Clancy’s face became grim. “I’ll talk to him,” he said sourly.
“And Clancy, if you can keep him on ice for a week, you’ll be doing me a favour.”
“I will, will I?” he looked at me hard. “What are you up to?”
“Never mind that,” I said. “You ask Summers, he’ll tell you. But Bogle’s got the wrong idea and he’ll be better off out of the way. Do what you can for me, will you? I’ll give you a good write-up if I handle the story.”
“That reminds me,” Clancy said, snapping his thick fingers. “Maddox ‘phoned through a couple of hours back. He wanted you to go around to his office right away.”
This startled me. “Maddox?” I repeated. “Wants to see me?”
“Yeah,” Clancy said.
“Okay, thanks, Clancy. Be seeing you. So long,” and I beat it out of Headquarters as fast as I could travel.
As I got into the street a cruising taxi slowed down and the driver looked at me hopefully. I nodded and he stopped.
“Recorder office,” I said, and jerked open the door. Then I paused.
There was a girl sitting in the far corner.
“What’s the idea?” I demanded, turning on the driver. “You’ve got a customer, you pudden-headed monkey.”
“Get in, Mr. Millan,” the girl said. “I want to talk to you.” The voice was familiar and I looked back into the cab. Lydia Brandt was sitting there and in her hand she held a small, businesslike automatic. Its snub nose was pointed at my waistcoat.
“Why, hello,” I said, because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Get in,” she repeated. “Unless you want another belly button.”
“Not outside police headquarters,” I said hastily. “It’d be bad for their nerves,” and I got in and sat down gingerly beside her.
The driver shot the cab away from the curb and took off down the street.
Lydia Brandt was dressed in a smart olive green dress, and cerise turban, gloves, handbag and shoes. She looked like Fifth Avenue.
“Didn’t I tell you I was susceptible to your feminine lure, you beautiful butterfly? I don’t need kidnapping at the point of a gun,” I said, watching her closely because I didn’t like the efficient, almost careless way she handled the automatic. From that range a slug from that pop-gun could make me awfully unhappy.
“Mr. Kruger wants to see you,” she said indifferently. “I thought you might not be anxious to come.”
“What, not see Peppi?” I said. “You don’t know me. He’s a guy I dream about. I want his autograph and I’ll wear his old clothes.”
“Very funny,” she said, .her eyes darkening. “You’ll laugh the other side of your face before long.”
“Don’t threaten me,” I returned, smiling at her. “Peppi wants to give me a job. I was going to call him anyway.”
She put the automatic on top of her bag and folded her long, slim fingers over it. Its barrel still pointed at me, but she had taken her finger off the trigger and that gave me more confidence. “You want to be sure to pick someone smaller than yourself next time you start fighting,” she said, eyeing my bruises.
“Never mind that,” I said, relaxing. “You know it was a dumb trick to pick me up outside police headquarters. Both from Peppi’s and my own point of view. It’s not the smartest thing to let the cops know that we are interested in each other.”
“What do you mean?” She looked searchingly at me.
“I’ve been turned loose, but I’m willing to bet my last pair of socks that I’ve got a load of law tailing me and I’ll be tailed from now on.”
I’d hit the right note. She looked alarmed.
“Tailing you?” she repeated and looked hastily through the little rear window.
There was a lot of traffic on the road and she didn’t see any particular car that attracted attention.
But the movement was enough for me. I had her gun before she knew what I was doing. I put it in my pocket. “You’ll excuse me,” I said. “But that heater made me nervous.”
She sat glowering at me.
“And now,” I went on. “Let’s be sensible. Tell the driver to take us to my apartment. I want to talk to you.”
“You can talk here,” she said, her voice off key.
“Don’t be a dope,” I said sharply. “You’ve had your fun. I’m going to have mine.” I leaned forward and told the driver my address. “And make it snappy, Happy,” I added.
He made no move to change direction, but kept on towards Fifth Avenue.
“One of your boys?” I said, looking at her.
She didn’t say anything, but I could see I was right. I took her automatic out of my pocket and rammed it into the driver’s neck. “Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time,” I said.
He swung off the main street and I sat back.
“You’ll pay for this,” she said angrily.
“Be smart,” I returned. “Look back now,” and I indicated a large black car sitting on our tail. “That’s the law, and let me tell you something: I’m tied up in a murder case. If they think Peppi’s in on this, they’ll take him apart just for the fun of it.”
I could see she didn’t know what to think.
“You don’t have to get your girdle twisted,” I went on. “I just want to have a little talk with you, then I’ll go over and see Peppi. But, before I do, I’ve got to shake these coppers.”
Neither of us said anything until we reached my apartment, then as she got out of the taxi I cautioned her, “Don’t make a fuss,” I said, “just go straight in.”
The driver, a thin, weedy youth looked at her enquiringly but she crossed the sidewalk without saying anything to him and entered my apartment. I gave him a half a buck. “Tell Peppi I’ll be along in a little while,” I said, and left him staring after me.
As Lydia and I entered the apartment house the big black car swept by. I caught a glimpse of Clancy, looking back through the window then I shut the front door quietly.
“Sit down and make yourself at home,” I said, waving to the armchair.
She faced me. “What do you want?” she demanded angrily. Her cobalt blue eyes were dark and the lines of her mouth hard.
I took her arm and shoved her gently into the chair. “I want to talk to you,” I said and stood over her. “Ansell was murdered this afternoon. He was killed by a girl who’s impersonating Myra Shumway.”
“He was killed by Myra Shumway,” Lydia said softly. “Well, anyway that told me where we stood.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“With Mr. Kruger.”
“The other one’s with him too?”
“There’s no other one.”
“Oh yes there is,” I said grimly. “This talk’s off the record. Neither of us have witnesses and I want to get things clear.”
“There’s no other one,” she repeated.
“Okay, there’s no other one. What is Kruger going to do with her?”
“He’ll tell you when he sees you.”
“That’s what he wants to see me about?”
“Why did she kill Doc. Ansell?”
“You’d better ask her that yourself.”
“You tell me.”
She didn’t say anything.
I pushed myself off the table and wandered to the window. There was a guy on the opposite side of the street, hiding behind a newspaper. He had copper written all over him from his hard hat to his fiat feet. I turned back to Lydia.
