IF ever an innocent man believed himself a murderer, the case fitted Lewis
Bron. Pinkey observed that; and he saw something else. The bedroom door had cautiously opened; Bugs poked his head into sight. Pinkey nudged Slick, who also took a look.
'Do your stuff,' whispered Pinkey. 'Flash that badge and sell this guy Bron on the idea you're Quaine.'
Slick flashed the badge. Bron eyed it fearfully; when Slick announced that
he was Bill Quaine, from headquarters, Bron took it for granted. He stammered an
argument of self defense, but it sounded feeble and Bron knew it.
'Suppose you write out a confession,' suggested Slick. 'It'll go easier with you, if you do. Better get it down.'
Bron took the pen and paper that were handed him. With Parrington's body still in sight he was shaky; ready to do whatever told. Slick began to dictate;
and Bron copied. The way the smart crook handled it would have been a lesson for
the real Quaine, had he been present as a witness.
Meanwhile, The Shadow made no move.
This wasn't the sort of situation that could be cleared, like the one intended in Bron's office. There, death was to have been a sham; here, it was real. Bron had become so eager to swear that he had killed Parrington, that it would be difficult to make him realize the truth.
The Shadow decided to let plotters go further with their game, before he terminated it. Apparently, they had plenty of time; but that didn't last.
Crooks were due for an interruption, as sudden as the one that The Shadow had experienced.
From somewhere came the faint wail of a police car. Bugs caught that sound, gave a warning gesture that his pals saw. 'Come along!' snapped Slick, to Bron. 'You've written enough. We're going to take you somewhere else to finish it.'
He started Bron out through the door, with Pinkey and Bugs following.
Bron
had scarcely noticed Pinkey; he didn't even see Bugs.
When the group reached the stairs, The Shadow followed. He wanted to see the finish of this game; and he wasn't worried about Bron's safety. He knew that the auditor was too valuable for thugs to harm him.
At the bottom of the stairs, the crooks could hear the police car stopping
in front of the old apartment house. Pinkey drew Bugs aside.
'We're going out the back,' Pinkey told him. 'The mob's here - you take care of the bulls; while Slick and I haul Bron to the hide-out. Come around there, afterward.'
IN less than half a minute, Pinkey and Slick were gone with Bron, while skulking thugs were joining Bugs in the darkness of the rear hallway. Brought in from the back alley, those lurkers were eagerly watching the men who entered
from the front. A smarter crook than Bugs would not have pitched into Joe Cardona and the detective sergeant who came with the ace inspector. In fact, Pinkey had meant that Bugs was simply to cover the departure with Bron. But Bugs, with one kill to his discredit, was anxious for more. Pinkey had said to
'take care' of the bulls; and with Bugs; that meant to drill them.
Moreover, Joe Cardona was the one member of the force who had lived far too long, according to the mode of calculation used by Bugs Hopton.
Cardona was a man of hunches. He wasn't halfway to the stairs, before he scented danger. His swarthy face went suddenly grim; he shoved his stocky body in front of the accompanying detective sergeant.
'Look Out, Markham!' With the words, Cardona reached for a gun. 'Dive for cover!'
Foemen were leveling revolvers when Cardona shouted; but those crooks weren't the first to fire. Intervention came from the stairway. There, a strident laugh offered challenge that no crook could ignore. Thugs snarled their recognition of The Shadow's sardonic laugh; changed their aim to his direction.
The Shadow was speaking with bullets, as well as mirth.
His two guns produced a sudden staccato, as they coughed their leaden message. Crooks went diving for cover of their own, and all of them didn't make
it. Their own shots might have been blanks, for their aim was halted on its way.
Those who tried to get in accurate shots were dropped where they stood.
The ones who dived weren't able to keep their muzzles on the blackness where they knew The Shadow lurked.
Joe Cardona recognized The Shadow's laugh. From its tone, he knew that the
cloaked fighter had a route of retreat, if he needed it. That was why Cardona made for the street, taking Markham with him.
Out front were two patrolmen; Cardona wanted them with him, when he made another sally.
From among the scattered crooks, Bugs Hopton made a sudden lunge; then turned in the direction of the alley. He wasn't anxious to face The Shadow's fire; nor were the gorillas who went with him. Nevertheless, they were due to experience more battle. They could hear The Shadow's laugh, as he pursued them.
IN the alley, mobsters spread. The Shadow kept to the doorway, stabbing shots that were aimed for the spurts of his foemen's revolvers. Occasional yells told when crooks were clipped by The Shadow's withering fire. Finally, a shout was proof that Bugs and his crew had lingered too long.
The shout came from Cardona. He and his small squad had rounded the block to reach the alleyway.
Thugs took to their heels; and sweeping close behind them came The Shadow.
Bugs saw him; tried to dive away from an aiming automatic muzzle. The Shadow's arm swung; his fist sledged the mobleader's head.
It wasn't that Bugs was just lucky. The Shadow was easy with him, for a reason that was to become apparent later. That was why Bugs received The Shadow's weighted fist instead of the metal barrel of a gun. As it was, the jolt left Bugs half groggy.
Bugs didn't even wonder where The Shadow had gone. Hazily, he tried to find a car with mobbies in it. He didn't realize that his crew was hopelessly scattered.
As he thought of it afterward, Bugs was in luck when someone grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him behind the wheel of a coupe.
'Get goin' Bugs,' came a gruff voice. 'You gotta drive, while I watch for the bulls.'
Avenue lights were dancing ahead of him, but Bugs managed to maneuver the car, while the man beside him occasionally yanked the wheel to keep the coupe off the curb. As Bugs steadied, he kept his eyes straight ahead, while he sidemouthed the inquiry:
'That you, Joey?'
'Yeah,' was the reply. 'Don't waste no time, though. There's a car tailin'
us. Wait! I guess it's O.K. Just, some more of the mob.'
Taking a roundabout course, Bugs finally reached a darkened parking space alongside an old garage. He told Joey to wait, while he talked to the others.
When Bugs returned, he ordered Joey to come up with him.
They entered a doorway; reached the second floor of an old house that looked deserted. There, Bugs left Joey in a darkened hall, while he went in to find Pinkey and Slick.
Bugs didn't have a chance to tell what had happened. Pinkey motioned for silence. Slick was still working on Bron. The confession was nearing its completion. Bugs watched Bron scrawl the last line, then apply his signature.
'Thanks for bringing me here,' said Bron, plaintively. 'Its quiet. I could
think. I'm ready to go with you to headquarters.'
It was Pinkey who snorted a rebuke to Bron's suggestion. Pinkey had snatched the confession, and was reading it.
'You won't have to take a rap for this,' he told Bron. 'There's an easier way out. Listen, while I tell you.'
BRON listened. He was amazed when he learned what Thurley wanted done on the morrow. Even in his present plight, he foresaw bad consequences.
'If I accept those books,' he exclaimed, 'I can go to jail for it!'
