West of Guam (42 page)

“But you weren’t so wise,” Jo said calmly and softly. “You don’t know how much I knew, how much I had been told. So you thought I might be watching you, rather than the woman in black. You didn’t know that Mendez had told me a woman had the Von Loffler diamonds. You called me, after she had given you the diamonds, afraid of me. The two of you gave the child beads of blue glass, cut very much like the Von Loffler stones. You wanted me to
believe
what you had suggested—that the woman in black was smuggling the stones through the customs—so that
you
could get them through without trouble. But you played too strongly.”

The thin-lipped man was staring at him, breathing slowly and heavily. His right palm was still flat over the diamonds; his left arm rested on the table. The ship rolled and his body swayed with it. Jo Gar said:

“You didn’t disguise your voice—and you couldn’t speak to me when I addressed you, for fear of detection. That worried you. You knew you were being watched by Porter, and you had a confederate call me while
you
were seated in the smoking room. You had worked well with him, but his voice was not exactly like yours. Even so, for a little time I thought that you were not the one who had called me. And then I realized what you had tried to do—to make me believe that very thing. And I knew that you
were
the one. So I came here—for the diamonds—nine of them.”

There was a little silence. The thin-lipped man said in a harsh, strained tone:

“You got to Jetmars—you scared her and—she squealed.”

The Island detective shook his head. “I haven’t spoken a word to her,” he said steadily. “You were too worried about yourself—and too greedy. You betrayed yourself.”

The thin-lipped one took his palm away from the diamonds. Jo Gar said softly:

“Please keep both arms—on the table. How many stones—are there?”

The one at the table did not speak. Jo Gar moved the gun muzzle sharply.

“Many men have died because of the stones,” he reminded. “One more thief—one murderer—it would not matter too much. How many stones—have you?”

The thin-lipped one said huskily, the peculiar flat note barely evident:

“Five—the woman has—the others. Four of them.
You
have one, Gar.”

There was hatred in his voice as he used the Island detective’s name. Jo said softly:

“I would not lie—where are the other four stones?”

The thin-lipped one said savagely: “I tell you—the woman in black—she has them. She would not give them all to me. She is the one who—”

The Island detective smiled coldly. His gray-blue eyes were almost closed.

“Raise your arms,” he said slowly, “Keep them raised. If you do not—”

He made a swift—strangely swift movement for him, as the thin-lipped one obeyed. When he stepped away from the man at the table there were five diamonds in his left palm. They felt warm and very good. He said steadily:

“We will stay here until a certain diamond expert comes to the cabin, with the captain. When the stones have been inspected we will go to the woman in black. We will obtain the other four stones.”

The lips of the man at the table were tightly pressed and thinner than ever. He parted them suddenly.

“It is she who—”

The phone buzzed. Jo Gar moved towards it, but did not take his eyes from the figure of the man in the chair. He spoke into the mouthpiece, as he slipped the diamonds into a pocket.

“Señor Gar—”

Porter’s voice said: “Did the buzz catch you in time? He went from the smoking room pretty fast.”

The Island detective kept his eyes on the thin-lipped one. He said:

“Yes—it reached me in time. I was prepared for Mr. Tracy. Will you please call the captain and tell him—”

His words died as the thin-lipped one hurled himself from the chair, slashing his right arm at the Colt. Jo squeezed the trigger of the gun as it was battered to one side. There was a crashing sound, and then the thin-lipped one’s fingers were on his throat; his white face was close to Jo’s.

He muttered hoarse, distorted words as his fingers tightened their grip. He was strong; the swinging arms of the detective failed to hurt him. Already Jo’s breath was coming in short gasps; his efforts to get free of the man’s grip were growing weaker.

His head was pulled close to the thin-lipped one’s body; there was a mist in his eyes. Blackness was coming now; he was choking terribly. He felt his body swung to one side; his head was battered against the wall of the cabin. And then, once again, the room was filled with a crashing sound. The strangler’s body jerked; he cried out hoarsely. His fingers went away from Jo’s throat; he swung gropingly towards the cabin door. Jo stared towards it, his vision clearing. It was half opened.

Voices reached him faintly from the corridor; they grew louder. The thin-lipped one was down on his knees now; he sprawled at full length, his left-hand fingers pawing at the small of his back. Then, very suddenly, he was motionless.

Jo Gar stared towards the half-opened door. He breathed hoarsely, sucking in deep breaths of air:

“He would have killed me—and yet—he was murdered—the woman in black—”

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought his eyes had seen dark color, just after the shot had crashed. And if the woman in black had thought that the thin-lipped one had said too much, if she had overheard, following him to his cabin—

Porter’s voice was calling from the corridor: “Señor Gar—Señor Gar!”

There were heavier footfalls now. Gar tapped the pocket into which he had slipped the diamonds. He was sure they were real. Five of them, and there was the one he already had recovered. Six stones—with four still missing. And the one who could have told many things—he was dead.

The Island detective knew that, even before he bent over the man, calling hoarsely:

“Yes—Porter—it is—all right—”

Porter came into the room, pulling up short at the sight of the man on the floor.

“Heard the crash sound—over the phone—” he muttered.

Jo Gar straightened and smiled a little. “I was forced to shoot,” he said more clearly. “But he got me by the throat—”

Ship’s officers were inside the room now. The second officer stared at the figure on the floor, then at Jo.

“You shot him?” he breathed. “You had to shoot him, Señor—”

Jo Gar shook his head. Porter leaned down suddenly and lifted something from the floor near the doorway. The Island detective said: “He had five of the Von Loffler diamonds—I’ve got them now. I tried to shoot him, but I failed. He was shot in the back, from the corridor.”

The second officer drew in a sharp breath. “You saw who it—”

Jo Gar shook his head. “I saw nothing,” he said very slowly. He was sure that he had seen black color—the color of a woman’s dress. “He was choking me—”

The newspaperman extended a palm. “What’s this?” he muttered. “Just picked it up near the doorway.”

Jo looked at the bead in Porter’s palm. He shook his head very slowly.

“It looks very much,” he said huskily but with little tone, “like a bit of blue glass.”

The room was in a cheap hotel, a few blocks from Market Street. The room had two windows, one of which faced the Bay. Jo Gar, his small body sprawled on the narrow bed, shivered a little. San Francisco was cold; he thought of the warm winds of Manila and the difference of the bays.

He sighed and said softly to himself:

“Four diamonds—if I had them I could return to the Islands. I do not belong away from them—”

The telephone bell on the wall jangled; Jo Gar stared towards the apparatus for several seconds, then rose slowly. He was dressed in a gray suit that did not fit him too well, and his graying hair was mussed. He unhooked the receiver and said:

“Yes.”

A pleasant voice said: “Inspector Raines, of the customs office. I have information for you.”

Jo Gar said: “That is good—please come up.”

He hung up the receiver and stood for several seconds looking towards the door. One of his three bags had been opened, the other two he had not unlocked. The
Cheyo Maru,
bringing him from Honolulu, had arrived three hours ago, and there had been much for the Island detective to do. In the doing of it he had gained little. Perhaps, he thought, Inspector Raines had done better.

He took from one of his few remaining packages a brown-paper cigarette, lighted it. His gray-blue eyes held a faint smile as he inhaled. Down the hall beyond the room there was the slam of the elevator’s door, and foot-falls. A man cleared his throat noisily. Jo Gar put his right hand in the pocket of his gray suit at his right side, went over and seated himself on the edge of the bed, facing the door. A knock sounded and the Philippine Island detective called flatly:

“Please—come in.”

The door opened. A middle-aged man entered, dressed in a dark suit with a light coat thrown across his shoulders. The sleeves of the man’s suit were not within the coat sleeves; it was worn as a cape. Raines had sharp features, pleasant blue eyes. His lips were thick; he was a big man. He said:

“Hello, Señor Gar.”

Jo Gar rose and they shook hands. Raines’ grip was loose and careless; he looked about the room, tossed a soft, gray hat on a chair. Jo Gar motioned towards the other chair in the room, and the inspector seated himself. He kept the coat slung across his shoulders.

Jo Gar said slowly, almost lazily: “Something was found?”

The inspector frowned and shook his head. He took from his pocket a small card. His picture was at one corner of the card, which was quite soiled. There was the printing of the Customs Department, some insignia that Gar merely glanced at, a stamped seal—and the statement that Albert Raines was a member of the San Francisco customs office.

Raines said: “The chief thought I’d better show you that right away, as we hadn’t seen each other.”

The Island detective smiled. “Thank you,” he replied, and handed the card back. “Something was found?”

Raines shook his head. “Not a thing,” he said.

“We held her up for two hours, and we searched everything carefully. We even searched the child—the child’s baggage. We gave her a pretty careful questioning. For that matter—everybody on the boat got about three times the attention we usually give. And we didn’t turn up a stone.”

Jo Gar sighed. Raines said grimly: “If the diamonds were on that boat—they got past us. And that means you’re in a tough spot, yes?”

The Island detective said: “I think that is very much—what it means.”

Raines said in a more cheerful tone: “Well, the chief said you recovered six of the stones, between Manila and San Francisco—that’s not at all bad.”

Jo Gar smiled gently: “I was—extremely fortunate,” he said. “But the woman in black—I had hopes that the four diamonds—”

Raines said quickly: “So had we. When we got your coded wire telling us that you suspected her of the murder of the man you recovered five stones from, but that you couldn’t prove a thing against her, we figured we might be able to help. We weren’t. But we did as you requested—when she left the dock we had a man follow her.”

The Island detective said: “Good—she went to a hotel?”

Raines shook his head. “Don’t suppose you’ve ever been out around the Cliff House, Señor Gar. It’s a spot out on a bunch of jagged rocks, about an hour from town. A sort of amusement park has grown up around it. Seals fool around in the rocks and the tourists go for it strong. The woman took a cab, and our man took another. She went to the amusement park near the Cliff House.”

Jo Gar’s gray-blue eyes widened slightly.

“She spent more than three weeks on the
Cheyo Maru,
” he breathed slowly. “And when she landed and had been cleared after an exhaustive customs examination, she went to an amusement park. Strange.” Raines made a grunting sound. “Damn’ strange,” he said. “Took all the baggage, which included a trunk we’d gone very carefully through. And the child.”

Jo Gar narrowed his eyes and looked beyond the inspector. He said quietly:

“In Manila we have an amusement park that is quite large. After entering the main gate there are many places one can go.”

Raines nodded. “It’s like that here. Only this park has several entrances, and you can drive through a section of it. The cab went in one entrance, stopped for a while near a merry-go-round—went out another. Then it went to a house and stopped. The luggage was taken inside, and the woman and child went in. Our man stayed around a short time, but nothing else happened.”

The Island detective said: “You have the address?”

Raines nodded. He took from his pocket a small slip of paper, on which were scrawled some words, handed it to Jo Gar.

The Island detective read: “ ‘One hundred and forty-one West Pacific Avenue.’ ”

Raines nodded. “That’s it—Cary said it was a frame house, set back a short distance from the road. The section isn’t much built up out there.”

Jo Gar nodded. “It is very good of you to bring me this information,” he stated.

Raines made a swift gesture with both hands. “That’s all right,” he said. “Cary has another job just now, or he’d have come along to tell you about it. Looks queer to me.”

The Island detective spoke slowly. “It is not
necessary
to drive through the amusement park, in order to reach this address?” he asked.

Raines said: “Hell, no—that’s what seems funny. That woman was trying to hide where she was going. Maybe she figured she
might
be followed.”

Jo Gar nodded. “I think you are right,” he said. Raines got to his feet, held out his right hand.

“Sorry the office couldn’t get something on her at the pier,” he apologized. “But you know where she is—and you know she acted funny getting there.”

Jo Gar smiled and shook the inspector’s hand. He sat down on the bed again as Raines took his hat. When Raines reached the door, he said:

“Luck on those other four.” He grinned and went out. Going along the corridor he whistled. The elevator door slammed.

Jo Gar got to his feet with remarkable speed for him. He got his coat and hat, was out of the room quickly. He used the stairs instead of the elevator. When he reached the small lobby he saw Raines light a cigar, go outside and raise a hand. A cab pulled close to the curb. When it started away the Island detective hailed another parked some feet from the hotel entrance. He said to the driver: