Milo March #21 E-Book

M.E. Chaber

• Herausgeber: Steeger Books
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Milo March heads for the historic mining boomtowns of Nevada, but he’s planning to dig at people, not rocks. The case involves three men who bought an old gold mine outside Reno. Though it had been abandoned for a century, the mine has miraculously started producing again. Armed with a glowing assay report, the owners persuaded the insurance company to issue a large policy against the mine’s running out of gold before they have taken two million dollars in gold from it.
You guessed it—a few months later the owners claim the mine has run dry, and they want their payout. The insurance company screams at once for its top investigator, Milo March.
Milo first has to solve a riddle: How do you get gold out of a mine that has no gold in it? The easy explanation is the old con job known as salting, but that only involves a sprinkling of gold around a mine to deceive buyers. This mine had a helluva lot more gold than that. So the answer to the riddle must be that you bring gold into the mine, then take it out again.
Now this raises another question: Where did they get a ton of gold bricks to put into the mine? One of the owners of the mine belongs to a crime family that Milo has tangled with before. The Syndicate must be using the mine as a front for something else. Milo can’t imagine its being a front for anything except gold.
That sounds silly. But the case is anything but silly, turning deadly as Milo gradually unravels its complexities. Though it’s a case for the FBI, Milo wraps it up in his own way, determined to set things right for an innocent victim whose friendship has come to mean a lot to him.

Leseprobe

Born to Be Hanged

by

Kendell Foster Crossen

Writing as M.E. Chaber

Steeger Books / 2021

Copyright Information

Published by Steeger Books

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©2001, 2021 by Kendra Crossen Burroughs

The unabridged novel has been edited by Kendra Crossen Burroughs.

First Paperback Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the publisher. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.

Publishing History

Hardcover

New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston (A Rinehart Suspense Novel), August 1973. Dust jacket by Jay Smith.

Toronto: Holt, Rinehart & Winston of Canada, August 1973.

Roslyn, NY: Detective Book Club #379, Walter J. Black, Inc., November 1973. (With Reckless Lady by Rae Foley and Conquest before Autumn by Matthew Eden.)

Dedication

For Marcelia

She walks in the early morning like a rose

Lifting its petals to greet the dawn,

Each petal the warm ruby of a midnight kiss,

Lifting eagerly for the caress of the golden fingers

Reaching from the soft blue backdrop of the day.

Looking upward and beyond, before they meet,

She says good-bye to the last lingering star.

—Stefan Krosno

One

The rays of the sun reached through the office windows and covered the walls with yellow finger painting. But it was the only thing to enter the office. Every morning had been like that for a month. I was tired of it. I had finished reading the morning paper, including the reports of baseball spring training. I opened a desk drawer and took out a bottle of brandy. I poured a small drink and sipped it. I was thinking of going out, locking the door, and doing something exciting—like taking a walk in Central Park.

The phone rang. I picked up the receiver. “March’s Agency,” I said. That’s me. I’m Milo March. I’m also the agency.

“Milo, boy, how are you?” It was Martin Raymond. He’s a vice-president of Intercontinental Insurance, the company I do most of my work for. I was about to tell him that I wasn’t sure I was up to visiting a rarefied atmosphere so early in the morning, but then I remembered that he’s the one that hands out all of those jobs. Every time he calls me, I hear the counting of money. It always sounds like crisp lettuce.

“I haven’t checked with my doctor yet,” I said. “I’ve been sitting here counting the minutes and wondering if I would ever again hear the sound of a friendly voice—and then you called. I must be a … is it psychic or psycho? I can never remember.”

Martin Raymond was never sure how he was supposed to react, but he dutifully made a noise that sounded more like a whinny than a laugh. I had to at least give him credit for trying.

“Are you busy?” he asked.

“That’s a good question,” I said. “I was sitting here wondering whether I should go on being busy or take a nice walk in Central Park. They tell me that’s where the action is.”

This time he didn’t even try to laugh. That was a sign that he was about to get down to business. “I think we might have a small job for you,” he said. That meant that he was hoping I wouldn’t take too many days on it because I cost three hundred dollars for each day. Plus expenses.

“If it’s that small,” I said, “why don’t you turn it over to one of the office boys? Give him a fat expense account, and I’ll give him the name and address of a good bar. All he has to do is mention my name and he can get dry martinis for a dollar and a half a clip. That should result in an imaginative report. A little editing and you could probably submit it for a Pulitzer Prize. In fiction.”

“We tried that once with one of your expense accounts, but they said that it was too amateurish.” He sounded pleased with what he considered a bit of humor.

“Please,” I said with a pained sound. “I’m supposed to make the jokes around here. Besides, if you think my expense accounts are amateurish, I don’t want to hear any more complaints about them being padded.”

That was supposed to be a mortal blow, but he ignored it. “If you’re not too busy,” he said, returning to the friendly-but-executive level, “why not drop in and we’ll run over the case?”

“I forgot to bring my parachute,” I said, “but I’ll stroll up and see you. Maybe we can run it up a flagpole and see whose anthem is played first.” On that cheerful note, I hung up.

I lit a cigarette and finished my small drink. Then I shrugged into my jacket and left. It was a short walk up Madison Avenue to the concrete-and-glass building which stood as a monument to the enforced generosity of the policyholders of Intercontinental Insurance.

The executive offices were high up in the building. It was from there that I was dispatched to various parts of the world to toil in the Intercontinental vineyards. I am their chief investigator, which means that if you try to cut corners in order to collect the face value of your insurance policy, I am supposed to uncover the corners. At the risk of life and limb. For three hundred dollars a day and expenses. This also explains why they take a negative attitude toward selling me a large amount of insurance.

I stepped out of the elevator into the reception room. I stopped to admire the girl who was busy at the desk. She was something to look at. She had long black hair, large black eyes, a smooth Latin complexion, and full pouting lips. The rest of her was just as lovely. Her accessories were ample enough to stop the traffic on any street. She walked like a miracle on the way to happening.

Her name was Carmen O’Brien, the result of an Irish father and a Latin American mother. I had taken her to dinner several times, and she was always fun to be with. I had only one complaint. She had a roommate who was always there reading a book whenever I took Carmen home. It was enough to make a man lose his faith in American apple pie.

I walked over to the desk. She looked up just as I reached it. Her smile was like the first glimpse of the morning sun.

“Hello, Milo,” she said.

“Hello,” I answered. “I know I’ve seen you somewhere before. Now, let me think.”

She laughed. “Do you want to see Mr. Raymond?”

“I don’t want to. I am forced to by circumstances beyond my control. Namely, my bank account.”

She picked up her phone and dialed three numbers. She said my name, waited, and hung up. “Go right in,” she said. That meant Martin Raymond had already told his secretary to have me come in as soon as I arrived.

I went through a door. I started walking down the long strip of thick carpeting that led to his office. I always thought of it as the Last Mile.

His secretary looked up as I reached her desk. “Well, if it isn’t the boy wonder himself. He said to send you right in. His voice sounded like an alert signal, so I went down and told the cashier to lock her cage until further notice.”

“If I’m questioned about it,” I said, “I’ll say that I always spend half of my expense money on you.”

“I’ll bet you would. You’d better go on in. He’s being nervous today.”

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I don’t know. But I believe he’s been thinking all morning. I’ve even heard him pacing several times.”

“That is bad. I hope he hasn’t done too much thinking. He’s not built for it. He’s liable to be incoherent by the time I reach him. See you on the way out, honey.”

I walked past her and opened the door. He was sitting at his desk, his fingers drumming on the blotter. He looked up as I closed the door behind me.

“There you are,” he said, sounding like a man who had just discovered that the sun rises every morning. He waved across the room. “Help yourself to a drink. You know where the bar is.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” I murmured. I walked over to an antique cabinet. It probably had once been very valuable, but he’d had it changed so that it was now a complete bar. I poured myself a healthy drink of bourbon, dropped in a couple of ice cubes, and then crossed to a chair beside his desk.

“I take it,” I said, “that some vulgarian has dipped his unclean hand into the family till?”

“Two million dollars,” he said grimly.

“That’s grand larceny,” I said.

“Fraud,” he said. “Barefaced fraud. They’ll never get away with it. We’ll stop them in their tracks.”

“We?” I asked. “I think I just felt an angel tap me on my shoulder.”

He lifted his head and stared at me as if seeing me for the first time. “Milo, my boy, you’re just the man for the job.”

“That was a fast promotion from boy to man,” I said gently. “Are you going to tell me about the case, or do I have to guess?”

“What?” he asked. Then his expression changed as he got the message. “Yes. Of course.” He cleared his throat. “Did you ever hear of Reno, Nevada?”

“I seem to remember such a place,” I said dryly. “The Biggest Little City in the World. I think that’s what it’s called. What have you been doing, insuring a bunch of casino players?”

“This is no time for jokes,” he said seriously. “About six months ago we issued a policy for two million dollars on a gold mine not far from Reno.”

“Two million dollars on an old abandoned gold mine? You must have had gold dust in your eyes.”

“Not at all,” he said with dignity. “We had it completely checked out.”

“Of course,” I said. “Then it just happened to go dry within six months. Or maybe they had a hot, dry spell and all the pretty gold just melted and ran away. I’ve heard of Renoites who bragged about the local water, but I never heard of the water containing gold. They must have salted it.”

“Salted it? What does that mean?”

“Putting gold where there never was any gold before. I don’t know how it’s done in this modern age but in the old days it was done by loading a shotgun with gold and then firing several loads around in the area where the digging was going on.”

“Nothing like that could have happened in this case,” he said. “We had some sample ore assayed and the report stated that the gold content was very high. We also hired an expert to go into the mine and give us a report on it. He did and said that there was the beginning of a very rich vein where they had recently started digging.”

“Handling all of this from here by mail, I suppose?”

“Not at all. We had one of our men go out and get those things done, and also talk to various people in the vicinity. All of the reports were excellent. In fact, the investigator brought this back with him.” He indicated a large rock on his desk, serving as a paperweight.

“Pyrites of Iron?” I asked.

“What’s that?”

“It’s also known as Fool’s Gold. It’s about all you find if you go around peering under toadstools. Or in old abandoned gold mines. There is nothing to indicate that a mine was ever abandoned because there was too much gold in it.”

“You might be interested to learn,” he said coldly, “that our expert estimated that there was a minimum of between four and five million dollars’ worth of gold in that mine.”

“Interesting,” I said. “Did you ever read anything by Robert Service?”

“Who’d he work for?”

“For himself. Just like me. He was a poet.”

“Never read the stuff,” he said proudly. “What did he have to say that has anything to do with this?”

“He had quite a bit to say about gold. In fact, he said one thing that reminds me of the tone of voice you used when you announced how much gold there is in that mine. In a poem about gold and men, he wrote:

“The waves have a story to tell me …

Of men who sally in quest of gold

To sink in an ocean grave.”

“Milo, my boy,” he said seriously, “there are times when I worry about you. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“I think so. I think you mentioned something about two million dollars?”

“Yes, yes. It’s that case in Reno, Nevada. Two million dollars is the face value of the policy. They’re demanding full payment. We’re depending on you, Milo.”

“Don’t you always?” I lit a cigarette and took another sip of the bourbon. “You did mention that you issued an insurance policy for two million dollars. If the mine ran out of gold, you are to pay them two million dollars?”

“That’s right. You’re getting the picture, Milo.”

I leaned back and laughed. “That’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said, Martin. Why did you issue the policy?”

“Because there was gold there. Our assayer estimated that it would be well over four million dollars, depending on how long the vein runs.”

“You hired the assayer yourself?”

“Well, not personally,” he said evasively. “Bracken checked on him and gave me all the information. I told Bracken to hire him and have him bill us.”

I got up and poured myself another drink. “Did this assayer have a name?”

“Of course. It’s Manfred Smith. He’s been an assayer most of his life. Much of the new activity in both silver and gold in Nevada has resulted from his reports.”

“That’s nice. What does he charge for his good news?”

“He charges the same whether the news is good or bad. Five hundred dollars for the report.”

“Not bad,” I said dryly, “if he gets enough orders. Who’s this Bracken you mentioned?”

“One of our staff investigators. He went to Reno and conducted the investigations.”

“Been with you long?”

“About ten years. A good man. He handles most of the investigation done before we issue a policy.”

“Is that why I have to bail you out so often when it looks as if you’re going to have to pay face value?”

He made an impatient gesture. Martin Raymond didn’t like to be questioned by the help. “We can’t expect to be right every time. Some of the crooks are pretty damn smart. You know that.”

“Yeah. What about this Bracken? Do you think he might be tempted to tell you what you wanted to hear? For a price, naturally.”

“Impossible. I told you he’s been with us for years. We trust him implicitly. Of course, he’s checked out every year.”

“Of course,” I said mildly. “By the way, Martin, old friend, do you also check me out every year?”

He gave me a thin-lipped smile which showed more of his character than his usual relaxed grin. “Of course. You must have known that it was done. You’ve been around.”

“I’ve been around long enough to smell things like that,” I said. “Now, who owns this little mine and is now presenting you with a little bill for two million pieces of green?”

“It’s owned by a corporation. Three owners. But I don’t have to tell you all this. I had my girl type out all of the essential information, and she’ll give it to you on the way out. With your expense money.”

“How much?”

“Two thousand dollars. That ought to last you long enough to clean this up. We have every confidence in you, Milo, my boy.” His good humor was returning.

“You’re all heart, Martin,” I murmured, “but you’re overlooking one thing. I haven’t yet said that I would take the job.”

“What?” he said. It was almost a shout, and he once more looked the part of a harassed executive. “Our agreement with you gives us first call on your services. Are you suggesting that you are going to raise your fee again?”

“No,” I said modestly. “I think that three hundred dollars a day and expenses is adequate—until there’s another rise in the cost of living. I was thinking more in terms of a bonus, based on the amount of money I save for you.”

“We’ll discuss that in the next board meeting,” he said gravely. “We’ll let you know in Reno. I want you to take a plane this afternoon so you’ll be there and ready to go early tomorrow morning.”

“I think we have a communication gap, Martin. I know, of course, it will have to be discussed with all the wheels, and I have a suggestion which should make it work out for everyone. It’ll give you time to talk it over before everyone scatters for the usual three-hour luncheon, and enough time to write me a letter telling me the answer, which you will send to me at my apartment by messenger. In the meantime, I’ll make a reservation on a plane leaving this afternoon. If the answer is yes, I’ll be aboard the plane; if not, I’ll have time to cancel the reservation.”

“Damnit, Milo, this is a barefaced holdup,” he said angrily.

“You’ve already been held up. You want me to save as much money for you as I can. Since it’s a tough situation, I think it’s only right that I should be rewarded with a percentage of what I save.”

He stood up and walked across his office to stare out the window. “I suppose you have a figure in mind?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “It just came to me. I believe you’ll find it fair. Let’s say one percent of what I save.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Milo?” he demanded. “One of these days you’ll go too far.”

“I’ll save my bonus,” I promised, “so I can afford the fare. Why don’t you noodle it with the boys in the back room?”

“I’ll tell them what you’re asking,” he said grimly, “and have my girl phone you the answer. Either way, you’d better be in Reno tomorrow morning.” He turned to face me so I could see how serious he was.

I stood up and smiled. “You’d better take care of yourself, Martin. I’d hate to learn that anything happened to you right after our friendly talk.” I turned and left the office, closing the door gently behind me.

His secretary looked up at me. “Well, that was quite a session you had with him. I have a couple of things here for you.” She held out two envelopes, filled with papers, shaking her head as I took them. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Pry him loose from so much money. Especially when you’re headed for Reno.

That’s a good place to get a divorce from your money.”

“Not me. I neither drink, chase women, nor gamble when I’m working for dear old Intercontinental. If you think this is bad, wait until you see what hits the fan when he comes out of that office.”

“I shudder to think. But if he is coming, you’d better struggle along, love. If he sees you standing here with that lewd grin on your face, he won’t know whether it’s because of the money you’re holding or me.”

“If only it were you … ,” I said, letting it trail off.

“Knock it off, buster. Run along and wave your ill-gotten money in the face of the first pretty wench you see.”

“That I shall do, but it will do me no good. There would be muttering and grumbling if I took her to Reno with me. I shall wait impatiently to hear from you.”

“Why?”

“Because I will. He’ll tell you so himself. I’ll see you around, honey.”

I walked back down the corridor and into the reception room. Carmen looked up and gave me a smile as I went over to her desk.

“How’d you make out?” she asked.

“Like a thief,” I said. “But I come bearing bad news.”

“They didn’t fire you.”

“They’re thinking it over,” I said. “But I had intended to stop and bully you into having dinner with me. Unfortunately, I’ll have to postpone it.”

“You asked Mr. Raymond’s secretary first and she said yes?”

“No. I have to get on a plane and go to Reno this afternoon. Want to come along?”

“I’d love to, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Damn,” I said. “I thought it was a good idea. It would give me a chance to walk into someplace with you and not find your roommate waiting there for us.”

She laughed. “Kitty’s a good girl.”

“I wasn’t doubting her morals a bit,” I said indignantly. “But I think she’s a little young to spend all of her life being a chaperone.”

“I’ll tell her you’re concerned about her.”

“You do that. Well, I’ll see you when I get back. If I get back.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“Well—it is a pretty dangerous assignment.”

She laughed again. “Don’t forget you have to catch a plane. I wouldn’t want you to lose your job because of me. If anything does happen to you, I’ll send flowers.”

I glared at her. “You’re all feeling, girl. What are you doing? Running for national office in the Women’s Lib movement?” I left, but she was still laughing when I entered the elevator.

I took a taxi down to my apartment on Perry Street in the Village. There was no mail in the box, not even bills. I went upstairs. I dropped the papers on the kitchen table and put the money in my pocket. Then I called United Airlines and got a reservation on the four o’clock flight. I glanced at my watch and decided I had enough time, so I went downstairs and walked to the Blue Mill.

I had a martini at the bar and talked to Alcino for a few minutes, then went to a table and ordered lunch. When I had finished, I went back to the apartment. I packed a suitcase, putting my gun and holster in a special compartment. I tossed the papers on top of the clothes. I could read them later.

I splashed some brandy in a glass and sat down on the couch. I drank it slowly, then glanced at my watch again. There was still time, so I stretched out on the couch and went to sleep.

The ringing of the doorbell awakened me. I struggled across the room and opened the door. It was a messenger boy. I tipped him and took the envelope. As soon as he was gone, I opened it. The letter said that I was to receive one percent of any moneys I saved Intercontinental on a settlement of the insurance policy which had been issued to the Natural Gold Mine Corporation of Reno, Nevada.

The phone rang. I scooped up the receiver and said hello.

“Hello,” she said. It was Raymond’s secretary. “Did you get your letter? Mr. Raymond wanted me to call and make sure you received it and will be on the plane this afternoon.”

“Yes on both counts. You did a beautiful job of typing.”

“I always try,” she said demurely. “You pulled off a pretty good con game yourself. You must have twisted somebody’s arm.”

“Not me. It was simple. They were so anxious to grab on to something that looked easy and it turned out it wasn’t. They think they will be way ahead of the game if I manage to save them a few thousand dollars, and one percent won’t mean much. I, on the other hand, think they have a tough problem but that I can save them the entire two million dollars. One percent of that is pretty good walking-around money and not to be sneezed at.”

“I hear you loud and clear,” she said. “When you know that you’re going to save the entire amount, let me know. I think I might take my vacation then.”

“Martin’s taking it that badly?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. All I know is that he had me call his club today and make a luncheon reservation—for one.”

“The manhattans will cheer him up,” I said. “I’ll see you around.”

“I’m sure you will. But it’s the cashier you’re going to drive to a nervous breakdown. Good luck.” She hung up.

I picked up the papers in my suitcase and opened them. I thought I’d do a little homework. But the phone rang again. I lifted the receiver.

“Hello,” I said.

“Mr. March?” a woman’s voice asked.

“Speaking.”

“There is an overseas call for you. Just a moment.” I waited, wondering who was calling me. The operator cut in again. “Your party is on the line, Mr. March,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said. I waited, listening to the strange noises coming over the wire. Then she said hello. There could be no mistake about that voice. It belonged to Hsu Mei―or, as she preferred, Mei Hsu, placing her given name first, in Western fashion. She lived in Hong Kong, and I had known her for a long time. I was more fond of her than I usually cared to admit.

“Hello, Mei,” I said. “Where are you?”

“Home. In Hong Kong. Are you glad I called?”

“Very much. Is everything all right?”

“Everything is wonderful—now that I hear your voice. I am coming to America. Do you remember that you invited me?”

“Of course I do. When will you be here?”

“I have a reservation on a plane leaving Hong Kong at eight o’clock tomorrow evening. It arrives in Los Angeles on Tuesday at four in the morning. Then I have only to fly from Los Angeles to New York, and you will meet me and I will be there, yes?”

“Not exactly, darling. Instead, when you get to Los Angeles, you will take a plane to Reno, Nevada. I will meet you there, yes.”

“Why Reno?”

“Because I’m leaving for Reno in a couple of hours. I have to do some work there. But while I’m working, you can go to the casinos and gamble and then we’ll go out and play every night. Okay?”

“How near is Reno to Los Angeles?”

“Very near. Since you arrive in Los Angeles at four in the morning, your biggest problem is what time you can get a plane out. As soon as you’re through customs, find out about a flight to Reno and call me at the Pony Express Hotel, and then I’ll meet you at the airport. We can have breakfast together.”

“That sounds wonderful, Milo. Where will I be staying in Reno?”

“With me—if you can stand it. When I check into the hotel, I will tell them that my wife will be arriving Tuesday morning. And that’s all there will be to it.”

“Sounds lovely. I’ve never been on a honeymoon before.”

“There’s all sorts of good things in America.”

She laughed. “I’ll see you Tuesday morning, darling. Good-bye for now.” There was a click as she hung up.

I sat for a minute, thinking about her. It was going to be nice to see her again.

I picked up the phone and called my answering service. I told them I would be out of town for an indefinite period and would call them as soon as I got back. I got undressed and took a shower. I put on a fresh suit and closed my suitcase.

Downstairs I hailed a cab and told the driver to take me to Kennedy Airport. I lit a cigarette and leaned back, thinking about Mei. I hadn’t seen her since I’d stopped off in Hong Kong on my way to South Africa.

The driver made good time to the terminal. I went in and found the United counter. I picked up my ticket and my seat number, and checked my suitcase for the flight.

There was still some time until the plane could be boarded, so I went into a bar and ordered a dry martini. When it came I sipped it and waited for an announcement that it was time to board the plane.

“Paging Mr. March,” a voice said from a loudspeaker. “Will Mr. Milo March please come to the United Airlines counter.” I finished my drink and strolled out of the bar. I walked up to the airlines counter. There was a man leaning on it. As I stepped up to the counter, a girl hurried toward me.

“May I help you, sir?” she asked.

“My name is Milo March. You just paged me.”

She glanced to one side, and I was aware that the man had moved down next to me.

“Is your name Milo March?” he asked.

“I just said it was. Did you have me paged?”

“Yes. I want to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you if you’ll just step across to the door over there. Then we can talk alone.”

“My mother always told me not to go into rooms with a strange man,” I said.

“Besides, you smell like fuzz.”

He reached into his coat and brought out a slim ID case and flipped it open. I looked at it. “You’re fuzz,” I said. “You’re Federal fuzz. The worst kind. Does Washington know you’re out harassing the citizens?”

“Through the door,” he said. The folder was back in his pocket, but his hand stayed near it.

I shrugged and walked ahead of him through the door.

Two

There was another man in the room. His gaze went to the man behind me, then flicked to me and stayed. There was also a long table and on it a suitcase that looked familiar. It was mine.

“This is March,” the man behind me said. “Watch him while I check him out.”

A second later, I felt the hands of the first man frisking me all the way down to my ankles. Then he stood up and moved around in front of me. “You’re Milo March,” he said flatly.

“That’s what I told you,” I said. “Do you have a name, or does everybody just call you baby?”

He didn’t like that. “Just stick to answering questions. Where were you headed?”

“Reno, Nevada.”

“Why?”

“Business trip.”

“Doing what?”

“That’s my business,” I said gently.

“We can make it our business.”

I shook my head. “You wouldn’t like it. It involves being accosted by strange fuzz who can’t wait until they can get their hands on you to pat you. Know what I mean, baby?”

“You’d better know what we mean,” he said grimly. He didn’t seem to like me. I wondered why.

“How can I, when you don’t tell me what this is all about? What do you want? Why am I here? What is that suitcase doing here?”

“You admit that it belongs to you?”

“No, I don’t,” I said. “It looks like mine, but I can’t be sure from here. If it is mine, I want to know why it’s here instead of being loaded on the plane.”

“Let’s look at it,” he said. The three of us walked over to it. “Well?”

“It’s mine. Now you answer my question.”

“As you must know, all luggage going into planes is checked these days. Our instruments indicate that there’s a piece of metal in there. A fairly large piece of metal. What is it?”

I laughed. “Why didn’t you ask right away? It’s a gun and some shells.”

“Why are you taking a gun aboard the plane to Reno?”

“Because it’s part of my business. I work as an investigator for a large insurance company, and I’m going to Reno to investigate a possible case of fraud against them. The gun is one of the tools of my trade.”

“Open the suitcase and show us.”

“Okay.” I reached to the suitcase and opened it. I lifted the clothes and put my hand down inside and opened the secret compartment. Then, showing my hands were empty, I stepped slowly back two paces. “Look for yourselves.”

The two men looked at each other for a second, then the first one stepped forward. He put his hand beside the clothes and carefully felt around. He pulled out the gun and looked at it. “Planning on using this?” he asked.

“If I have to.”

“Anybody ever tell you that it’s against the law?”

“A few have,” I said. “If you want to charge me with illegal possession of a gun, try it on for size. I carried the gun from my apartment here to Kennedy Airport, where I turned it over to a common carrier to transport it to Reno, Nevada, where I will once more carry it. I have a license to carry that gun here and also in Nevada. You boys have a file on me with all the information on various licenses I carry and the serial number of the gun.”

“I thought your name was familiar,” the second agent said. “You’re the guy who messed up our case when that congressman was killed in Cleveland.”