teeth. “I don’t need a doctor. I’m all right.”

Bry had uncorked a bottle from the portable bar. He didn’t look for a glass; he thrust it at her. “Take a big one.” He guided it to her mouth.

Her tongue burned and the fire ran into her veins, into her fingertips and toes. “Take another,” Bry ordered. She shook her head, then obeyed the decision on his face.

She said, “I’ll be all right now.”

Franz’ gentle face was above her. “If I can do anything, Miss Eliza.”

She managed to speak. “Thank you. I’ll call you.”

He hesitated. “I’ll get back to the elevator.” He went away.

She clutched Bry’s coatsleeve. “Be sure the door is locked after him.”

He put down the bottle and followed Franz. She didn’t relax even when he returned. “Are you sure you bolted the kitchen?”

“Absolutely certain.” He sat down on the couch facing her. “Don’t talk if it bothers you. But I would like to know what it’s all about. This man with the gun. What did he want?”

She said, “The Scarlet Imperial.”

For a moment his face didn’t change, then it did as if lightning had zigzagged across it. “What do you know of the Scarlet Imperial?”

She realized. It had never been spoken between them; it had never been mentioned in the office. She could not know of the Imp except through some outside source. She wouldn’t let herself start that awful trembling again. She held her hands clenched together. “I know it’s dangerous. Dangerous enough to mean death to the one who has it.”

“You’ve talked to Gavin.” It was statement. His voice was suddenly rough. “Where’s Gavin?”

“I don’t know. He’s gone to kill a man. Or be killed. Because I was silent.”

“You’re lying to me.”

“I don’t know. That is the truth.”

“You’ve seen him.” She didn’t deny it now.

He studied her face. “He did come here last night?”

It wasn’t a question but she answered. “Yes.”

He couldn’t sit quiet longer. He was on his feet, pacing the room. “Where did he go after that?” He stopped, swung to her. “That man. The one who was killed. Gavin—”

She lied. “No. The man who shot Hester, shot at Gavin too.”

“Is he hurt?”

Again she lied. “Just a scratch. It got him in the shoulder.”

He towered above her. “How do you know this?” His eyes narrowed.

“It happened up here.”

She shook her head. Her fingernails cut into her hands. “No. No. It was after they left the apartment.”

“You lied to that F.B.I. man.”

“I didn’t. I didn’t know Hester.” She begged understanding. “I couldn’t tell Jones everything. Gavin doesn’t want the law in on this. Not yet.” She lifted her chin, accused, “You don’t either.”

He didn’t deny it. He asked after a moment, “Do you know how to reach Gavin?”

“No.”

He didn’t believe her. She was silent, unprotesting.

His mouth took on a queer expression. “Did you know Gavin before?”

“Oh no!”

He said, “It’s funny he’d come to you, not to me. If you didn’t know him.”

“Maybe he hasn’t had a chance to come to you.” She took a breath. “He came to me because I had the Imp. I did bring it here, after that messenger tried to get it from me in the office. I was afraid to leave it there.”

“You gave it to Gavin?”

She evaded. “It was his.”

“It wasn’t his. He brought it to me.”

She asked him now. “Why did you want the Imp?”

He sat down again. “A client ordered it. A year ago. It’s taken me long enough to get it.” His laugh was brief. “I don’t have it yet. Maybe I never will.”

She hesitated. If she gave the jeweled egg to him now, she would be rid of it. Her apartment would be safe. Dekertian would have his royal treasure. Towner had missed that one piece of information, why Bry Brewer wanted the Imp. All she had to do was give it to Bry and everything fell in place. And how would Bry safely carry the Imperial away tonight?

She spoke only as a cover for her thoughts, mechanically. “The client is Feroun Dekertian.”

“No.”

She couldn’t believe she’d heard what he said. But he was repeating it, thoughtfully. “No—”

She cried out, “But you … you wired …” Her voice trickled into stark silence. She knew that click. It was the front door opening. She couldn’t move. Even her eyes were frozen.

Bry began, “What’s the matter—” and then he too heard.

The door closed. The soft footsteps moving across the foyer, through the living room, coming closer, coming here. She had to turn. She had to turn and look into the small, mean face of danger. Slowly her eyes lifted.

For the moment her heart stopped beating. It was only Gavin. She closed her eyes in relief.

Then swiftly she raised them again. It was Gavin. And in his hand was a gun.

He was speaking. She didn’t know his voice. He said, “Where is the Scarlet Imperial?”

She didn’t have to answer. Bry was striding across the room. “Gavin! For God’s sake, Gavin, where have you been?”

Bry couldn’t have seen the gun. He had Gavin’s shoulders, holding them with affection, shaking them slightly.

Gavin’s voice winced, “Easy there, old man.”

She cried, “Bry, his shoulder!”

Bry’s hands dropped. “I forgot. Eliza told me you’d been hurt.”

Gavin said, “It isn’t much.” He slid the gun into his coat pocket. “Didn’t expect to find you here.”

She took a breath. “How did you get in?”

He didn’t smile at her. “I copped a key.” He tossed his hat at the couch, took a glass from the cabinet, poured himself a drink, swallowed it. “Good thing I did. What did you do with the Imperial?”

Her voice was small. “I gave it to that—”

Bry cried unbelievably, “Eliza!”

Gavin sat down on the couch. “Hold it, Bry. You have plenty to catch up on.” His jaw hardened. “Let’s get this out of the way.” He turned his cold eyes on her. “You gave him a box.
What did you do with the Imperial?
”

She wouldn’t tell him. Not now. Neither he nor Bry had any intention of giving it to Dekertian. To them the Imperial was nothing but a piece of merchandise, to be delivered and sold. She would wait for Towner. Gavin would not take the Imperial from her at gun point. Not with Bry here. Gavin wasn’t working for the Bey.

Her voice was bewildered innocence as she spoke. “I don’t know what you mean. I told you what happened. That man had a gun. I gave him—”

Gavin smiled, a cold and terrible smile. “You gave him a box with a cake of soap in it.”

She opened her eyes wide, unbelieving. “No. Oh no.”

“Yes.”

She whispered, “How do you know that?” Her fearful face told him how she thought he knew. Another man who had been in Gavin’s way.

He said, “I told you I could find Pottsy. I found him.”

“It wasn’t Potts.”

“No, but Potts had run into him. Potts keeps his eye on the ball. The little guy was staying in a cheap dump on lower Broadway. We went up to his room. We could hear someone inside. He didn’t answer the knocking—so we went in.”

“Who is Potts?” Bry asked.

She answered, “Potts is one of the men trying to steal the Imperial.” Her lip curled. “Gavin and he are friends.”

Gavin said evenly, coldly, “The only way I could find your thief in a hurry was through Potts. I promised to cut him in on the Imperial deal if he’d take me to the guy. If Pottsy had the brains in his head he has in his nose, he’d not have trusted me.” His smile frosted. “But then, I had a persuader.”

Bry demanded impatiently, “What happened?”

“The little guy was dead.”

“Dead!” Her eyes burned.

Gavin closed his hands on his throat. “The quiet way. The safe way.”

Eliza whispered, “The police!” They’d follow Gavin here.

His eyes scorned her ignorance. “They don’t know it yet. I don’t make a habit of calling the police. Particularly when I’m in a room where I don’t belong in company with a man like Pottsy. The little man will be found soon enough.” He lighted a cigarette.

“What was his name?” Bry asked.

“I don’t know. Pottsy called him Joe. Potts didn’t know his name either. The chap was strictly local.”

Bry’s eyes were on the rug. His voice was husky. “The Imperial was gone?”

“The box had been torn open. There was a cake of soap in it.” He flung his fury at Eliza. “What did you do with the Imp?”

She had regained courage and with it, decision. She said, “I put it in that box. I tied it up and placed it on my shelf. I didn’t think it had been touched until I gave it to that man tonight—at the point of a gun.” She pressed the I and the implication behind it.

Bry came out of his study. “Gavin. Of course—whoever killed that man took the Imperial.”

“I’m thinking not. He had to get away fast, Bry. We were rattling the door.”

“He had time to pick up what he killed for.”

Gavin smiled. “I wouldn’t have been surprised to find an empty box. But not a cake of soap.” He laughed softly. “Why would he be carrying a cake of soap to put in that box, Bry? He was after the Imperial, not after fooling somebody.” He shook his head, still laughing, but his eyes weren’t laughing. They were on Eliza and they were blue stones.

Bry attempted further defense. “It might have been Joe who made the exchange. It might have been a doublecross of the one who hired him.” She nodded agreement.

Gavin said, “That’s what the man that hired him must have been thinking when he killed the squeaking mouse. He comes in when Joe is having a look at the box. He thinks it’s Joe putting a cake of soap in place of the egg. So he loses his temper. After he loses his temper and it’s too late, he starts looking around to see where Joe has hidden the loot. We interrupt. If that’s the story, he’ll think Pottsy and I found the egg.”

He laughed loudly.

“Here’s one just as good. The man who hired Joe was waiting for him in the room. Together they open the box. They find a cake of soap, the same kind of soap like in the bathroom here. The guy gets mad. This is the second time Joe’s been a dope. He grabs Joe; he doesn’t mean to kill him. He just doesn’t realize how mad he is. Until we knock on the door. If that’s the way it was, the guy who hired Joe knows the Imperial is still here. He’ll be back for it.”

She felt the whiteness of her face.

Gavin said to Eliza, “I rather favor that version. When did you put the soap in the box?”

She gave no quarter. “I might remind you that I haven’t been alone in this apartment at any time while the box was here. What were you doing while I was at the office all day?” She sucked in her breath at Bry’s face. Too late now. She struck again at Gavin. “You had opportunity. And purpose too.”

“What purpose?” His mouth dared her.

“You have no intention of turning the egg over to the Iranians. You told me that. You thought you and Bry were going to share the prize. When you found out different—”

He interrupted. “I didn’t find that out until tonight.”

“Didn’t you? You’ve found out every other thing you’ve wanted to know about those who have threatened the Scarlet Imperial.”

Bry’s words were muffled but they silenced the altercation. “Gavin has been staying here?”

She answered evenly, defiantly, “Yes. He had lost blood. From the bullet wound. I had to take care of him.”

Bry turned to Gavin.

“She took care of me.” He too was defiant. “Sure. I thought she was just a woman, worrying about a fellow going out in the rain without his umbrella. I didn’t know she was keeping me here to hang on to the Scarlet Imperial.”

Bry pulled in a breath. “I seem to be far behind on the business of the Imperial.” He was unbending. “Perhaps it’s merely that I’m out of it.” He looked from her to Gavin, as if he were certain now they were in league. He came slowly to his feet.

“No!” She cried it. He meant to go. He couldn’t leave her here with Gavin, she stood in Gavin’s way.

Gavin added, “No. I’ll catch you up, Bry, but first I want the Imperial.”

Bry said, “I don’t have it. God knows I wish I did.”

Gavin’s gun was out again, covering her. “Hand it over. If you don’t, I’ll take it the hard way.”

She closed her eyes. There was only one way to save the Imperial. She pretended the weariness of defeat. “You win. I took it. You needn’t tear up the apartment looking for it. It isn’t here.”

“Where is it?” The gun in his hand was blunt, ugly.

She flung up her head. “It’s where you can’t lay hands on it, where no one can lay hands on it until I’m ready to turn it over to you. And I shan’t turn it over to anyone until I know where it’s going and how it’s going to get there. I don’t want any more death.”