But there are other members of the brigade who can, if and when they can finance another expedition. And that’s why we think he got into this thing. You can buy a lot of carbines and rifles and cartridges and machine guns for one hundred and sixty-eight thousand dollars.”
“Then you haven’t recovered the money?”
“Not the bulk of it.”
Daly got up from the desk and walked to the window and back. “I don’t know what to think.”
Captain Franks said, “Look, Tom, be reasonable. You’ve made a name for yourself as a sucker for the underdog. That’s commendable. But we have Laredo dead to rights. Look at it this way. Week after week his kiddy rides played shopping center parking lots for peanuts while he watched armored trucks pick up and deliver hundreds of thousands of dollars. The guy was in hock up to his eyes. He also wanted money for the cause so bad he could taste it. So he set up this thing with four or five guys who were in the invasion with him and yesterday morning they pulled the plug. Maybe they didn’t intend to kill anyone. They probably hoped they wouldn’t have to. All they intended to do was to create a diversion to get the inside guard out of the truck. But when, according to plan, Mrs. Laredo gave young Kelly the knockout drops, she made the dosage too strong and instead of just knocking him out, it killed him. Then they panicked. Oh, they got the money all right — how we don’t know yet, but they did. We do know that bit of having one of the clowns throw money to the crowd was merely part of the diversion. So far we’ve recovered less than ten thousand dollars. But we do have a hundred witnesses who are willing to testify in court that they saw Laredo, or a clown dressed in a costume identical with his, fire the three shots that killed the old roustabout and young Mrs. Wilson.”
“Proving what?” DuBoise asked.
Captain Franks told him. “If we can tie Laredo into this, murder in the commission of an armed robbery, which is murder in the first degree.”
Daly protested, “But as I understand it, the old man worked for Laredo. Why would he want him killed?”
“He probably didn’t,” Carter said. “It probably never entered his mind. But when the old man tried to stop the clown with the gun, the clown lost his head and shot him. And if the Laredos were in on the job, which we are certain they were, that makes them equally guilty, even if they didn’t pull the trigger of the gun.”
Daly said rather hotly, “I know the law. But tell me this. If they were in on the job, after the truck was robbed why didn’t Mickey keep on running instead of doubling back to the carousel?”
Carter pointed out. “Don’t you see? If he’d run, that would have been prima facie evidence of guilt. All he could do was stay and brazen it out.”
“But isn’t it possible they’re being framed?”
Carter spread his hands. “By whom, Mr. Daly? The two mysterious goons who so fortuitously appeared out of nowhere to work you over? One, or both, of the surviving guards? Both of them with spotless records, and one of them the dead guard’s brother?”
Daly tried another tack. “All right. What about someone at the armored truck company? According to the newspaper report the truck was carrying one hundred and seventy-eight thousand dollars. How do we know there was that much money on the truck when it reached the shopping plaza?”
“I can answer that,” Captain Franks said. He smiled at the young woman sitting in the straight back chair on the far side of his desk. “Miss Lindler, meet Mr. Daly and Mr. DuBoise.”
Daly couldn’t remember when he’d met a less attractive girl. Her nondescript mouse-brown hair was cut much too short for the almost Slavic planes of her face, her chest was as flat as a boy’s and the only makeup she was wearing was lipstick. Her horn-rimmed glasses didn’t do anything for her eyes. The only thing nice about her were her legs. She saw Daly looking at
“Then you haven’t recovered the money?”
“Not the bulk of it.”
Daly got up from the desk and walked to the window and back. “I don’t know what to think.”
Captain Franks said, “Look, Tom, be reasonable. You’ve made a name for yourself as a sucker for the underdog. That’s commendable. But we have Laredo dead to rights. Look at it this way. Week after week his kiddy rides played shopping center parking lots for peanuts while he watched armored trucks pick up and deliver hundreds of thousands of dollars. The guy was in hock up to his eyes. He also wanted money for the cause so bad he could taste it. So he set up this thing with four or five guys who were in the invasion with him and yesterday morning they pulled the plug. Maybe they didn’t intend to kill anyone. They probably hoped they wouldn’t have to. All they intended to do was to create a diversion to get the inside guard out of the truck. But when, according to plan, Mrs. Laredo gave young Kelly the knockout drops, she made the dosage too strong and instead of just knocking him out, it killed him. Then they panicked. Oh, they got the money all right — how we don’t know yet, but they did. We do know that bit of having one of the clowns throw money to the crowd was merely part of the diversion. So far we’ve recovered less than ten thousand dollars. But we do have a hundred witnesses who are willing to testify in court that they saw Laredo, or a clown dressed in a costume identical with his, fire the three shots that killed the old roustabout and young Mrs. Wilson.”
“Proving what?” DuBoise asked.
Captain Franks told him. “If we can tie Laredo into this, murder in the commission of an armed robbery, which is murder in the first degree.”
Daly protested, “But as I understand it, the old man worked for Laredo. Why would he want him killed?”
“He probably didn’t,” Carter said. “It probably never entered his mind. But when the old man tried to stop the clown with the gun, the clown lost his head and shot him. And if the Laredos were in on the job, which we are certain they were, that makes them equally guilty, even if they didn’t pull the trigger of the gun.”
Daly said rather hotly, “I know the law. But tell me this. If they were in on the job, after the truck was robbed why didn’t Mickey keep on running instead of doubling back to the carousel?”
Carter pointed out. “Don’t you see? If he’d run, that would have been prima facie evidence of guilt. All he could do was stay and brazen it out.”
“But isn’t it possible they’re being framed?”
Carter spread his hands. “By whom, Mr. Daly? The two mysterious goons who so fortuitously appeared out of nowhere to work you over? One, or both, of the surviving guards? Both of them with spotless records, and one of them the dead guard’s brother?”
Daly tried another tack. “All right. What about someone at the armored truck company? According to the newspaper report the truck was carrying one hundred and seventy-eight thousand dollars. How do we know there was that much money on the truck when it reached the shopping plaza?”
“I can answer that,” Captain Franks said. He smiled at the young woman sitting in the straight back chair on the far side of his desk. “Miss Lindler, meet Mr. Daly and Mr. DuBoise.”
Daly couldn’t remember when he’d met a less attractive girl. Her nondescript mouse-brown hair was cut much too short for the almost Slavic planes of her face, her chest was as flat as a boy’s and the only makeup she was wearing was lipstick. Her horn-rimmed glasses didn’t do anything for her eyes. The only thing nice about her were her legs. She saw Daly looking at
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