he said quietly. “A couple of Federal dicks are on their way up.”
Dillon got to his feet quickly and silently. “They got nothin’ on me,” he said.
Roxy pulled his coat away from his shoulder-holster and undid the buckle. He slipped off the harness. “If you got a rod, you better park it,” he said; “these guys get tough if they catch you toting a gun.”
Myra said in a little flurry of panic, “Where can we hide them?”
Roxy walked over to the fireplace and knelt down. He pushed the tiled hearth back like a drawer and dropped his gun into the narrow hollow beneath. “The old girl’s got this in every room. Use it.”
Dillon left the room and went to his apartment. He collected his two guns and the Thompson and stowed them away. He came back silently. “What’s the idea?” he snarled. “I thought this place was okay?”
Roxy nodded. “Sure it’s okay. You can’t keep the Feds outta any place. The bulls leave it alone, but not the Feds. You ain’t wanted by no G-man, are you?” There was sharp anxiety in his voice.
Dillon didn’t say anything. He stood by the table, a little tense. With eyes like chips of ice he stared at Roxy. The expression in his eyes quite startled Roxy.
Myra broke in. “I guess not,” she said.
Roxy relaxed. “Okay, just you go on drinkin’ an’ say nothin’. I’ll do the talkin’ if there’s any talkin’ to be done.”
“Hell!” Dillon said savagely. “That black cow’s goin’ to lose some of her rent. She’s nuts thinkin’ I’m payin’ all that dough, when the Feds can come in here.”
Roxy nodded his head. “Sure,” he said. “I guess she’s been stringin’ you along. You fix her. It’s been comin’ to her for a long time.”
Suddenly they heard a commotion going on downstairs. They stiffened involuntarily. “Here they come,” Roxy said, putting his feet up on the couch. “Now don’t let those guys stampede you. They’ll try all right.”
They could hear Miss Benbow protesting on the stairs. They, heard her say, “You dicks ain’t got anythin’ on me. You can’t come bustin’ in like this. I tell you this is a respectable house.”
Someone said in a gritty voice. “Take it easy, Coon, we’re just lookin’ the place over.”
A heavy step sounded outside then the door was kicked open. The three in the room turned their heads and looked. Dillon was cool, but Myra’s nerves were jumpy. Two big men stood in the doorway, their eyes watchful. Dillon thought they looked a couple of real tough birds.
“Hello, boys,” Roxy said from the couch. He kept his hands in his lap. “I guess you ain’t lookin’ for me?”
One of them wandered into the room, leaving the other by the door. He said. “Get up when you talk to me.”
Roxy got up quickly and took off his hat. He looked hard at the Federal and grinned a little uneasily. “Why, if it ain’t Mr. Strawn,” he said. “Ain’t seen you for a long time.”
Strawn went over to him and patted his pockets. “Where’s your rod?” he asked.
Roxy shrugged his shoulders. “You got me wrong,” he said. “I don’t tote a rod. You know me, boss; I wouldn’t do a thing like that.”
Strawn said, “That line don’t get you nowhere, so lay off it.”
He looked at Dillon. Then he glanced over to the other dick. “Seen this monkey before?” he asked.
The other dick shook his head.
Strawn walked over to Dillon. “Who’re you an’ what you doin’ around here?”
Dillon looked at him impassively. “Just havin’ a drink with a pal of mine,” he said. “What’s wrong with that?”
Strawn looked him over, his face hardening. “Where you from?” he snapped.
Dillon shot a look at Myra. Strawn swung his fist. He smacked Dillon on the jaw. Dillon was off balance—he went over with a thud.
Roxy yelled, “Don’t start anything!” His eyes were popping.
Dillon looked up at Strawn, his eyes black with hate. He came slowly to his feet, rubbing his jaw with his hand. Beyond the look in his eyes he remained impassive.
Strawn said, “Listen, you melon-headed monkey, when I ask you somethin’ you answer quick Where are you from an’ what’s your name?”
The other dick looked bored, but he had got a gun in his hand.
Dillon said between his teeth, “I’m from Plattsville. Name’s Gurney… Nick Gurney.”
Myra stood very still. She put her hand to her mouth.
“Just a big farmer’s hick, huh?” Strawn sneered. “Well, listen, hayseed, you better keep outta this town. We don’t like punks like you. You better go right back to Plattsville an’ stay there. Do you get it?”
Dillon just stood there hating him with his eyes. Strawn clenched his fists. “Answer me, will you? By heck! You get snotty with me, you goddam bohunk, an’ I’ll tear your guts out an’ beat you to death with ’em!”
Dillon said, “I get you.”
Strawn looked Myra over. “Well, sister, an’ who’re you?” he asked, eyeing her thoughtfully.
“I’m his wife,” Myra said quietly. She put a lot of personality into her look.
Strawn shook his head. “This ain’t no place for a kid like you to be in. You better get out an’ go home. You’ll lose a lotta time goin’ round with a bum like this.” He jerked his head at Dillon. “Forget him, an’, go home to your Ma.”
Myra lowered her eyes. She thought, “The big dumb-mouthed bastard.
Strawn shrugged. “Okay, watch yourselves, you three.” He stepped outside the door and pulled it shut. He said in a low voice to the other dick, “We’ll watch that Gurney, he’s a bad guy.”
Roxy held his hand up for silence. They sat there staring at the door, listening. It was only when they heard them go downstairs that they relaxed.
Dillon said evenly, “Some day I’ll fix that heel. By God! He’s got it comin’ to him!”
Verotti’s was a dive off Twenty-second Street, near the Union Station. Fanquist had a table in the corner. She was drinking a rye highball.
When Roxy came in with Dillon and Myra she waved excitedly to them. Roxy came up to the table and waved his hand. “This is Myra and Dillon,” he said. “They’ve got a room across the way.”
Fanquist had eyes only for Dillon. “What a hot-looking man!” she said. “Am I pleased to meet you, or am I?”
Myra’s face was cold. She sat down next to Fanquist, trapping her against the wall. Dillon sat opposite, with Roxy at his side.
Myra said, “It’s grand to run into a guy like Roxy. He’s been a real pal.”
Fanquist shot her a quick look. “Say,” she said, swiveling round so that she faced Myra, “what are you doin’ away from your Ma? Hey, hot man, you’re baby-snatching. That ain’t right.”
Myra’s eyes glinted. “Don’t embarrass him,” she cut in quickly. “He likes ’em young. This guy ain’t got time for broads who’ve got the grass worn off… you ask him.”
Fanquist leant against the wall. “Smart kid, huh?” she said, two bright-red spots on her cheeks. “Grass worn off, huh? That’s a nice crack from a kid.”
Myra turned her head. “Don’t we do anythin’ around here but talk?”
A waiter shuffled up and they ordered drinks. Roxy sat with his hat over his eyes, grinning to himself. Nothing pleased him more than to listen-in to two women clawing each other.
Fanquist leant over the table towards Dillon. “I bet you know some hot spots in this town,” she said.
From where he sat Dillon could look down the neck of her dress. He lifted his eyes and gave his hard stare. Fanquist suddenly felt a little cold. She sat back hurriedly.
Dillon said, “We thought maybe we might see some of em. We’ve just blown in.”
Roxy said, “That guy over there’s Hurst.”
They looked across at a table in the middle of the room. A big blond man was drinking by himself. He wore his neat dark suit well. There was an air of money and importance about him.
Dillon said, “Who’s Hurst?”
Fanquist laughed. “You do say things!” she said. “That guy’s tops just now. He runs most of the big rackets round here.”
“That so?” Dillon looked Hurst over again. “A big shot, huh?”
