flared through his mouth. He retched, staggered to one side and straightened painfully. Barada was stroking the knuckles of his right hand. “Thought you were tough,” he sneered.
The words echoed through the silent room. Novak rolled his shoulders and glanced down at Paula. His face was thin and bitter. He licked his lips and felt his hands clench. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“Don’t blame yourself,” she said huskily. “It’s my fault. All of it.”
“How true, baby,” Barada jeered. “Starting with you and Boyd. Got lonely at night, didn’t it? So lonely you had to share your bed.” His lips drew back over his teeth. “What about me in Joliet? Ever bother to give your husband a thought?”
“We’ve gone over that,” she said wearily. “Tell Novak what you want. The sight of you makes me want to vomit.”
A guffaw from Al in the corner. Barada whirled around. “Enough outa you,” he snarled. “Toss me the car keys.”
Tags spoke. “They’re in the car, Ben.”
“Move.”
Novak could hear Tags cross behind him, walk down the passageway into the kitchen. Barada turned to him. “Okay, sucker, Paula spilled what you did for her the other night—how you moved the body back to Boyd’s room. Just one of those helpful guys. Or was there maybe a payoff somewhere?” His eyes turned to Paula. “Did you get so grateful you slipped Novak the jewels?”
“Someone took them,” she said dully. “Novak was with me when I found they were gone.”
Barada laughed shortly. “They were gone all right because I took them. I was down in the lobby when I saw you go out. I skipped back to your room, found Boyd’s body on the bed and shook down the place.” He moved his head slowly. “I found jewelry and skipped out with it. What a surprise,” he said thinly. “Muzzlers. A phony set.”
“The stuff you sold back last night for a grand,” Novak said.
“Sure. I figured Paula still had the others, but she claims not. She’s not the bravest little roundheels in the world and the more fists she eats the more she claims she only had one set. That makes Boyd a cheapskate— which I doubt—or maybe someone else has them.” His eyes drilled into Novak. “Know what I think, peeper? I think you latched onto the real ones somewhere along the line and figured on giving the insurance company a little play —after we’d all left town.”
Novak blinked at Barada. “The phonies you took— where were they?”
Barada snorted. “Under her pillow begging to be found.”
Novak saw Paula’s eyebrows draw together. Her mouth opened, but he warned her with his eyes. To Barada he said, “I returned the phony set to Julia Boyd. Having done that how the hell could I try to make a deal with the insurance company for the real ones—if I had them?”
Barada shrugged. “Everyone makes mistakes,” he said coldly. “I make them, Paula’s made some, and so have you. But this is the time we straighten things out.”
The porch door slammed as Tags went out to the driveway.
Novak’s palms were sweaty. His throat felt like cold wax.
Barada said, “The jewels, Novak. You got them, I want them.”
“In exchange for what?”
Barada shrugged. “You walk out the door—the dame too, if you want her.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a trade,” Novak husked. “Suppose I don’t go along with it?”
Barada’s face went murderous. “This is an old empty house, Novak. Nobody comes around much. Not even the milkman. Maybe in a month or so a cop might peep in the window. Know what he’d find?”
Novak’s mouth tasted like dry sand.
Barada’s voice rose. “He’d find two bodies here. You and the dame. A pistol between you—yours. A suicide pact.” One hand rolled down a yellow cuff, buttoned it. “That’s what he’d find.”
Paula’s throat made a gasp of horror.
Novak blinked at him. “I wouldn’t care for that,” he said hoarsely. “Not at all.” His shoulders slumped, hands opened and closed emptily. Then his eyes narrowed. “How do I know you’ll let us go?”
Barada’s eyes flickered. He buttoned the other cuff. “That’s the chance you take.”
Novak turned to Paula. “Long odds, gray-eyes,” he said huskily. “It’s up to you.”
“No one’s asking her,” Barada flared.
“I’m asking her,” Novak snarled.
Paula writhed in the chair, straining her wrists and ankles against the cords that bound them. Her lips parted and she moaned, “He’ll kill us. Don’t do it!”
Barada leaped toward the chair. His hand snaked back and the palm slashed across her face. Her head snapped to one side, and she screamed in pain.
Novak jerked around. Al was against the wall with a gun in his hand. “Easy,” he spat.
Barada’s eyes were wild. His arms shook. Novak went slowly to the writing table and sat down. From Paula’s chair came the sound of racking sobs. A soul in torment, utterly without hope.
A sheet of paper lay on the table. Novak reached for his pen. He wondered what was keeping Tags so long. Uncapping the pen he wrote the date at the top of the sheet and turned around. “They’re in my desk,” he said thickly. “I’ll write a note to the night clerk. He’ll get the envelope and turn it over.”
On Barada’s face was a deadly look. He must be mad, Novak thought. A hophead or stir-crazy. He said, “Paula didn’t kill Boyd. Someone else did. Someone who waited there for Boyd to show up with the ninety-grand payoff money. Your story’s a little thin, Barada. Maybe you were the guy. The cops would sort of like that idea.”
“You’re wasting time,” Barada snapped. “Start writing.”
Novak gave him a crooked grin. “Time’s running out, but not for me. The clock’s turning, minutes are fading but I’ve got plenty of time. You forced Paula into trying to get money from Boyd in return for the jewels. Why? Because you owed sixty-five grand to Pike Hammond. Well, Hammond’s in town. Making you the guy in the big hurry, not me.”
Barada’s face was frozen. “Pike?” he gasped. “You’re lying.”
Novak’s head moved slowly. “How would I know if I hadn’t talked to him?”
On the porch the screen door slammed. Tags with the car keys. Careful boys, worrying over car thieves. The thought made him smile grimly. He laid the pen on the table and looked up at Barada. “My mother was Irish,” he said quietly, “and Celts have the gift of second sight.” His head tilted back. “I look at you, Barada, and I see a skull. A bleached skull with hollow eye sockets and a hole in place of a nose. Even as far away as you are you stink of death. It’s perched on your shoulder licking its filthy lips and waiting.” He laughed roughly. “You can’t frighten me, Barada. You’re as good as dead.” His elbow struck the pen, rolling it under the table. As he bent down for it he heard footsteps along the hallway. His hand groped, slid up his trouser cuff, grabbed the pistol and snatched it free. Whirling he dropped to his knees and shot Al. Twice. The reports were sharp and clear. Al bellowed in agony and slid to the floor.
Novak got up, backed to the wall and saw Al’s body shudder and lie still. His gaze fastened on Barada. “Everyone’s been so damn clever the little things get overlooked. Like this.” He moved the snout of the chrome- plated automatic. “On your knees, Barada. Untie her. Fast.”
His eyes gazed at the dark doorway. By now Tags should be among them. What had stopped him? From the corner of his eye he saw Barada fumbling at Paula’s ankles, then a lightning movement of one hand.
Before he could move there was a gun in Barada’s hand. A small one with twin barrels. A gambler’s gun, he thought as he dropped sideways and heard it bark. Then another shot. Deafening and from the doorway.
Barada made no sound. A little derringer fell from one hand. The other was already covering a stain spreading across his chest. The face grimaced horribly, the eyes went glassy and vacant. Suddenly he pitched forward.
From the floor Novak scanned the man in the doorway. A man in a houndstooth jacket and a brittle smile on his handsome face. The cool eyes fixed on Novak.
Pike Hammond said, “You didn’t know about Ben’s derringer. I did.” He opened his coat, put away the Colt. Then he stepped into the room and stared down at Barada. “The most expensive shot I ever made,” he said thickly. “Sixty-five grand it cost me.”
