Tiger By The Tail

'Who did it to you?' he said.

Watson automatically opened his notebook and waited expectantly.

'I'm not talking, copper,' Louie said. 'Leave me alone.'

Adams took out a box of matches, struck one and held the flame to Louie's hand while Watson watched, goggle-eyed,

Louie snatched his hand away, his lips coming off his teeth.

'Next time I'll hold your wrist,' Adams said quietly. 'Who did it?'

The thin, ruthless face that hung over him scared Louie.

'Tux and Whitey,' he mumbled. 'Leave me alone, can't you?'

'Why did they do it?'

'I don't remember,' Louie said, but went on hurriedly as Adams struck another match. 'Okay, okay, I'll tell you.'

He gave Adams a watered-down account of his attempt to blackmail Gilda. It took some minutes, but Watson got it down after Adams had made Louie go over it again.

'Did you give Johnny Fay Carson's address?' Adams demanded.

'I told him where he could find her.'

'Where was that?'

'I told him she went to the Blue Rose most nights.'

'You didn't give him her address?'

'I don't know it.'

'What time did you tell him?'

'About eleven, I think it was.'

'So Tux works for O'Brien?' Adams said, aware he had made an important discovery.

'Yeah. O'Brien has always been his boss.'

Adams looked at Watson.

'Got it all?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Louie, you're going to sign this.'

He read Louie's statement over to him, held the book while Louie scrawled his signature on each page, then he got Watson also to sign each page.

'I'll take it,' he said to Watson, and slipped the notebook into his pocket. 'Come on, you don't have to waste any more time with this punk.'

Outside in the passage, he went on, 'Keep your mouth shut about this statement, Watson. There's a political angle to it that could be tricky. Understand?'

'Yes, sir,' Watson said blankly. He didn't understand, but he had long ago learned it wasn't safe to ask Adams questions.

'Okay. Come with me. I have a job for you.'

Bewildered, Watson followed Adams down the steps and across the sidewalk to his car.

III

It took Ken forty minutes to reach the waterfront. He was afraid to get on a bus or take a taxi. Adams had said every cop in town was looking for him by now, and he wasn't taking any chances of being recognized.

He kept to the back streets, walking close to the buildings and shops where the shadows were darkest.

From time to time he spotted ahead of him a patrolling cop, and he hastily turned down a side street to avoid passing him.

When eventually he arrived at the waterfront, the rain that had been falling began to ease off.

It was dim, damp and smelly by the water. On the street side was a row of cafes, popcorn stalls, shops selling fishing tackle and nets, a dingy hotel and an amusement arcade.

Ken stood on the edge of the wharf and looked across the broad stretch of oily water to the distant estuary. It was too dark to see if any boats were anchored out there, but Darcy had said that was where Willor Point was, and Ken had no reason not to believe him.

He would have to find a boat to take him out there. He had little money on him and he might need every nickel before he was through. He wouldn't be able to afford to rent a boat, he would have to borrow one.

But before he tried to find a boat, he had to know exactly where Willow Point was anchored.

He looked over at the lighted amusement arcade, hesitated, than walked slowly across the wet street and glanced in.

There were only a few youths playing the pin-table machines. A girl in a grubby white overall leaned against one of the machines while she cleaned her long painted finger-nails with a chip of wood. She was white-faced and