“We had suicides here before,” put in Raymond Coates, the real-estate man.
“The rate is three to one, now,” responded Yates. “I had an idea people came to Seaview City to have a good time — not to jump off the ends of piers and out of hotel windows.”
GRAHAM HURLEY avoided the chief’s gaze. The others looked serious. It was a known fact that four persons had plunged from the upper stories of the Hotel Pavilion within the past twelve days.
“To what do you attribute these deaths?” asked Cruikshank.
“Dope — liquor — gambling — ” Yates detailed his statements “- and other things, perhaps, that we haven’t located. I’m telling you, gentlemen, matters are in a bad way here. I’m up against crime that’s so big it has me guessing!”
“Dope,” remarked Cruikshank. “You have covered that, Yates. Continue your present action. It will probably bring results. What about liquor?”
“That’s the one bright spot,” responded Yates. “It’s set me to thinking. We always have a lot of bootleggers, and we know how to handle them. There’s been less booze than before. That’s why I figure some big shots are playing the other games, and leaving liquor to the small fry.”
“Gambling?”
“Heavy. The biggest gambler in the country is located right here in Seaview City. Big Tom Bagshawe — the fellow that runs the Club Catalina.”
“The Club Catalina is being run respectably,” objected Raymond Coates. “I and other members of the Public Safety Committee have gone there frequently. It is a bright spot in Seaview City — an excellent attraction on the board walk. I feel that it should not be molested.”