The Golden Gizmo

He rapped once, then entered the room the man had indicated. He hooked the summer door behind him. He grinned pleasantly as he closed and locked the other door.

'Hi, Ruthie,' he said. 'How've you been?'

'How you, honey?' She made a pretense of recognizing him. 'Ain't seen you in a long time.'

She might have been twenty-five or ten years older, depending on how long she'd been at it. Red- haired. Piled together pretty good. She wore sheer silk stockings, high-heeled black pumps and a black nylon brassiere. That was all she wore.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, shaving her calves.

'You mind waitin' a second honey? I kinda hate to stop an' start all over again.'

'Let me help you,' said Toddy promptly.

He took the razor from her hand and pushed her gently back on the bed. He said, 'Sorry, kid,' and snapped his free fist against the point of her chin.

Her eyes closed and her arms went limp. Her feet slipped from the mattress, and he caught and lowered them to the floor.

Stepping to the window, he ducked under the shade and looked out. Wrong room. The fire escape opened on the next one. He might-but, no, it was too far. He could barely see the damned thing. Trying to jump that far in the dark would be suicide.

Ducking back into the room, he stepped to the tall Japanese screen and moved it aside. There was a low door behind it, a door blocked by a small bureau. Toddy almost laughed aloud at the sight of it. A bureau joint, for God's sake! He'd thought that gimmick had gone out with 'Dardanella.' Probably it had, too. This one probably wasn't used any more… but it might still be working.

In this little frammis, one of the oldest, you were persuaded to leave your clothes on the bureau… You see, honey? No one can touch 'em. The door swings in this way, and the bureau's in front of it. You can see for yourself, honey…

Toddy pulled out the top drawer and laid it on the bed. Reaching into the opening, he found the doorknob. Would the dodge work from this side, that was the question. If it didn't-

The knob turned slowly. There was a quiet click. Then, a little above the level of the bureau, the mortised panels of the door parted and the upper half swung toward him.

The head of a brass bedstead blocked the doorway on the other side. The man in it stared stupidly through the rails at Toddy. He was a young man, but he had a thick platinum blond beard. Or so it seemed. Then, he raised his head, bewilderedly, and Toddy saw that the hair spread out on the pillow beneath him was a woman's.

'F-for gosh sake!' the man gasped indignantly. 'What kind of a whorehouse is-'

Toddy's hand shot out. He caught the guy by the back of the head and jerked it between the bed rails.

The man grunted. The platinum hair stirred frantically on the pillow to an accompaniment of smothered groans. Toddy gave the bed a push. It slid forward a few inches, and he entered the room.

He stepped out the window, and stared down the fire escape. He took two steps, a third. The fourth was into space. Except for his grip on the handrail, he would have plunged into the alley.

He drew himself back, stood hugging the metal breathlessly… Should have expected this, he thought. Building's probably been condemned for years. Now… He looked upward. No telling what was up there, but it was the only way to go.

All hell was breaking loose as he started up again. Doors were slamming, women screaming, men cursing. There was the thunder of overturning furniture-of heavy objects swung wickedly. And with it all, of course, the fearsome threatening snarl of the talking dog.

Suddenly, arms shot out of the window and clutched at Toddy's feet. He kicked blindly and heard a yell of pain. He raced up the remaining steps to the roof.

Stepping over the parapet, his hand dislodged a brick, and he flung it downward, heard it shatter on the steel landing. He pushed mightily with his foot, and a whole section of the wall went tumbling down. That, he thought, would give them something to think about.

Slowly, picking his way in the darkness, he started across the roof. There was no way out on either of the side streets he had been on. That meant he'd have to try for something on the parallel thoroughfare-up at this end, naturally, as far as he could get from the burly house.

He bumped painfully into a chimney, stumbled over an abandoned tar pot. He paused to flex his agonized toes and shake the sweat from his eyes. Unknotting his tie, he stuffed it into the pocket of his coat and swung the coat over his arm.

He was almost to the street now, and the majority of the buildings should be occupied. At any moment, he should be coming to a roof-trap or a skylight where-Ooof!

Glass shattered under his feet; there was a flash of light. He tried to throw himself backward and knew sickeningly that it was too late. He shot downward.

With a groaning wirish whree something caught his body in a sagging embrace. It hugged, then shoved him away. Upward. He landed on his side, unhurt but badly shaken. He opened his eyes cautiously.

He was lying on the floor beside a metal cot-a cot which, obviously, would never be slept in again. Down this side of the room and along the other were rows of other cots. At one end of the room, easily identifiable despite the half-partitions around them, were shower stalls and a line of toilets.

A flophouse, Toddy thought. Then he noticed the multitudinous chromos on the walls-GOD IS LOVE… JESUS SAVES… THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD… and he amended the opinion. A mission flophouse. Heb. 13:8.

He got up and brushed the glass from his clothes. Picking up his coat, he crossed to the other side of the room and looked out a window. The stale air and the almost complete absence of light told him what he could not see. An air shaft. He'd have to go out through the door at the end of the room, and, if he knew his missions, there'd be plenty of people to pass.

Pondering drearily, desperately, a hope born of utter hopelessness entered and teased at his mind. Maybe Chinless hadn't got to Elaine. Maybe he didn't want to get Toddy. He might not have missed the watch. He might- uh-just want to talk to him.

Oh, hell. Why kid himself? Still, the idea wasn't completely crazy, was it? Elaine's murder had taken careful timing, a complete disregard for danger on the part of the murderer. Anyone as ruthless and resourceful as that would not waste time with dogs. Not if they wanted to bump you.

Chinless must have missed the watch. He'd missed it and he was holding off on killing him, Toddy, until he got it back. He-but wait a minute! If Chinless had got to Elaine, he already had the watch! Why else would he have killed-

'Is this right, brother?' said a severe voice. 'Is this how we live in God's way?'

The man wore that look of puffed elation which seems to be the trademark of do-gooders, an expression born of a conscious constipation of goodness; of great deeds and wondrous wisdom held painfully in check; a resigned look, a martyred look, a determinedly sad look-a perpetual bitterness at the world's unawareness of their worth, at the fact that men born of clay take no joy in excrement, regardless of its purveyor. The man had a thick, sturdy body, a bull neck, a size six and five eighths head.

He gripped Toddy's arm and marched him swiftly toward the door. 'Don't do this again, brother,' he warned. 'The physical man must be provided for, yes. We recognize the fact. But before that comes our duty to God.'

Toddy made sounds of acquiescence. This guy obviously wasn't used to having his authority questioned.

They went down a short flight of stairs which opened abruptly into a small sweat-and-urine-scented