The Shadow - 152 - The Rackets King by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1938-05-31T22:00:00+00:00

For once, Fritz’s face had lighted. His own lips moving, he was swinging his hand in time with Markham’s song. Cardona told the janitor to get busy with his mop and bucket. Fritz started work; Cardona got down to business with Markham, deciding that the janitor’s presence didn’t matter.

Word for word, Cardona gave his recollection of the conversation that he had held with Grell. He emphasized the fact that Grell had gone to Kalamazoo two weeks before, that he had spotted Channing there. He also mentioned that Grell had lost sight of the gambler for ten days.

“Grell held out one thing,” added Cardona. “He didn’t tell me that he was working for Tex Dybert. I found that out from Lopper. But Grell swore that he spotted Channing again, in Kalamazoo, at eleven o’clock - twelve o’clock, our time—on the night when Tex was murdered.”

Markham calculated slowly.

“If he did,” declared the detective sergeant, “Channing couldn’t possibly have bumped Tex.”

“That’s the whole idea of it,” said Cardona. “That’s why Grell claimed he had an alibi for Channing. But he wanted dough for it.”

The silence of the little office was broken only by the swish-swash of Fritz’s mop.

“Somebody bumped Tex,” declared Cardona. “We figured it was Channing. Grell said different. So the murderer knocked off Grell. Only, there’s nobody who could have done both jobs. Unless -“

Cardona thwacked the desk with his fist.

“Maybe it was Channing!” he exclaimed. “Suppose he made a deal with Grell. Channing was to finish Tex. Grell was to fix the Kalamazoo alibi. Only, last night, Grell tried to get too much dough. Channing decided the alibi might be worse than none at all. So he ducked around the corner, came in through the back. That would have been easy enough. He had time to stage Grell’s murder, and bluff me afterward.”

CARDONA liked the theory so much that he picked up the telephone and called the Cobalt Club. He learned that Commissioner Weston had not arrived, but was due soon. Alfred Formion was there, awaiting him.

The inspector hung up. His confidence had cooled.

“I’m going to spring that theory on the commissioner,” Joe told Markham. “But I know what he’ll say.

He’ll tell me to bag Channing, so as to prove it. Until we’ve got Channing”—Cardona’s tone was sour—

“the commissioner will laugh at my idea. He’ll want a better theory.”

Minutes passed, while Markham watched the changing expressions that Cardona displayed. Suddenly, Cardona snapped his fingers.

“Here’s a hunch, Markham! Those rackets have quit since Tex was murdered. So it’s a cinch Tex was running them. All right. Who was taking it on the chin? I’ll tell you: Alfred Formion!”

“You mean that Formion”—Markham was sputtering—”that he bumped Tex Dybert and Grell?”

“Not a chance,” snorted Cardona. “Formion was home the night that Tex was killed. I know that, because he bawled out his secretary, Miss Marcy, for not being there. Last night, Formion was with Commissioner Weston at the time when Grell was shot.

“But there’s another angle, Markham. Tex must have been getting a lot of dope about Formion’s business.

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