teams himself. 'And you said two reasons…'
Ness looked at Moeller and said, 'Care to explain. Sergeant?'
Moeller, who was sitting next to Curry, offered a twitch of an apologetic smile and said, 'I had a call this afternoon, from somebody in Hollis's camp… one of these Future Outlook League members. Seems there's a men- only party tonight at League Hall. Six of our suspects are gonna be there.'
'What's League Hall?' Curry asked.
'State Democratic League,' Johnson put in. 'The Negro Democrats' HQ. Eighteenth Ward Junior Democratic Club is puttin' on this smoker tonight… there will major policy guys on hand.'
'This sounds political,' Curry said. 'Hollis is a Republican-maybe he just wants to embarrass the opposition.'
'That may be the motivation behind the tip,' Ness said, 'but we won't play it for politics.' He lifted a forefinger. 'No arrests other than the policy guys. Understood? I don't want any reporters tagging along with you.'
'Press been tipped?' Garner asked.
'Not yet,' Ness said. 'But on my way out, I'm going to see who's in the press room-if anybody's on the job, I'll tell 'em to head over to Central Station and wait for a story to fall in their laps.'
Now, at exactly ten after midnight. Ness spoke into the hand mike on the coiled rubber cord and said, 'Go.'
He stepped out of the sedan. It was cool enough for a topcoat, but he hadn't worn one; his suitcoat was unbuttoned and his revolver was in its shoulder holster. He and officer Claude Lewis, a Negro patrolman who was in plainclothes tonight, walked the half-block to where the doorman stood, while one of the uniformed officers waited by the car and another of the uniformed officers went around to cover the rear of the building.
The doorman was a big pink man about forty who in his elaborate uniform with epaulets looked like a chorus member in a Victor Herbert operetta. It was a role he took seriously, however, because he held out his hand in a pompous stop gesture.
'This is a private building,' he said, chin up, eyes down.
'This is public business,' Ness said, pleasantly, and with a thumb lifted his lapel to reveal the gold safety director's shield.
The doorman looked down his nose at the badge and Ness grunted and brushed the big man aside, then pushed the glass door open and went in; behind him, Patrolman Lewis was telling the doorman, 'Don't warn 'em upstairs, or you'll be an accessory.'
The offended but now docile doorman didn't reply, although it might have been a fair question to ask accessory to what.
The lobby was small, clean, and modem, with assorted mirrors and potted plants; Ness and the patrolman took the elevator up to the third floor, where in Suite 3C the Emperor ruled his roost.
Ness knocked on the bright red door. Three hard, rifle-shot knocks.
There was no response.
He knocked again. Three more hard rifle shots.
'Guess I'll have to kick it in,' Ness said, matter-of-fact but purposely loud.
A muffled female voice from behind the door called out: ''Willie ain't here!'
Ness spoke to the door. 'Are you Mrs. Rushing?'
There was a pause. 'I is gonna be.'
'Who am I speaking to?'
'Jewel LaVerne. We engaged.'
'Well, that's very romantic, Miss LaVerne. Open the door, please. We have a warrant.'
'Let me see it.'
'Open the door, Miss LaVerne, and I'll show it to you.'
She reluctantly eased open the door, halfway, leaning against the doorjamb with studied insolence that failed to mask her fear; a yellow-complexioned girl of perhaps twenty, she had a round face with sultry, long-lashed eyes and a full mouth and a lack of make-up made her no less sullenly pretty. She was wearing a man's silk pajamas, which she filled out interestingly, sleeves and pant legs rolled up to accommodate her shapely five-five frame. She smelled of lilac perfume and sleep.
Ness dug the folded warrant out of his suitcoat pocket and showed it to her. She looked at it blankly; his guess was she couldn't read.
She looked at him, batting her lashes in slow motion and gazing at him like a bored cat; but there was tension in the eyes nonetheless.
'Willie ain't here, I tole you. He's outa town.'
'Where, out of town?'
'Two hundred miles away.'
'Please stand aside, Miss LaVerne.'
The sullen face squeezed into a childish pout and she stepped back and slammed the door in Ness's face, damn near breaking his nose.
He stood back, feeling more stupid than angry, rubbed his sore nose, and sighed.
Patrolman Lewis asked, 'You want me to bust it down?'
'No thanks,' Ness said, with a faint smile. 'This is a specialty of mine.'
He kicked the red door three times, with the flat of his foot, emphasis on the heel, enjoying the feel of the impact as it climbed the muscles of his leg, shaking his whole body, rattling his teeth. The door sprang open on the fourth kick and Ness knifed through the apartment, pushing the sweet-smelling woman aside. The apartment was ornately furnished, the carpets thick-napped Orientals; the Emperor had himself a palace, all right.
'Stay out here,' Ness ordered Lewis. 'Keep an eye on her, and the door!'
Ness quickly found the bedroom, a room so garish it startled him, from the fancy brocade wallpaper, blood- red, to the ornate white furniture and huge polished brass bed with red silk sheets and overhead mirror. The smell of the woman's lilac perfume was in the room.
Willie was, too.
The big middle-aged man was climbing out the window-while his girl had been stalling the cops, fastidious Willie had taken time to get dressed, in a powder-blue shantung-silk suit and pale yellow crepe linen-silk shirt with a dark blue silk-knit tie. He was weighted down with gold jewelry-rings and cufflinks and diamond stickpin-and in his left hand was an alligator traveling bag.
'All dressed up and nowhere to go, Willie,' Ness said, standing with his hands on hips, grinning. 'Except jail, of course.'
Willie stepped back inside; he let the alligator bag drop to the floor and put his jewelry-heavy hands up and his smile was as wide and white as a picket fence.
'Mister Ness,' he said. 'I was jus' about to leave town on business.'
'Were you,' Ness said, approaching Willie cautiously. 'Do I have to cuff you, Willie, or will you come along quietly?'
'What the charge?'
'We're just going to hold you for questioning. No big deal.'
'Fine with me, boss,' Willie said, and he shoved Ness with two big hard hands, knocking him back against the foot of the brass bed. Willie slipped out the window, with a deep laugh, and Ness picked himself up and smiled tightly and went after him, catching him on the fire-escape landing.
Willie turned and swung a ham-size fist, but Ness ducked it, tackling Willie; the two men slammed into the metal railing and began wrestling, and soon the Emperor, a big bear of a man, was on top, the cross-hatching of the metal grill-work digging into Ness's back. The cool night was damn near day, with the full moon above, and Ness could see clearly the vicious expression over him as the Emperor drew back a massive fist and was about to let fly, when Ness grabbed the gun out from under his shoulder and pointed it straight up into the big man's face.
The Emperor's two white wide eyes looked down into the smaller black infinite one of the. 38 and he froze, his drawn-back arm and fist caught in midair, as if stiffened there.
'Think about it, Willie,' Ness said. 'You can be dead, or we can go back inside and pretend this never happened.'
