Free nodded. “What’s this bookie Kronnen look like — did Miss Reynolds say?”
Hammond nodded. “He’s a big fellow with a long nose. Smooth-shaven and middle aged. He broke his arm sometime ago, and wears it in a sling. She said he seemed rather nice, and she felt sort of sorry for him, after she’d won this money.”
Free grinned. “Lovely client, Tim,” he said. “Feels sorry for bookies, murders mob leaders—”
Hammond interrupted sharply: “The personal habits and feelings of our clients are not important, Free.”
The ripped cloth of Free’s coat felt jagged under his finger. He took the finger away and smiled coldly.
“Kronnen’s with the fellow who shot at me,” he said. “I’ll go down that way and see what happens.”
Hammond swore. “That’s bad,” he breathed. “Kronnen is liable to have known Bandor took the girl to his place. And he owes her the money. With Bandor dead he hasn’t got the out he figured on. If he goes for the girl—”
Free pulled the brim of his hat low on his forehead. He looked at Hammond’s dissipated face.
“He doesn’t know where the girl is — New York’s pretty big.”
“And it gets small in a hurry,” Hammond breathed.
Free looked at the agency head narrowly. “Well — if they get her and she won’t pay — they’ll kill her. And that’ll make it even up.”
Hammond swore. His eyes were very small. “It won’t make it even up for us,” he said. “We’re being paid for keeping her in the clear.”
Free smiled narrowly. “That’s so,” he said. “I almost forgot that. You’d better eat without me.”
Hammond nodded. “I’ll have something sent in — and stick around. Give me a buzz when you get a chance. I’m glad you got back in time to handle this, Free.”
Don Free moved towards the office door. He didn’t speak. At the door he turned and smiled, closed the door behind him. He went down the corridor and into the office. Jen was taking a call; she said:
“Wait a second.”
She motioned to Free. Crail was on the wire.
“Just got a tip,” he said. “Tony Bandor’s been done for. In a soundproof room of a Village house he used, under cover. Or maybe you knew about it, Free.”
Free said. “Yeah, but what do the police know?”
Crail said: “Two slugs in the body — one close to the heart. No gun around — no one heard the shots. A flame of his is being held — she found the body and got hysterical. She says she thought he was a real estate operator. She’s a show girl. Her name’s Gray and the police think maybe she did the job, then came back and put on an act.”
Free coughed. “That all?” he asked.
“That’s all so far,” Crail said. “The sound-proof room had a couple of radios, in it, and Tony was supposed to have been a nut on the dial stuff. But there was a tight fitting door and stairs going down to the first floor. And the police think the room was used for the kill stuff. It isn’t pretty enough for a love nest. That’s all.”
Free said: “I’ll lay five it’ll be a love nest in the tabs, just the same. All right, Crail — buzz in again if you run into something.”
He hung up and Jen said: “Still like the hair?”
Free grinned. “When your hair has turned to platinum — I will love you — just the same—” he sang, off key. “Has Miss Reynolds called since she left?”
Jen Carle frowned. “No,” she said. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if she did.”
Free looked at the Lincoln picture. “Be nice to her, if she does, Jen,” he told her. “She’s very young and innocent.”
The secretary made a sniffling sound. “She’s very young,” she agreed, and Free went outside and towards the elevators.
4
Lanner looked at Don Free blankly as he passed close to the tall one’s speakeasy table. Free picked a chair at a table that kept his back to the one at which the gray trousered one and his companion sat. He faced a mirror that wasn’t too good, but it was good enough.
The one whose arm was in a sling had small eyes, a long nose and thin lips. It was the left arm that was in the sling. The shorter man with the gray trousers kept his head low and after five minutes of beer sipping Free hadn’t been able to get a good look at his face. He seemed to be about the build of the one who had come from the house with the green window boxes.
Free finished the beer, lighted a cigarette. The tall man rose and said a husky: “So long.” He had to pass close to Free’s table, but the agency man did not look at him. Someone called from near the bar: “How they runnin’, Eddie?”
The one with the arm in a sling shrugged. “So-so,” he replied, and went towards the hall that led to the entrance door of the speake. It wasn’t an exclusive speake; Free had got in easily on the strength of mentioning two political names that counted in the Village. He imagined Lanner had worked it the same way.
The one with the gray trousers ordered another drink. Free called the waiter and paid up. He passed close to Lanner’s table, dropped a box of matches and leaned over to pick it up. A radio was making sound.
“Stick with your man — I’ll take Kronnen,” he said. “I think they’ll get together again.”
Lanner looked blankly towards the radio loudspeaker. Free picked up the matches and went outside. Kronnen was hailing a cab. Free almost lost the one with the slinged arm before he could pick up a cruiser, and the cab driver almost lost the other taxi in traffic, on the way uptown. At Seventh and Fortieth the cab they were trailing pulled over against the curb and the long nosed one descended. Free leaned forward and said:
“This’ll do.”
He paid the fare, got slowly from the cab. Kronnen wasn’t hard to keep track of; he moved slowly, almost wearily. When he went into the building that held the offices of the Hammond Agency Free swore softly. Kronnen bought cigarettes at a small counter that was still open. Two elevators were running — Kronnen headed for one that had only the operator inside. Free didn’t follow. The elevator doors closed. The indicator showed that it stopped at three. It went on up to seven and came down with a messenger boy. Free got in and said: “Three.”
When he went into the Hammond Agency office Jen was pulling a small hat over her platinum colored hair. She looked at him and raised eyebrows.
“Back so soon?” she said.
Free grinned. “Did Tim just tell you to send a big man with a long nose and an arm in a sling — inside?” he asked.
She nodded. “A Mr. Harper,” she replied.
Free nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “That hat goes nice with the hair, but you should use a lighter colored lipstick.”
She thought it over and said: “I think you’re right. Thanks, Free. Shall I buzz Tim?”
He shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll wait around a bit.”
She finished fixing her face and said: “Don’t mind if I leave you? I’ve had a rotten day.”
Free looked at the picture of Lincoln. “Run along,” he told her. “And don’t worry.”
She looked at him with her eyes almost closed. “Don’t worry?” she repeated. “About what?”
He smiled and shrugged. “About anything,” he said. “Just smile. Be happy. Laugh and the world laughs with—”
She swore at him and went to the outer door. Beside it she stopped for a few seconds, turned and looked at him.
“A lot of things can happen in ten days, Free,” she said very grimly. “Or maybe you know that.”
“I’ve suspected it,” he said. “Let’s see — I was away about ten days — yes?”
She said very softly: “Yes.” She went out and closed the door behind her.