The cop rested his foot on the running-board. The situation seemed to him to have possibilities.
‘Been drinking?’ he asked hopeful y.
‘Look, I’m busy,’ Burns said. ‘Go away and catch a burglar. Do anything, but don’t bother me.’
‘What’s this about the end of the world?’ the cop asked. ‘My tea leaves didn’t say nothing about it.’
‘Maybe you use the wrong make of tea. Why don’t you run away and make yourself some more? If you don’t want to drink the stuff, and if you’ve made enough of it, you can always drown yourself in it.’
The cop considered this, cocking his head on one side and squinting at Burns.
‘This could be a pinch, fel a,’ he said amiably. ‘I haven’t made a pinch for a week, and it’s time I did.
Suppose you and me take a ride down to headquarters.’
Burns shook his head.
‘I’ll play cops and robbers with you some other night,’ he said. ‘I’ve got work to do right now. Be a nice guy and fade away. If you’re al that hard up, why don’t you go pinch yourself a tart?’
‘You’l do,’ the cop said, his voice suddenly aggressive. ‘The Sarge hates funny men. He’l put you in cell 6, the one that leaks and has beetles. Start rolling, brother, you and me are going for a ride.’
With an air of bored weariness, Burns produced a card and pushed it under the cop’s nose.
‘Take a look at that, ambitious, if you can read. My old man and Lieutenant Olin are like that.’ He held up two fat fingers, pressed tightly together. ‘Interfere with me and you’l lose your badge so fast you won’t know it’s gone til you come to clean it – if you ever do clean it.’
The cop read the card, then spat in the gutter.
‘A shamus,’ he said bit erly. ‘I might have known it. Okay, forget it. That Purvis creep’s always making trouble for us workers.’
‘He makes trouble for me, too,’ Burns sighed. ‘I haven’t had a good night’s rest since last week, and then that was an accident.’
‘It beats me how you punks who peep through other people’s keyholes can sleep at al ,’ the cop said virtuously. ‘If I had your job my conscience wouldn’t let me sleep.’
Burns saw the light in Baird’s room had gone out.
‘Pipe down,’ he said tersely. ‘The pigeon I’m watching’s going to roost.’
The cop looked up at the darkened window.
‘That guy Baird? You interested in him?’
‘What do you know about him?’
‘I’ve got my orders. Never mind what I know about him.’
‘Aw, forget it. If there’s a thing I hate more than a stye in the eye, it’s a mysterious cop.’
The front door to Baird’s apartment house opened, and Baird came quickly down the steps.
‘Jeepers!’ Burns mut ered. ‘The punk’s going for a walk.’
‘Looks like he’s going on the lam,’ the cop said.
Baird was carrying a grip. He glanced at the cop and the parked car and went quickly down the street, away from them.
Burns scrambled out of the car.
‘Listen, brother, this is important. One of my buddies is due along any moment to relieve me. Will you tell him Baird’s left with a grip, and I’m going after him?’
‘I don’t mind,’ the cop said. ‘Not if you make it worth my while.’
‘And they say the police aren’t corrupt in this town,’ Burns said bitterly. He produced a five-dollar bill. ‘Stick around until he turns up. You can’t miss him. He walks pigeon-toed and wears a hand-painted tie.’
‘I’ll tell him,’ the cop said, pocketing the bil . ‘Nice to have known you.’
Burns snorted and set out after the fast-disappearing figure in the distance.
He had some difficulty in shortening the distance between Baird and himself. Baird swung along at a fast clip, and once or twice Burns had to break into a run or he’d have lost him.
Baird’s quick, suspicious ears heard the pat er of feet behind him, but he didn’t look around. He kept on, not sure yet if he was being tailed. Was it the police? he wondered. He turned down a side street, swearing softly under his breath. He had cut it fine. The train was due out at two, and he had yet to reach the depot and get his ticket. But he had to be sure no one was following him.
When he reached a dark patch of the road, he glanced back. A short, fat man was walking rapidly after him, keeping in the shadows. He didn’t look like a cop, and he puzzled Baird.
Baird kept on until he reached an alley that cut through to the railroad depot. He had ten minutes before the train left. Once in the darkness of the alley, he stopped and set down his grip and waited.
But Burns was too experienced to walk into that kind of trap. As soon as he could no longer hear Baird’s footfal s, he guessed Baird had spot ed him and was waiting for him in the al ey.
He walked slowly past the mouth of the alley, so Baird could see him, and kept on down the street until he was out of ear-shot, then he doubled back on tiptoe until he reached the mouth of the alley again.
