Page 6 of The Lady Has a Past

“Impossible,” he finally blurted out. “How in hell did you find that one book among the hundreds in this room? Someone must have told you it was here. Who betrayed me? Was it my housekeeper? My wife? I can’t believe either of them knows anything about my business affairs. I’ve been so damned careful.”

“What you’ve been is damned careless.” Simon dropped the book into the open briefcase. “Your mistake was in murdering your business associate. You staged that fatal crash on Mulholland to get rid of Haywood because you wanted to control the whole business. But you left your prints all over that Bugatti of his.”

Lennox’s mouth fell open. “That’s impossible. There was a fire.”

“The kind of prints you left behind aren’t erased by fire.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t have time for this. It’s getting late and I’ve got a long drive ahead of me tomorrow.”

“You’re right. You don’t have much time left at all. I can guarantee that you won’t be driving anywhere tomorrow.” Lennox hesitated. “Tell me who you’re working for, damn it. Is it one of my investors?”

“My client is only concerned with the blackmail materials.” Simon patted the heavy briefcase. “I’ve got those, too. It’s the FBI that’s interested in the embezzlement and fraud side of your business. Ever since they took down Al Capone on tax evasion charges, the Bureau has had a lot of respect for financial records. The special agents are waiting in the garden, by the way. I’ll give them your very informative ledger on my way out.”

Lennox’s eyes narrowed. “Do you really think I’m going to fall for that story?”

“Why not? I used to work for one of the slickest con men in the business, and if there’s one thing I learned, it’s that the easiest person to con is another con artist.”

Lennox’s eyes tightened at the corners. “Tell me how you know that I sabotaged Haywood’s Bugatti.”

“Now, why would I give you that information if it’s the only thing that’s keeping me alive?”

“Because I will put a bullet in your guts, Mr. Cage. I’m told it takes a long time to die that way and that the process is exceedingly painful. Sooner or later you will beg me to end the agony.”

“I should apologize for implying you aren’t very intelligent. Hiding your files in your library was a sound idea. After all, who would ever think to search for them here?” Simon gestured to indicate the large collection of books. “Any serious thief would look for a hidden safe before he thought about these shelves. After all, it would take days to go through every volume in this room.”

“And yet you found my records after a single walk-through of my collection?”

Simon smiled. “While you accompanied me. It’s the prints you left behind, you see.”

“That makes no sense. Every book in here has my prints on it. I handled all of them at one time or another.”

“I’m talking about a different kind of prints—like those on the Bugatti,” Simon said. “The kind you leave when you get very excited. Nervous. Enraged. Prints like that are very, very hot.”

“Stop lying. Someone talked.Who was it?”

“I doubt if you would believe me if I tried to explain. People rarely do. Now, I would appreciate it if you would get out of the way. It’s late, and as I said, I’ve got a long drive ahead of me in the morning. I’d like to get some sleep.”

“Don’t move.”

Simon raised the large briefcase and cradled it in front of his chest. At the same time he leaned one shoulder against a big bookcase, putting his body weight into it.

The heavy bookcase rocked a little. Simon leaned harder.

“Stop,” Lennox shouted. “What are you doing?”

He took a hasty step back, trying to get out of the aisle. He raised his pistol and fired.

Simon was braced for the impact; nevertheless, the bullet struck the steel-lined briefcase with enough force to spin him backward and sideways. He came up hard against the rocking bookshelf. His glasses flew off.

The long bookshelf shuddered and slowly toppled into the neighboring aisle. Rows of heavy volumes were jarred loose and tumbled to the floor.

Startled, confused, and distracted, Lennox hastily retreated a couple of steps.

“You should be dead,” he shouted.

“Not yet.”

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