DEATH STALKS THE U.N. by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-11-14T23:17:47+00:00

CHAPTER IX

“ISN’T it a little unusual for a Commissioner to make an arrest?” asked Irene.

“In the first place I’m not making an arrest and in the second place, Mario, who owns this place, is a friend of mine and didn’t want any flat-footed cops walking in here.”

“If it’s not an arrest why should we go with you?” Tarr snapped.

“Because I ask you to, and it’s going to look a little bad for you if you don’t cooperate with me.”

“What’s up?” Irene asked. “I’m perfectly willing to help in any way.”

“Just for the sake of completeness I’d like to subject all of you to the lie detector.”

Arranging her furs around her soft white shoulders, Irene said, “What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

“Good girl.” Weston smiled his appreciation. “What about you, sir?”

Tarr shrugged. “I’ll go along with the gag.”

Cranston took Irene’s arm and followed the broad back of Weston outside to the waiting official car. In a cab nearby Shrevvie grinned at the sight. The way that babe was looking at the boss…

He followed the long black limousine down to Centre Street. He relaxed in his seat as he saw the passengers go up the stairs in between the green lights.

“You all know, I suppose, that courts do not allow lie detectors as evidence?” Tarr asked.

“That’s right,” Weston agreed. “This is just for the sake of clarification. We are hoping to get some clue, no matter how tiny.”

Following the direction of Cranston’s gaze, Irene saw a strange looking man being booked at the desk.

“Who’s that?” asked Cranston of Weston.

“His name is Peterson. At least that’s what’s on his passport. The whole thing is rather curious. We got a phone call, an anonymous tip that we should look into a car that had a certain license number that was driving down towards the East river. We sent out a radio car and nabbed that man and two others in the act of transporting a body from the car to the river.”

“Caught him red handed, eh?” Cranston asked. Of course, he knew all about it, for it had been The Shadow who had called. The dead man was the one that Captain Derry had stabbed. It had been Peterson whom Derry had phoned.

But Weston was saying, “In some way I don’t quite understand, the dead man is connected with our U.N. case. He was one of the attaches of the Molvannian delegation. Just one more complexity,” he sighed.

As they walked past Peterson he leered at Irene. “What’d they get you for, babe?”

Before any of them could move to prevent it, Tarr slapped Peterson across his fat mouth. “Keep that flabby trap shut! and I mean shut!” They left the fish tank behind them as they walked towards the center of the old building. Impregnated in the old wood was that curious compound of odors that identify police buildings the world over. It was made of dust and cleaning with dirty mops. Of disinfectants and of too many unwashed bodies. Of sweat and fear…

The room to which Weston guided them looked completely out of place.

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