friend of George ever since the older man had met him through some mutual acquaintance. George was the guy that was putting him through college, but why, I wasn’t sure.
The next shot was one of Myrna with a complete history of her that Jack had given me. Included was a medical record from the hospital when he had made her go cold turkey, which is dope-addict talk for an all-out cure. They cut them off from the stuff completely. It either kills them or cures them. In Myrna’s case, she made it. But she made Jack promise that he would never try to get any information from her about where she got the stuff. The way he fell for the girl, he was ready to do anything she asked, and so far as he was concerned, the matter was completely dropped.
I flipped through the medical record. Name, Myrna Devlin. Attempted suicide while under the influence of heroin. Brought to emergency ward of General Hospital by Detective Jack Williams. Admitted 3-15-40. Treatment complete 9-21-40. No information available on patient’s source of narcotics. Released into custody of Detective Jack Williams 9-30-40. Following this was a page of medical details which I skipped.
“Here’s one you’ll like, chum,” Velda grinned at me. She pulled out a full-length photo of a gorgeous blonde. My heart jumped when I saw it. The picture was taken at a beach, and she stood there tall and languid-looking in a white bathing suit. Long solid legs. A little heavier than the movie experts consider good form, but the land that make you drool to look at. Under the suit I could see the muscles of her stomach. Incredibly wide shoulders for a woman, framing breasts that jutted out, seeking freedom from the restraining fabric of the suit. Her hair looked white in the picture, but I could tell that it was a natural blonde. Lovely, lovely yellow hair. But her face was what got me. I thought Velda was a good looker, but this one was even lovelier. I felt like whistling.
“Who is she?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you. That leer on your face could get you into trouble, but it’s all there. Name’s Charlotte Manning. She’s a female psychiatrist with offices on Park Avenue, and very successful. I understand she caters to a pretty ritzy clientele.”
I glanced at the number and made up my mind that right here was something that made this business a pleasurable one. I didn’t say that to Velda. Maybe I’m being conceited, but I’ve always had the impression that she had designs on me. Of course she never mentioned it, but whenever I showed up late in the office with lipstick on my shirt collar, I couldn’t get two words out of her for a week.
I stacked the sheaf back on my desk and swung around in the chair. Velda was leaning forward ready to take notes. “Want to add anything, Mike?”
“Don’t think so. At least not now. There’s too much to think about first. Nothing seems to make sense.”
“Well, what about motive? Could Jack have had any enemies that caught up with him?”
“Nope. None I know of. He was square. He always gave a guy a break if he deserved it. Then, too, he never was wrapped up in anything big.”
“Did he own anything of any importance?”
“Not a thing. The place was completely untouched. He had a few hundred dollars in his wallet that was lying on the dresser. The killing was done by a sadist. He tried to reach his gun, but the killer pulled the chair it hung on back slowly, making him crawl after it with a slug in his gut, trying to keep his insides from falling out with his hand.”
“Mike, please.”
I said no more. I just sat there and glowered at the wall. Someday I’d trigger the bastard that shot Jack. In my time I’ve done it plenty of times. No sentiment. That went out with the first. After the war I’ve been almost anxious to get to some of the rats that make up the section of humanity that prey on people. People. How incredibly stupid they could be sometimes. A trial by law for a killer. A loophole in the phrasing that lets a killer crawl out. But
Velda came back into the office with the afternoon edition of the sheets. The kill was spread all over the front page, followed by a four-column layout of what details were available. Velda was reading over my shoulder and I heard her gasp.
“Did you come in for a blasting! Look.” She was pointing to the last paragraph. There was my tie-up with the case, but what she was referring to was the word-for-word statement that I had made to Jack. My promise. My word to a dead friend that I would kill this murderer as he had killed him. I rolled the paper into a ball and threw it viciously at the wall.
“The louse! I’ll break his filthy neck for printing that. I meant what I said when I made that promise. It’s sacred to me, and they make a joke out of it. Pat did that. And I thought he was a friend. Give me the phone.”
Velda grabbed my arm. “Take it easy. Suppose he did. After all, Pat’s still a cop. Maybe he saw a chance of throwing the killer your way. If the punk knows you’re after him for keeps he’s liable not to take it standing still and make a play for you. Then you’ll have him.”
“Thanks, kid,” I told her, “but your mind’s too clean. I think you got the first part right, but your guess on the last part smells. Pat doesn’t want me to have any part of him because he knows the case is ended right there. If he can get the killer to me you can bet your grandmother’s uplift bra that he’ll have a tail on me all the way with someone ready to stop in when the shooting starts.”
“I don’t know about that, Mike. Pat knows you’re too smart not to recognize when you’re being tailed. I wouldn’t think he’d do that.”
“Oh, no? He isn’t dumb by any means. I’ll bet you a sandwich against a marriage license he’s got a flatfoot downstairs covering every exit in the place ready to pick me up when I leave. Sure, I’ll shake them, but it won’t stop there. A couple of experts will take up where they leave off.”
Velda’s eyes were glowing like a couple of hot brands. “Are you serious about that? About the bet, I mean?”
I nodded. “Dead serious. Want to go downstairs with me and take a look?” She grinned and grabbed her coat. I pulled on my battered felt and we left the office, but not before I had taken a second glance at the office address of Charlotte Manning.
Pete, the elevator operator, gave me a toothy grin when we stepped into the car. “Evening, Mr. Hammer,” he said.
I gave him an easy jab in the short ribs and said, “What’s new with you?”
“Nothing much, ’cepting I don’t get to sit down much on the job anymore.” I had to grin. Velda had lost the bet already. That little piece of simple repartee between Pete and myself was a code system we had rigged up years ago. His answer meant that I was going to have company when I left the building. It cost me a fin a week but it was worth it. Pete could spot a flatfoot faster than I can. He should. He had been a pickpocket until a long stretch up the river gave him a turn of mind.
For a change I decided to use the front entrance. I looked around for my tail but there was none to be seen. For a split second my heart leaped into my throat. I was afraid Pete had gotten his signals crossed. Velda was a spotter, too, and the smile she was wearing as we crossed the empty lobby was a thing to see. She clamped onto my arm ready to march me to the nearest justice of the peace.
But when I went through the revolving doors her grin passed as fast as mine appeared. Our tail was walking in front of us. Velda said a word that nice girls don’t usually use, and you see scratched in the cement by some evil-minded guttersnipe.
This one was smart. We never saw where he came from. He walked a lot faster than we did, swinging a newspaper from his hand against his leg. Probably, he spotted us through the windows behind the palm, then seeing what exit we were going to use, walked around the corner and came past us as we left. If we had gone the other way, undoubtedly there was another ready to pick us up.
But this one had forgotten to take his gun off his hip and stow it under his shoulder, and guns make a bump look the size of a pumpkin when you’re used to looking for them.
When I reached the garage he was nowhere to be seen. There were a lot of doors he could have ducked behind. I didn’t waste time looking for him. I backed the car out and Velda crawled in beside me. “Where to now?” she asked.
