leprechaun.” A new look came into his eyes, far away, and almost dreamy. “So that’s it,” he said very softly. “The little men.”
Jake stared indignantly at them both. “I suppose in another minute you’ll try to tell me a band of elves came in and murdered my star act. First it’s an optical illusion, and now it’s done with magic.”
“It was done with something almost as unusual,” Malone said, in the same thoughtful voice. “What the devil kind of a rope is that? It looks like a bunch of silk stockings.”
Jake examined it. “That’s exactly what it is. Long silk stockings, twisted together.” He reached toward the hook.
“Don’t!” Helene said sharply. “Don’t touch it!” For just a moment she closed her eyes. “In another minute I’ll have the first fit of hysterics I ever had in my life.”
“I hope to Heaven you have it quietly then,” Malone said, “because it sure would scare hell out of the cash customers out front.”
Jake started; stared at the lawyer. “Malone, what are we going to do?”
“In these cases,” Malone said, “it’s customary to call a cop.”
“And have the Casino closed up tight as a drum for days?” Jake said. “It’s bad enough as it is, but if that happens, right now—” His voice trailed off.
“Yes,” Malone said, looking at him gravely. The look of quiet desperation in Jake’s eyes had to do with the remodeling of the Casino, with the newspaper ads and the twenty-four sheet billboards, with the crowd that had turned out for opening night, and with what it would mean to have other crowds turned away for even two or three nights. “Yes,” he repeated, “I know exactly what you mean. But what can you do? When you have a murder on your hands, you can’t just walk off and leave it.”
“No, but you can walk off and take it with you,” Jake said hoarsely. “Look, I’m a law-abiding citizen. But—”
“The words,” Malone told him, “are law-abiding, tax-paying citizen. A citizen,” he repeated, “who happens to own a night club with a murdered midget in one of its dressing rooms.”
“Who could have murdered him?” Helene asked. Her voice was calmer now.
“We’ll take that up in an advanced course,” Jake snapped. “Right now, we’ve got to get him out of here.”
For a moment there was silence. Helene crushed out her half-smoked cigarette in the saucer on the dressing table. Malone took out a cigar, started to unwrap it, then put it back in his pocket. Jake stared miserably at the opposite wall.
“I don’t mean to dispose of the body, or anything like that,” Jake said at last. “The fact that an entertainer from the Casino has been murdered mightn’t do any harm. Maybe the reverse. But I can’t afford to take the chance. Just so he isn’t found here, on the premises. If his body should be discovered up an alley somewhere—” His voice trailed off on a questioning note.
“But—” Malone paused, scowling. “I hate to bring up such a subject as justice at this point, but you’d be making it tough for the police if you moved the body from here. It might make the difference between their finding—or not finding—the murderer.”
Jake said, “Frankly, from all that I’ve heard about? Jay Otto, I don’t think I care whether his murderer gets caught or not. There’s more than one kind of justice in the world.”
“Besides,” Helene said slyly, “we’d know the truth.”
“If you’re hinting I find out who murdered him,” Malone said in an indignant voice, “you can go jump off a kite.”
Helene sniffed. “You mean ‘go fly a lake’, don’t you?”
He pretended he hadn’t heard her. “I don’t even want to know who murdered him,” he said in a suppressed roar. “The last time I mixed up in anything like that I was blown up by a bomb, nearly drowned in a river, trapped in a burning insane asylum, and all I got out of it was a lousy thousand bucks.” He paused and looked thoughtfully at the late Jay Otto. “I’ll probably be sorry for this, but have it your way. How shall we carry him out of here?”
Helene frowned. “The corridor at the top of the stairs leads to a rear entrance. But until closing time there’s always people coming and going in it.”
“Then we can’t take him out until closing time,” Malone said. “And we can’t just stay here keeping curious people out, or later somebody’ll be bound to remember we were missing for an unaccountably long time. Is there a lock on the door?”
Jake shook his head. “Only the bolt on the inside.”
“Well then,” Malone began. He stopped suddenly, staring at Helene. “What’s the matter with you?”
Her eyes flickered with excitement. “Look!”
Malone looked in the direction she pointed. In the corner of the room, leaning against the wall, was a bull fiddle case. Jake looked.
“Yes,” he said breathlessly, “yes, it would fit.”
Malone blinked. “What in the name of all that’s impossible did he want with a bull fiddle?” he demanded.
“It wasn’t his,” Jake explained. “One of Al Omega’s boys was fired yesterday at rehearsal. He owed the midget money, and had to leave this for security.” He crossed the room at a bound, reached for the fiddle case and suddenly paused. “Hell, that’s no good. There wouldn’t be room inside it for the midget and the fiddle too.”
“No,” Helene agreed, “but there’s a closet here where we can store the fiddle.”
Jake nodded slowly, and swung the big, unwieldy case down to the floor.
“This is all very fine,” Malone said, “and a lot of good clean fun, I’ve no doubt. But if you think you can walk through a crowded corridor carrying that”—he pointed to the case—“without being conspicuous—”
Jake sat back on his heels and looked up at Helene. “Malone’s right.” He frowned, and looked back at the case. “But this thing locks. The key is probably in the corpse’s pocket. We can lock the case and lean it back against the wall, exactly the way it was, and then when the joint is empty, come back and get it.”
“Now you’re talking.” Helene said enthusiastically.
Malone suppressed a sigh. He had an uncomfortable feeling that no good would come of this. But he knew better than to argue with Jake and Helene.
“Give me a hand,” Jake said. “We’ll take him down and then go through his pockets.” He reached up; toward the hook. “Hell, I can’t reach it.” He looked around for a chair. There was none.
“For the love of Mike,” Malone growled. “Didn’t the little guy ever sit down?”
“Not in here,” Jake said. “He had to stand up to the dressing table, and he couldn’t bear it for anybody else to be sitting down when he was standing up. Hence, no chairs. But wait a minute.” He went out into the
