office. I didn’t hear what happened, of course.”
I stubbed out my cigarette, lit another. “Think carefully. Did
anything happen at all after that?”
“I saw Frankie go into Bradley’s office, and later he came out and
went to the garage. He spoke to Sam and said something about going
down to the country right away. I could see he was wild with rage, but
I can’t remember anything else happening.”
“You’ve remembered enough,” I said, crossed over to the
telephone, turned up Merryweather in the book. I found his private
address, put through a call.
He answered himself.
“This is Harmas here,” I said. “Can you get in touch with
Littlejohns at once and warn him to look out for a man who’s on his
way to Lakeham?”
Merryweather said he could. There was surprise in his voice. He
asked for a description, and I gave him an accurate picture of Julius
Cole. “He’ll probably arrive in a Standard Fourteen,” I said, gave the
licence number. “Tell Littlejohns not to lose sight of him, even if it
means taking his eyes off Mrs. Brambee. Cole is important. I guess
he’ll be staying with Mrs. Brambee anyway. Will you get on to that
right away?”
Merryweather promised to call Littlejohns immediately, hung up.
Crystal was listening to all this, her eyes wide with interest.
“You know I get a thrill out of hearing your voice when you get
business-like,” she said. “It’s like being in a movie with Humphrey
Bogart.”
“You remember what Bogart did to Bacall?” I asked, advancing
and making faces at her.
“I seem to remember it wasn’t very polite,” she said, backing
hurriedly away.
I grabbed her, did what Bogart had done to Bacall, asked her how
she liked it.
“I’d forgotten,” she sighed, holding me close. “Much more,
please.”
I had a sudden idea. “‘Fell me, honey, did you ever meet a guy
named Jacobi at the club?”
She shook her head. “You mean the one who was murdered? “
Oh, no, I didn’t know him, but I knew his wife, Selma. She used to be
one of the girls at the club before she married him. She was a sweet
kid and crazy about George. I haven’t seen her since he was killed. I
don’t know where she’s living. I wanted to see her because I knew
she’d be terribly cut-up at losing George, although he wasn’t a great
loss as far as I could see.”
“Selma Jacobi,” I said thoughtfully, “maybe she fits in this puzzle,
too.”
Crystal tightened her grip around my neck. “Could we forget all
this just for a little while?” she pleaded. “I don’t believe you care for
me one little bit. All you’re interested in is your horrid old puzzles.”
“Not all the time,” I said.
“Could we have a little fun this very moment?” she asked, pressed
her lips on mine.
We had fun.
Chapter XIV
THEY were waiting for me as I came out of Crystal’s flat. I guess I
asked for it. I should have been on my guard after Bradley’s threat,
but the hectic couple of hours I’d spent with Crystal had numbed me,
and I stepped into the dark street without the slightest suspicion of
what was coming to me.
It happened so quickly that I could only give a strangled shout
before something crashed down on my head and I blacked out.
I recovered to find myself lying on the floor of a fast moving car,
an evil smelling rug over my head and shoulders, someone’s heavy
feet on my chest. My head ached, and the rug threatened to stifle me.
I lay still, tried to make out what had happened. I guessed this was
Bradley’s idea of teaching me to mind my own business. I wasn’t
happy, wondered where I was being taken, and if I was going to have
my throat slit. Cautiously I moved my hands. They were free and so
were my legs. Maybe whoever had cracked me on the head had
underestimated the thickness of my skull.
The two feet lifted, thumped down on me again.
“Keeps quiet, don’t he?” a voice said.
“I ‘ope you didn’t bash ‘im too ‘ard, Joe,” another voice said.
“Not me,” Joe said. “I only patted ‘is ‘ead with my fist. ‘E’ll be orl
right once I tug ‘is ears a bit.”
I grimaced. Having my ears tugged was not one of my favourite
pastimes.
“We oughter be there by now,” the second voice went on. “ ‘Ere,
Bert, ‘ow much farther is it?”
“Just ‘ere,” the first voice said. “This’ll do, won’t it?”
“Yes, this is orl right,” Joe said.
The car slowed, bumped over uneven ground, stopped. “Nice
quiet spot wid no one to interfere wid us,” Bert remarked.
Three of them, I thought. Well, three were better than four. I lay
still, waited developments.
Boots trod on me; the car doors opened; feet scraped on gravel.
“Get ‘im out, and be careful ‘e ain’t foxing,” Bert said. ‘Ere, Joe,
you ‘andle ‘im. Ted and me’ll stand by just in case ‘e stares any funny
business.”
“I ‘ope ‘e does,” the man called Joe replied. “I don’t like bashing a
bloke in cold blood.”
I began to like Joe a little.
The other two laughed. “That’s a good ‘un,” Bert sneered. “I ain’t
so particular, nor’s Ted. Are you, Ted?”
“I’m looking forward to bashing the
,” Ted said cheerfully. “I
ain’t ‘ad any exercise for the past two weeks.”
Hands grabbed my ankles. I was dragged bodily out of the car. My
