The boy had gone into the repair shop. I had an idea he was watching me, although I couldn’t see him. I waited a moment or so, thinking. Was it a coincidence that Barratt had appeared here? I didn’t think so. Then I remembered Mifflin had told me Lute Ferris was a suspected marijuana smuggler. I knew Barratt smoked the stuff. Was that the hook-up between them? Was it also a coincidence that Mary Jerome should have picked on his out-of- the-way garage from which to hire a car? Again I didn’t think so. I suddenly realized I was making discoveries and progress for the first time since I started on this case. I decided to take a look at Mrs. Ferris.
I got out of the Buick, and set off along the concrete path that led past the repair shop to the bungalow.
The boy was standing in the shadows, just inside the door of repair shop. He stared at me woodenly as I passed. I stared right back at him.
He didn’t move or say anything, so I went on, turned the comer of the shed and marched up the path to the bungalow.
There was a line of washed clothes across the unkept garden: a man’s singlet, a woman’s vest, socks, stockings and a pair of ancient dungarees. I ducked under the stockings, and rapped on the shabby, blistered front door.
There was a lengthy pause, and as I was going to rap again the door opened.
The girl who stood in the doorway was small and Compact and blowsy. Even at a guess I couldn’t have put her age within five years either side of twenty-five. She looked as if life hadn’t been fun for a long time; so long she had ceased to care about fun, anyway. Her badly bleached hair was stringy and limp. Her face was puffy and her eyes red with recent weeping. Only the cold, hard set to her mouth showed she had a little spirit left, not much, but enough.
‘Yes?’ She looked at me suspiciously. ‘What do you want?’
I tipped my hat at her.
‘Mr. Ferris in?’
‘No. Who wants him?’
‘I understand he rented a car to Miss Jerome. I wanted to talk to him about her.’
She took a slow step back and her hand moved up to rest on the doorknob. In a second or so she was going to slam the door in my face.
‘He’s not here, and I’ve nothing to tell you.’
‘I’ve been authorized to pay for any information I get,’ I said hurriedly as the door began to move.
‘How much?’
She was looking now like a hungry dog looking at a bone.
‘Depends on what I get. I might spring a hundred bucks.’
The tip of a whitish tongue ran the length of her lips.
‘What sort of information?’
‘Could I step inside? I won’t keep you long.’
She hesitated. I could see suspicion, fear and money-hunger wrestling in her mind. Money won, as it usually does. She stood aside.
‘Well, come in. It’s not over-tidy, but I’ve been busy.’
She led me into a back room. It was shabby and dirty and sordid. The furniture looked as if it had come from the junk- man’s barrow; the threadbare carpet sent out little puffs of dust when I trod on it. There were greasy black finger-prints on the overmantel and the walls. The least one could say of it was, it was not over-tidy.
She sat down in an easy chair that sagged under her weight and stared at me, uneasy and suspicious.
‘The boy said your husband is out of town. I didn’t believe him,’ I said.
‘I don’t know where he is.’ Her eyes suddenly filled with tears and she turned her head. ‘I think he’s skipped.’
I felt a prickle run up my spine.
‘What makes you think that?’
She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.
‘What about this money? I haven’t a damn cent. He went off, owing money everywhere. I haven’t enough even to buy food.’
‘You’ll get it if you have anything worth while to tell me.’
Her face hardened.
‘I could tell you plenty. They think I don’t know anything, but I do. I keep my ears and eyes open. I know all about them. I’ve had enough of this hole. I’ll sell them out if you give me enough to get away from here.’
‘Sell who out?’
‘Lute and Barratt.’
I took out my bill-fold. It felt very lean. I had only thirty dollars left. I took out a twentydollar bill and dangled it before her.
‘There’s more where this comes from. How much do you want?’
She leaned forward and snatched the bill out of my hand.
‘Five hundred and I’ll give you the works.’
‘What do you think I am—made of money? A hundred.’
She gave me a cold, fixed stare.
‘That’s my price; take it or leave it. I’m going to get out of here. I’ll give you a signed statement. It’ll blow the lid off their racket. Take it or leave it.’
‘I’ve got to know what I’m buying. You’ll get your five hun-dred if what you’ve got is what I want. Tell me.’
She hesitated, staring at me.
Who are you working for?’
‘Perelli. Let’s have it.’
‘I’ll give you a little of it,’ she said at last. ‘I’ll give you the whole of it when I have the money. Lute, Barratt and Dedrick are running the biggest smuggling racket on the coast. They’re supplying millions of reefers all over the country and to Paris, London, and Berlin. Lute looks after Los Angeles and San Francisco. Barratt takes care of London and New York. Ded- rick supplies Paris and Berlin. How’s that for a sample?’
‘You’re sure about Dedrick?’
She gave me a sneering little smile.
‘I’m sure. I’ve heard them talk. They think I’m dumb, but I’m not. If they had treated me right I would have kept my mouth shut. I know where they keep the reefers. There’s not much I don’t know. You’ll get it all for five hundred bucks, and it’ll be cheap at the price.’
‘What do you know about Mary Jerome?’
She chewed her underlip, her eyes hard.
‘I know all about her. I know where she is too.’
‘Where is she?’
‘She was at the Beach Hotel, but she isn’t there now. I’m not giving you any more until I get the money. I know why Ded- rick was kidnapped. I tell you, I can lift the lid right off this racket, but I’m going to be paid first.’
‘Okay. I have a car outside. Come down to my office. You’ll have your money and can talk in comfort.’
‘I’m not moving from here. You might take me anywhere.’
‘I’ll take you to my office. Come on.’
‘No! I’m not all that crazy.’
‘What did Barratt want just now?’
‘I don’t know. He comes to see the boy. That’ll show you how they treat me. He doesn’t bother to see me. He just talks to the boy and goes away again. Lute hasn’t been near me since he went off with that woman.’
‘You mean Mary Jerome?’
‘I don’t know who it was. It might have been her. I didn’t see her. She telephoned. I heard Lute talking to her. He said, ‘All right, baby, don’t get so excited. I’m coming right over. He didn’t even bother to say good-bye. He took the car and went, and I haven’t seen him since.’
‘When was this?’
