The Con Man Page 5

  “But Levenstein didn’t do it himself,” retorted the young director. “It was probably his scheme, but he must have hired somebody to carry it out and why shouldn’t that have been Rennit?”

  Mr Myers’ eyebrows descended until they stretched in a straight line across his forehead.

  “There may be something in that,” he admitted. “Rennit’s done a whole lot of work for World Wide Films, and knows Levenstein well. Yes, I guess there might be something in that, Frank.”

  “It isn’t going to help much, anyway,” said Leyland gloomily. “You know, Elmer, the thing that’s worrying me is that the negative may have been destroyed.”

  “That’s what’s worrying me,” said the managing director of Mammoth Pictures, “and if it’s got to Levenstein’s hands I guess that’s what happened. And if that’s the case, I’m sunk.”

  He stared at the mass of untidy papers before him, a rather pathetic figure. Frank Leyland, who genuinely liked this man, experienced a wave of sympathy for him. Slipping down from his seat on the edge of the big table, he walked around and dropped his hand lightly on the hunched shoulders.

  “Let’s try and be optimistic, Elmer,” he said, forcing his voice to a cheery note he was far from feeling. “Perhaps it’s not as bad as all that — ”

  He looked up quickly as a shadow darkened the window. Mr Myers looked up too.

  “Who the hell — ” he began, and then the tall man who had paused outside crossed the threshold.

  “Mr Myers?” he said pleasantly. “You must forgive my unceremonious method of entering your house, but in the circumstances it was the only way.”

  Mr Myers rose quickly and stood, his hands gripping the edge of the writing-table while he stared at the newcomer. And then to his tired eyes came recognition.

  “By gosh, it’s Rivington!” he cried, and the next moment was round the desk, gripping the other’s hand and shaking it warmly.

  Paul smiled. “This — ” he turned to Bob who had followed him through the window “ — is my brother; I think you met him when you were over in England. If Bob and I could have a wash and a drink — ”

  “O.K.,” said Elmer Myers. “Come with me, and I’ll take you up to the bathroom. Wait here, will you, Frank; we shan’t be long.”

  Leyland nodded, and crossing to the door, Mr Myers held it open for his unexpected guests. Frank Leyland waited impatiently for them to return.

  Three minutes later, feeling — and looking — a great deal better for their wash, Paul and Bob settled themselves in the comfortable chairs which Elmer Myers pushed forward. With stiff drinks before them, they listened to their host’s account of the robbery of the film and his suspicions of Levenstein’s part in it.

  “You see the position now,” said Mr Myers, when he had finished, “and I guess it’s a darned unpleasant one.”

  “It is,” said Paul sympathetically. “Of course, this man Levenstein was counting on the fact that you would have, for your own sake, to keep quiet about the film having been stolen. He hoped that it would prevent you calling in the police, in case the secret should leak out.”

  “He knows that I dare not let it become known until I’m absolutely forced to,” said Elmer Myers. “And I suppose he thought by that time he would have succeeded in covering up his tracks. Now, Rivington, you know all about it. Do you think there’s any chance of your being able to help?”

  Paul looked at the drawn, anxious face of the man before him, and his heart was full of anger at the meanness of the plot that had been hatched against him.

  “If that negative is still in existence,” he said, “I’ll get it back for you.”

  Elmer Myers stretched out a hand.

  “Thank you,” he said simply.

  Chapter 8

  EXIT MR LEVENSTEIN

  The discovery that the film on which he had banked so much was gone filled Lefty Guinan’s heart with a bitter and consuming rage. He stamped up and down his room, uttering the most lurid oaths and curses, and heedless of the pacific attempts of Spike Munro to quieten him down.

  “There ain’t no sense going ga-ga,” said Mr Munro, helping himself to a fresh wad of gum and munching it steadily. “What we’ve gotta do is to look at the thing calmly.”

  It was excellent advice, and ordinarily Mr Guinan would have been the first to admit it, but his temper had got the better of him and he was impervious to reason.

  “Look at it calmly!” he cried savagely. “Sure, that’s right, take it as a joke! We’ve lost two hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars, and that old devil is laughing at us up his sleeve!”

  “You ain’t sure he took the film,” replied Spike. “I guess I don’t see how he could. There wasn’t time.”

  “What do you mean, there wasn’t time?” snarled Mr Guinan. “There was whales of time.”

  “How could he have got here and got away again after we left him?” began Spike argumentatively. “It ain’t possible!”

  “Ain’t you got brains?” snapped Lefty. “I’m not sayin’ he pinched the thing tonight. There were other times he could have done it, wasn’t there? We haven’t looked at the thing for three days until just now.”

  “There’s something in that,” said Spike, partly convinced.

  “There’s a lot in that,” retorted Lefty. “No wonder the old devil agreed to part so easily. I guess he knew he’d never have to pay out his money, the mean old skinflint. But I’ll get him, I’ll show him that he can’t double-cross me.”

  He began putting on his overcoat.

  “What are you going to do?” asked Spike.

  “I’m going up to Levenstein’s and have it out with him,” replied Guinan, “I guess he can do what he likes with the film, but I’m going to have that money.”

  The usual taciturn and sycophantic Mr Munro put his foot down.

  “Don’t be a fool, Lefty,” he said. “Levenstein’s probably gone to bed, and, anyway, you’re not in a fit state to see him tonight. You’re all lit up with hooch.”

  Lefty Guinan glared at his companion; he was not used to being spoken to in that way, particularly by the easy-going Spike.

  “Say, cut that out!” he murmured thickly. “I’m going to have it out with that old twister.”

  “I’m in this as well as you, ain’t I?” said Spike Munro firmly, “and if you do anythin’ silly I’m goin’ to get it in the neck as well as you. What’s the sense in goin’ all the way to Levenstein’s house when you’re goin’ to see him in the mornin’?”

  “If he turns up,” growled Lefty.

  “Sure he’ll turn up,” answered Spike. “I guess that if he’s pinched that film he’s not going to admit the fact by not turnin’ up. He’ll turn up and he’ll bring the money with him, and that’ll be our chance to get him. It’ll be easy enough at that place to do anythin’ and get away with it.”

  The angry glare died out of Lefty Guinan’s eyes and he slowly took off his overcoat.

  “I guess you’re right, Spike,” he said grudgingly. “Sure we can make the old beggar part up at that place, and, by heck, we will!” He clenched his fist and brought it down with a smash on the table. “We’ll beat him up so that his own mother wouldn’t know him — if he ever had one!”

  Mr Munro chewed steadily and silently. He had achieved his object and was not given to wasting words. They went to bed at last, and the rye whisky they had drunk brought a heavy and dreamless sleep.

  When he awoke in the morning, however, Lefty Guinan’s anger had in no way abated; if anything, it had increased. His rather blustering rage of the previous night had been replaced by a cold and infinitely more dangerous state of mind. When he and Spike set out for the disused studios where it had been arranged they should meet Mr Oscar Levenstein there was murder in his heart.

  They were ten minutes early, but they found the fat little film magnate waiting for them outside the big gate.

  “I couldn’t get in,” he said shortly. “You’ve got the only key.”


  Lefty grunted. He couldn’t trust himself to speak casually, and what he had to say he wanted to reserve until they were inside. He unlocked the small wicket gate that was set in the larger one, and stepped through into the untidy courtyard. Spike and Mr Levenstein followed him.

  “Now,” said Mr Levenstein impatiently when Guinan had closed the little gate. “I don’t want to hang about here longer than I can help — where’s that film?”

  Lefty Guinan faced him and his expression was ugly.

  “I guess you should know that,” he snarled meaningfully.

  Mr Levenstein’s hairless brows shot upwards.

  “I don’t get you,” he said coldly. “The arrangement was that you were to bring the film here at ten o’clock this morning and that in exchange for it I was to hand you over two hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars.”

  “I guess I know the arrangement all right,” snapped Guinan. “Sure, it was a clever arrangement, wasn’t it? You thought you were being very smart, didn’t you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Oscar Levenstein angrily.

  “I’ll say you don’t!” sneered Lefty Guinan. “Sure, you don’t. You don’t know anythin’ about that film, do you?”

  “I only know that you should have brought it here as you promised,” said the other, and his eyes narrowed. “What’s the idea of all this? If you’ve got it into your head that you can squeeze me for some more money you’re mistaken. I agreed to your demand for an extra two hundred thousand dollars, but I’ll see you in hell before you get another cent.”

  “I guess you do it fine and dandy,” Lefty Guinan nodded in mock admiration. “But it don’t cut any ice with this baby!”

  “You’re talking in riddles,” grunted the magnate.

  “Am I?” Guinan thrust his face forward until it was only a few inches from Mr Levenstein’s. “Well, I guess I’ll speak plainer, you double-crossing swine! You know very well that we can’t hand over that film, because we haven’t got it to hand over.”

  He spat the words out viciously, and Mr Levenstein, a little alarmed, took a step backwards.

  “What do you mean you haven’t got it — ” he began, when the full force of Lefty Guinan’s pent-up fury broke.

  “Ain’t I speakin’ plainly?” he hissed, “an’ you can stop bluffin’, Levenstein, as quickly as you like. It doesn’t get across. We know you pinched that film and that you’ve got it — ”

  “I’ve got it?” Oscar Levenstein’s brows drew together in a frown. “Don’t talk rubbish. How could I have got it?”

  “The same way as we got it,” retorted Guinan. “You pinched it from the trunk in my room and left an old comedy of Chaplin’s in its place. I guess you thought we shouldn’t know who’d taken it, but we’re not such saps as all that, and if you think you’re goin’ to get away with it, you’re not. You don’t leave this place until you’ve handed over the cash, so you can make up your mind to that!”

  As if by magic an ugly blue-nosed automatic had suddenly appeared in his hand, its menacing muzzle covering the fat body of the film magnate. Mr Levenstein’s large face went a dirty grey.

  “Put that thing away,” he cried hastily. “All this stuff you’re telling me is bunk. I don’t know anything about the film except that you’re supposed to bring it here this morning, and if somebody’s stolen it, it wasn’t me.”

  “Sure, it wasn’t!” said Lefty Guinan, and his eyes were murderous. “I guess nobody else knew it was there. You can’t get away with it, Levenstein. You’ve got that picture and you’ve got to pay up as agreed.”

  “I see.” Oscar Levenstein’s thin lips curled back, showing his white teeth in an unpleasant sneer. “You want jam on the gingerbread. So this is the new idea, eh? You tried blackmail, and now you’re going to try a hold-up. You want to get two hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars out of me and then you’ll go and take that negative back to Mammoth Pictures. It’s a swell idea, but I reckon it ain’t coming off. You can go to hell!”

  “Can I?” Lefty Guinan’s face became convulsed with sudden fury. “We’ll see who’ll reach there first.”

  His fingers tightened on the trigger of the automatic, and from the black muzzle came a stream of death. Mr Levenstein’s fat body gave a convulsive start as the bullets tore their way into his flesh. For a moment he stood rigid, staring at the gangster with a ludicrous expression of surprise, and then he seemed to crumple up, and without a cry fell, an obese, sprawling figure, on the concrete courtyard.

  “My God, what have you done, Lefty?” whispered Spike hoarsely, and there was horror in his voice.

  “Can it!” snarled Guinan, and his face had gone the colour of chalk. He was gazing at the still figure of the man he had killed as if it had been a ghost. “I didn’t mean to do it. I guess I lost my temper — ”

  “Let’s get away!” whined the frightened Mr Munro. “It’s a chair job now, if we’re caught.”

  With an effort his companion pulled himself together and thrust the still smoking pistol into his pocket.

  “We’re not goin’ to be caught,” he said, “but we’re not goin’ empty-handed. This guy’s got a wad of bucks on him which belongs to us, and we’re goin’ to have it.”

  He bent swiftly over the body of the film magnate, and presently straightened up holding a thick roll of bills.

  “Now let’s move,” he said, and went over to the wicket gate.

  Drawn up close against the wall was an expensive-looking coupé, and Lefty climbed up into the driver’s seat and pressed the starter. The engine started up at once, and almost before Spike had succeeded in scrambling in beside him Lefty had let in the clutch and sent the car jerking forward. He found some difficulty in turning the machine round in the narrow confines of the road, but he managed it. With ever-increasing speed the car shot down the road, negotiating a series of secondary roads, and came out into the main boulevard. But Lefty did not keep to this very long. A mile farther on he turned into a side street and passed a scattering of small houses into a stretch of road that ran along the foot of the hill. Here he brought the car to a halt and got out.

  “We’ll leave the thing here,” he said to Spike, looking quickly round to make sure there was nobody in sight, “and get back to Macks on foot. After that we’ll pay the score and clear off back to Chicago as quickly as we can.” He patted his hip pocket, and his unpleasant face broke into a smile. “And we’re not goin’ empty-handed, boy,” he added. “We’ve got a pile that’ll help us to hit the high-spots!”

  They reached the hotel-restaurant, and while Spike hastily packed their belongings Lefty sought out the proprietor and paid their bill, making an excuse for their hasty departure that sounded fairly probable. Then he went over to the filling-station to get the car he had bought, and here he got a shock. A tall, well-dressed man was talking to the clerk in charge, and as Mr Guinan approached he turned and they met almost face to face.

  “Well, if it isn’t Lefty,” drawled Mr Spearman, with just the right amount of surprise in his voice. “What are you doing in Hollywood, Lefty? Going to be a film star?”

  Chapter 9

  LEFTY GUINAN DOES A LITTLE THINKING

  Lefty Guinan eyed the good-looking Mr, Spearman suspiciously.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “Having a holiday.” said Mr Spearman, waving his hand. “Just living a life of leisure!”

  “At whose expense?” grated Lefty, who had no illusions concerning the man he was speaking to. “Who’s the sucker?”

  Mr Spearman looked pained.

  “Don’t be offensive, Lefty,” he chided gently. “There’s no sucker — what a vulgar word that is — I’ve gone into business.”

  Guinan smiled unpleasantly.

  “Who’s business?” he asked. “And how did you get in? With a jemmy?”

  ‘Captain Chase’ looked round cautiously. The filling-station clerk had moved away and was attending to another customer well out of
earshot.

  “You ask too many questions,” he replied. “You’re full of questions, Lefty, but if you must know I’m in the film business.”

  “I see.” Mr Guinan’s unpleasant smile changed to a sneer. “In the film business, eh? What are you — cameraman, director, or star?”

  “I think you might describe me as an impresario,” said Tommy Spearman guardedly. “You don’t know what that means, but it’s a very good description.”

  “Suppose you quit telling fairy tales and come down to facts,” growled Lefty Guinan. “First you say you’re havin’ a holiday, then you tell me you’ve gone into business. What are you really doing?”

  “Is there any real reason why I should tell you that?” said the other with a beaming smile. “Is it anything to do with you?”

  “I guess I’m naturally interested in an old friend,” said Lefty, and Mr Spearman shook his head.

  “I’m no friend of yours, Lefty,” he said. “An acquaintance, perhaps, but not a friend.”

  He laughed, and Guinan wondered what was amusing him.

  “We met once or twice in Chicago, but we never became what you might call bosom pals. By the way, how’s Spike? Still chewing himself to death?”

  “He’s O.K., so far as I know,” said Lefty Guinan hastily. “I haven’t seen him for weeks — ”

  “Dear me, is that so?” Mr Spearman’s eyes went up in amazement. “What a long time it must have taken you to walk across from Macks.”

  “What do you mean?” demanded Lefty.

  “I saw you and Spike go into Macks an hour ago,” said Mr Spearman gently. “What are you boys doing in Hollywood — having a good time?”

  Lefty Guinan was silent. He had hoped that Tommy Spearman would be ignorant of the fact that Spike Munro was with him, for it was a well-known fact that when they were together there was business afoot.

  “They tell me,” Mr Spearman went on, looking at him quizzically, “that you’re in the film trade, too.”