Graveyard Plots (3 page)

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Authors: Bill Pronzini

Tags: #Mystery, #Mystery & Crime

BOOK: Graveyard Plots
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"What else can I do?"

"I can put a couple of men on your house in case he tries something."

"No, Len," Agenrood said. "How would that look?"

Len nodded slowly. "Yes, I see what you mean."

"I don't think he'll do anything until after he talks to me," Agenrood said. "I'll be all right."

"If he calls, you let me know right away."

"I will."

Len stood. "Try not to worry, will you? We'll find him before
long."

Agenrood did not speak. The two men went to the door. When Len had gone, Agenrood closed the door and stood looking at it for a long moment.

"I hope so," he said finally, in a whispering voice. "I sincerely
hope so."

 

O
n Saturday night, shortly past eight, Cain left the Graceling Hotel for the first time since Thursday evening. There was an icy
wind off the bay, blowing ethereal wisps of fog overhead; he walked
quickly. On Pine Street, near Powell, he entered a quiet, dark cock
tail lounge. He ordered a draft beer from the red-vested barman,
and then carried it with him into the rear of the lounge to where a
public telephone booth stood between the rest room doors.
Inside the booth, Cain set the glass on the little shelf beneath the phone and dialed the same number that he had on Thursday night.

Presently, there was a soft click and a man's voice said guardedly,

"Yes?"

"Agenrood?"

A brief pause. "Yes?"

"Did you get my note?"

Another pause, longer this time. Then, "I received it."

"Did you understand it?"

"I think I did."

"Good," Cain said. "I thought you would."

"Just who are you?"

"You don't really expect me to tell you that, do you?"

"All right, then. How much do you want?"

"Two hundred thousand dollars."

Cain heard Agenrood suck in his breath.

"Did you hear me, Agenrood?"

"I heard you."

"Well?"

"I don't keep that kind of money."

"But you can get it readily enough."

"Suppose I don't agree?"

"What do
you
think?"

"You're making a large mistake," Agenrood said. "I represent—"

"I know who you represent."

"Then you're a fool."

"Two hundred thousand dollars," Cain said.

"If I pay it, you won't live to spend it."

"If you don't," Cain said, "you won't
live.
Period."

There was a long silence.

"Well. Agenrood?"

"I'll have to think it over."

Cain smiled. "You do that."

"How can I get in touch with you?"

Cain continued to smile. "Stay by your phone, Agenrood," he said, and replaced the receiver.

James Agenrood paced the wine-colored carpet in his study ner
vously. He said, "He called about eight tonight, Len."

The distinguished man stood holding a snifter of brandy by Agenrood's desk. His features were grim. "And?"

"He wants two hundred thousand dollars."

Len said, "My God!"

"He's deadly serious. It was plain in his voice."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Agenrood said. "That's why I asked you to come
by."

Len rolled the brandy snifter between his hands. "If you pay him," he said slowly, "it won't be the last time. If he knows you're
worried, worried enough to come up with the money once, he'll be
back. Again and again."

"Yes. I was thinking the same thing."

"I'd like to say Reilly and Pordenza have something further," Len
said. "Or that somebody on that list you gave me checks out as
possible."

"But there's nothing, is there?"

"Nothing at all."

"Then I've got to pay him," Agenrood said. "Either that, or—"

He left it there, moistening his lips.

Len walked across to the wine-colored drapes covering a large picture window. He stood with his back to Agenrood. After a time he said, "That would be very dangerous, Jim."

"I know."

"You're established now, both here and with the National Office. And you're important to us, Jim. Very important. I think you realize what I mean. If something went wrong . . ."

"I know that, too," Agenrood said.

Len turned and met Agenrood's eyes. "I don't advise that alternative," he said.

"Do you think I like the idea of it any better? But it doesn't look like I have much choice, does it?"

Len did not say anything.

"Will you help me, Len?" Agenrood asked.

"I don't know."

"I've never asked you for a favor before."

"No, you haven't."

"I want two men, that's all."

The distinguished man worried his lower lip. "How do you know he'll leave himself open? He's done the rest of it very shrewdly."

"If he doesn't, I can arrange it."

"Are you sure?"

"No," Agenrood said. "I'm not sure."

"When is he supposed to contact you again?"

"He didn't say. I don't think it will be too long, though."

"I see."

The two men stood quietly for several minutes. Agenrood said then, "More brandy, Len?"

"Yes."

Agenrood poured more brandy for each of them. They stood drinking in silence. Finally, Len said, "All right, Jim.
If
you can arrange a quiet place, out of the way.
If
you can do that."

Agenrood inclined his head and, wordlessly, they continued to stand drinking their brandy in the dark study.

 

T
he telephone booth in the lobby of the San Francisco Hilton Hotel smelled of lime-scented after-shave lotion. Cain did not like the smell, but he kept the door shut nonetheless. He said into the receiver, "What's your decision, Agenrood?"

"All right," Agenrood said. "I don't have any other alternative, do
I?"

"You're a wise man," Cain told him. "When can you have the money?"

"By Tuesday."

"Fine."

"How do you want to pick it up?"

"You bring it to me. Personally."

"There's no need for that."

"There's a need for it," Cain said.

There was a long silence, and then Agenrood said, "Whatever you say."

"If you don't come yourself, I'll know it."

"I'll come myself."

Cain nodded in the booth.

Agenrood said, "Where do I go?"

"Are you familiar with the Coast Highway, just south of Rockaway Beach?"

"Yes."

"There's a Standard station on the highway there that has gone out of business," Cain said. "Loy Brophy's is the name of it. Park in there, by the pumps, at midnight Tuesday. When you see headlights swing in off the highway, and they blink off and then back on again, follow the car. Have you got all that, Agenrood?"

"Yes. Is that all?"

"Just one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Make sure you're alone."

Cain left the Hilton Hotel. A block away, he hailed a taxicab and
told the driver where he wanted to go. The driver looked at him curiously for a moment, and then shrugged and edged out into the light Sunday afternoon traffic. Cain settled back against the rear seat, lit a cigarette, and thought out carefully what he was going to say when he arrived at his destination.

James Agenrood said, "That's all of it, Len. Just as he told it to me on the telephone."

The distinguished man shifted in his chair. He took the briar pipe from his suit pocket and looked at it for a moment. "It sounds like he's covering himself from all angles."

"Not quite."

"No," Len agreed. "Not quite."

"He won't be able to see inside my car unless he pulls right up next to me at the pumps. And even if he does that, it will be dark enough in the back seat to hide anybody down on the floorboards. He'd have to get out and walk right up to the car, and he's not going to do that, not there on the highway. He's got some other place in mind."

"Suppose that other place is one that's well-lighted, with a lot of people around?"

"I don't think so, Len," Agenrood said. "If that was his idea, he wouldn't have set it up for Rockaway Beach; that's a pretty dark and sparsely populated area. And he wouldn't go through all that business about blinking his headlights off and on, and then leaving with me following him."

Len nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe you're right."

"I think I am."

"Why do you suppose he wants you to bring the money personally? You'll see his face that way."

"I don't know," Agenrood admitted. "He has to be a little crazy to try something like this in the first place, and there's no way of telling what could be going through his mind. Maybe it's just a
precaution against a trap and he's covering himself the way you
said."

"Maybe," Len said. "And maybe he intends, once he has the money, to finish what he started Wednesday night."

"Yes," Agenrood said, taking a breath. "But it doesn't really mat
ter, does it? If that's what he plans to do, he won't have the
chance."

"I don't like it. It's damned risky."

"No riskier than turning him down, and then having to look over
my shoulder every time I go out for a package of cigarettes until you locate him.
If
you locate him."

Len filled his pipe. When he had gotten it lighted, he said, "Reilly
and Pordenza?"

"I know Pordenza. He's very capable."

"So is Reilly."

"All right, then."

"He told you he'd know if you didn't come yourself?"

"That's what he said."

"He might plan on watching your house, then."

"I thought of that."

"But we can't do anything there."

"No."

"How do we get Reilly and Pordenza into your car?"

"They can come across the rear of my property and slip in through the back entrance to the garage. I'll have the garage door
closed, and if he's out on the street somewhere he won't be able to
see inside. They can get in and out of sight before I come out."

"That sounds okay."

"I guess that's it, then."

"Yes, that's it. But listen, Jim, I don't want to lose you, and neither does the National Office. Go easy Tuesday night."

"I plan on doing just that," Agenrood said. "Everything is going
to turn out just fine."

"I hope so. Because if there's any trouble, I can't help you, Jim.
As much as the National Office likes you, they won't go to bat for
you if there's a foul-up."

"I'm aware of that."

"Good luck, then."

Agenrood smiled faintly. "And good hunting?"

"Yes," Len said. "And good hunting."

 

A
t twenty minutes past nine on Tuesday night, Cam left the Graceling Hotel and walked to the corner of Taylor and Eddy streets. There, he entered a gray stone building; over the building's entrance was a yellow-and-black sign that read: RIGHT-WAY RENT-A-CAR—$25 PER DAY, .50 PER MILE.

It was five minutes till ten when he emerged from an adjacent parking facility, driving a new, light brown, two-door hardtop. He had had no difficulties.

The luminescent dial of Cain's wristwatch read ten-forty when he parked the hardtop less than half a block beyond James Agenrood's red brick home on Devaney Way in Hillsborough. He eased his body down on the seat, remaining beneath the wheel; he adjusted the rearview mirror until he could see clearly Agenrood's garage, and the pale light that burned above its electronic door. He was not worried about being seen there, or of anything happening to him so near Agenrood's home; but he kept his right hand on the automatic in the pocket of his overcoat just the same.

Agenrood came out at eleven-thirteen; Cain saw his face clearly in the garage light. He was alone. He disappeared into the garage, and moments later the cream-colored Cadillac began to glide backward to the street. Headlights washed over the hardtop, but Cain was low enough on the seat so that he was sure Agenrood could not see him. The Cadillac swept past, and through the windshield now he watched it turn the corner at the first intersection and then vanish from sight.

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