Read Online The Shell Scott Sampler by Richard S. Prather - Free Book Online Page A

again. But I didn’t dial.
    Al Spaniel, huh? Well, it made sense, if he’d pulled off a quarter-million score and knew I was looking for him—but how could he have known? Who could have tipped him? Madison? Hardly. Surely not Zeke. I’d done business with him a long time; his tips had usually been good ones and I’d paid him plenty.
    I would call the police, yes. But I’d have to take a chance that could wait for a while. There was something else that couldn’t wait.
    I started looking for Lupo.
    Lupo’s face rested on the table in our booth at the Happy Time; his breath rippled the spilled liquid shining on the tabletop and sopping into his left eyebrow. In a moment his eyelids fluttered. He sighed.
    When he finally got his head up and looked at me I thought he was going to faint again. But he didn’t. Not quite.
    â€œI’ll tell you how it was, Lupo,” I said sweetly. “Then you fill me in on the details. That all right with you, friend?”
    He swallowed. His lips looked chapped.
    I said, “You’ve never yet given me a tip that paid off. I figured it would take time, that’s all. What I didn’t figure was that when I asked you about a guy, instead of trying to help me you might be tipping the guy I asked about. Like tonight, huh, Lupo?”
    He finally said something. “That’s nuts.”
    I grinned. “A hood just tried to shoot me, and died trying. But he lived long enough to spill that Al Spaniel sent him to hit me. Guess what else that tells me, Lupo?”
    â€œI … couldn’t guess.”
    â€œOne of the men I talked to tonight, about the heist and my suspicions of Spaniel among others, must have got that word to Spaniel. Who could have told him, Lupo?”
    He shook his head.
    â€œMaybe I only talked to you, friend. Maybe you’re the only one who could have told him. You think of that?”
    He hadn’t. But he was thinking about it now. Suddenly he said, “All right, Scott. I’ll tell you about it. Just take it easy.”
    â€œWhat did you do, Lupo? Call all three of them? Spaniel and Bonicef and Luigi, to be sure you tipped the right one?”
    He opened his mouth, shut it. Then he said, “I was pretty sure it must have been Spaniel. I would have called the other two, sure, but there wasn’t any need to. I phoned Spaniel first thing, talked to him. The way he reacted, it had to be him.”
    â€œI’d kind of figured that out, Lupo. The hard way.”
    â€œScott, I swear it never entered my mind he might try to have you killed. I thought he’d probably blow town. Who’d think he’d send anybody to…” He let it trail off.
    â€œOK, where is he?”
    â€œI wouldn’t know —”
    â€œKnock it off. You knew where to find him when you wanted to tip him. So you know where to find him now.”
    He was silent for a few seconds, then shrugged. “That does make sense, doesn’t it? He was at the Westmoreland Hotel.”
    â€œThat’s where you phoned him?”
    â€œPhoned, then went there to see him. He was with one of those obscenely fat women he’s always got hanging around.”
    I grinned. At my request he described the woman in more detail, and by sort of listening between the lines she shaped up as a wow. Five-five or six, a lot of red hair, green eyes, and “obscenely” shapely.
    â€œThey’re at the Westmoreland now?” I asked him.
    Lupo hesitated and I said, “If you hold anything out, pal, anything at all —”
    â€œWell, it’s just … that’s where they were. But when I talked to Alston I got the impression he was going to leave for Laguna Beach.”
    â€œHow’d you get the impression?”
    â€œActually, that’s what he said. He told me.”
    â€œThinking, of course, I wouldn’t find out. Not in this life. Or maybe if something went wrong and his hired gun