The Golden Gizmo

you to get away from here as far and as fast as you can before they put the arm on you.'

'There hasn't been any rumble yet.'

'There will be,' Airedale assured him grimly. 'It's building up right now. That little hustler, the ringer that's standing in for Elaine, don't like jail.'

'So?' Toddy shrugged. 'She's in up to her ears. It would be easier for her if she liked it.'

'She don't like it,' Airedale repeated, 'because she's on the dope. She's a heroin mainliner.'

Toddy gulped. 'But why in the hell did she-'

'Why do they do anything when they're hitting the H?' growled Airedale. 'She spent so much time in the hay she was starting to moo, but she still couldn't pay for her habit. So she stands in for Elaine, and then she gives me the bad news. I'm over a barrel, see? I've got to take care of her. I got to put in a fix and see that she gets the stuff. Either that or I'm out of business. She'll squawk that she ain't Elaine.'

Airedale paused to light a cigar. He took a disconsolate puff or two, and sat staring at the glowing tip.

'Well… I've had a doctor in every day. Cold shots, y'know. But that can't go on more'n a few more trips. Even if no one wised up and I was getting those shots for a buck instead of a hundred, I'd have to break it off. I wouldn't play. I've got my own kind of crookedness. It don't drive people crazy. It don't kill 'em.'

He paused again, and gave Toddy an apologetic glance. 'Not,' he said, 'that some of 'em don't need killin'. It's just a manner of speaking.'

'Skip it,' said Toddy. 'Will she keep quiet as long as she gets the stuff?'

'Why not? She ain't a bad kid. She doesn't want to cause any trouble. She's beginning to see that I can't keep her fixed, and she ain't kickin'. She'll just go out on her own again.'

'She won't be able to do that. They'll stick her on a conspiracy charge.'

'Huh-uh.' Airedale wagged his head. 'She'll get out. She'll get all the stuff she wants. You've read them papers? Well, that little gal's worth her weight in white stuff to certain parties.'

The bondsman stubbed out his cigar, sighed, and reached inside the pocket of his coat. He brought out a railroad timetable and proceeded to scan it. After a moment, he looked up.

'What do you think about Florida this time of year?'

'I'm not going anywhere,' said Toddy. 'Not yet, anyway.'

'I am,' said Airedale. 'I like my fireworks on the Fourth of July. Here's hoping it'll be safe to come back by then.'

He waited, as though expecting some comment, but Toddy only nodded. Naturally, Airedale would have to get out of town. The scandal would die down, eventually, be superseded by other and livelier scandals. Meanwhile, Los Angeles would be made extremely uncomfortable for the bondsman and his various political connections.

Airedale rose, looked into the crown of his derby, and emitted a bark of pleasure. 'Well, look at that,' he said, pulling forth a roll of bills. 'And just when you'd changed your mind about leaving!'

'Thanks.' Toddy pushed back the roll. 'It isn't that. I've got money.'

'So? What else do you need?'

'Nothing you can help me with.'

'I can help you a little,' said Airedale. 'I can tell you to forget it if you're figuring on copping a plea. Juries don't like these cases where the body is disposed of. It shows bad faith, see what I mean? You try to cover the crime up and then, maybe, when you see you can't get away with it, you ask for a break. They give you one. Up here.'

'But-Yeah,' said Toddy, dully, 'I suppose you're right.'

Airedale slammed on his derby and started to turn away. 'I don't get it,' he snarled. 'What are you hanging around for? Why ain't you on your way?'

'I want to find out who killed Elaine.'

'Brother,' said Airedale, 'that does it!'

'If I run,' said Toddy, 'I've got to keep running. A few hundred or a few grand won't be enough. I've got to be squared for life.'

'You've got something good lined up, huh?' said Airedale. 'Why didn't you say so in the first place? What-never mind. Can you pull it off by yourself?'

'It's the only way I can do it. But I'll need more time, Airedale. A couple of days, anyway. I really wanted three, but-'

'Two,' said Airedale. 'I'd figured on twenty-four hours-enough time for me to clear out. But I'll fix the gal for two; I'll pay for that much. She may not get the stuff if I'm not here, but… Oh, hell. I guess it'll be all right.'

They shook hands and Airedale left. A drink in his hand, Toddy sat down on the bed and mulled over the situation. Some of his normal fatalism began to assert itself. He grinned philosophically.

He undressed and climbed into bed. Lying back with his eyes open, he stared up into the darkness.

McKinley had promised not to have him tailed. It wouldn't be necessary. Placed at strategic points, a mere handful of men, with the license number and description of a car, could follow its movements even in a city as large as Los Angeles. So there was only one thing to do- rather, two things. Change the license, change the description.

Milt would be stubborn. He'd do nothing unless he was made to-so he'd be made to. There'd be no spot-check, no tails, no T-men to interfere.

24

At nine-thirty the next morning, Toddy finished a leisurely breakfast in his room and called McKinley. The bureau chief sounded annoyed as he told Toddy where to pick up the car.

'You haven't seen Miss Chavez?' he asked.

'Seen her? Why the hell would I? I don't even know where-'

'Good,' said McKinley, in a milder tone. 'She's been after us to find out what happened to you. Wanted to see you in jail. Wanted to send you a note. I finally told her we'd turned you loose, and you'd left town.'

'That's-that's fine,' said Toddy.

'Yeah. You've got a job to do, Kent. You've got a wife. And Miss Chavez is as straight as they come.'

'And I'm not.'

'You're not,' agreed McKinley. 'You took the words right out of my mouth.'

He hung up the phone. Toddy slammed up his receiver, and finished dressing.

He was irritated by the conversation, but more than that, worried. Dolores knew about Elaine's death. She'd be wondering why, after holding him, Toddy, three days, McKinley had suddenly freed him. She'd be sure that instead of merely leaving town, as McKinley had told her he had, he'd try to leave the country. She'd know that he'd need plenty of money to leave on and that he could only get it in one way.

As long as he was in jail, her deal with the government was safe. They wouldn't care, when the news of the murder broke, whether she'd known about it or not. But if he skipped the country and committed another crime in the process of skipping…

No-Toddy shook his head. That wasn't like her. She wouldn't be concerned for herself, but him. She'd want to help him. And that, in a way, was as bad as the other. He couldn't tell her anything. This had to be a one-man show.

Toddy took a final glance around the room, left it, and headed for the elevator.

The car was parked a few blocks away. He almost laughed aloud when he saw it. It was a medium-priced sedan, exactly like thousands of others of the same make to a casual observer. But Toddy was not observing casually, and neither would the T-men.