Sergeant Miller immediately and quietly entered the saloon after this woman. He found the place crowded with sixty or eighty customers. As he gazed at them in the murky light an expression of bafflement spread over his face. Three minutes thereafter he was enclosed in a phone booth in a rear corner and making a report direct to Captain Dango.
“Look, Captain, I respectfully submit we gotta get a better description,” he complained. “There’s entirely too many big, bleached blondes on the loose tonight. In this joint right now there’s exactly eight of ’em, and every one looks so much like Blossom Regg’s supposed to look that I wouldn’t know which to pick. I can’t step up and ask each one what’s her name and is she the dame I’m supposed to be tailing, can I? And if they start scattering, Captain, how’n hell’m I gonna tail all eight at once? See what I mean, Captain?”
Dango, disconnecting, could see very well what Miller meant. He was wondering what to do about it when his phone rang again. This time it was Sergeant Brown, whom Lieutenant Hyam had put to investigating Timothy Regg.
“One thing I found out about him, Captain — aside from the fact that he’s a quiet, well-behaved, hard-working citizen — is that last week he bought a couple sticks of dynamite.”
“Dynamite?” Dango muttered. “What for?”
“I can’t answer that one, captain. In this state people can buy dynamite over a hardware store counter without a license and without explaining what for. However, they do have to have a permit to store it. I checked this and found out Timothy Regg duly got such a permit to keep two sticks of dynamite on the premises at 413 Beetle Street for not longer than thirty days. So he’s legal on both counts.”
“And just what the hell am I supposed to do about the fact that he’s a law-abiding man?”
“Sorry, Captain. Call you back when I’ve got something important.”
While mulling this over in his mind Dango received another call, this one from Hyam.
“The tie-up is getting stronger, Danny. I mean I’m picking up more and more info to show that Blossom Regg really is the babe that Lennox was seeing the most of lately. The usual thing on his part, they say, but plenty serious on hers. No doubt of it, we’re getting somewhere by playing your hunch. More info later.”
Dango winced at that word hunch. Thoughts of Timothy Regg kept nagging his troubled mind when he should be thinking about Lennox, who was remaining persistently and completely missing. Feeling feverish, Dango began pacing his office. Presently the door opened and Sergeant Kerson stepped in, also looking worried.
“That little guy is getting under my skin,” he complained. “I can’t get rid of him. He just keeps sitting there. Sometimes he mutters to himself. A minute ago I heard him saying, ‘I do hope and pray she’ll never, never touch my little black book.’ Then when I asked him how’s that again, he apologized and went on fidgeting.”
Looking out into his waiting room, Dango found that Timothy Regg, seated there, was looking even sadder than before. His doomful convictions seemed to be growing on him. Regg rose with an apologetic air and came to the connecting doorway with a reminder.
“As I said, Captain, I want you to know exactly where I am every minute, so there won’t be any question that I’m entirely in the clear in case something terrible does happen to my Blossom.”
Dango quietly took his arm, led him back to his original chair, sat him down, then stood frowning over him.
“Mr. Regg, you recently purchased two sticks of dynamite. For what purpose?”
The little man looked astonished by the question. “Why,” he answered, “for rats.”
“For rats?” Dango echoed. “Dynamite?”
“Why, yes. I’m troubled with rats in the basement of my shop. Sometimes they get into the liquor cases and eat the tax stamps right off the bottles, and then I can’t sell those bottles without violating the law or going through a lot of red tape to get new stamps.
“One of my neighbors suggested using dynamite to get rid of them. She said just to break up the sticks and sprinkle the stuff around, then they’ll eat it and die. They seem to like it better than regular rat poison, she said, because it has an attractive sweetish odor and pleasant taste. Besides, it’s safer.”
“Dynamite safer than rat poison?”
“Yes, because it won’t get tracked around and set the place on fire, like phosphorus, and none of it will find its way into the stomachs of my neighbors’ pets, like other poisons. As for the danger of an explosion, of course you know, Captain, that dynamite won’t explode unless it’s set off by a sudden shock, usually a percussion cap.”
“That’s right,” Dango admitted. “Does it really work? On rats, I mean?”
“I don’t know,” Regg answered, smiling. “I forgot to use it — so busy I just tucked it back on a shelf and forgot about it. I’m glad you reminded me. Now I’ll remember to try it as soon as I get back to the shop. I’ll have to try it before my storage permit runs out anyway, because I wouldn’t want to violate the law in any way.”
Dango shook his head. In more than one wacky way this night was building up into one he wouldn’t soon forget.
“Mr. Regg, we’ve scores of men looking for Mrs. Regg all over the city, but so far we haven’t spotted her. Unfortunately it’s necessary for me to keep most of my men in the Lennox dragnet. That’s important too. You know Lennox?”
“I don’t recall that I ever met him.”
“Lennox is a self-styled hot-shot who made the mistake of thinking he could get away with wholesale lawbreaking. He insisted on running a fancy gambling den in a respectable residential neighborhood, right next door to a church. He insisted on it in spite of two raids.
“The third time, early this morning, he was drunk when we crashed in on him and he made the even greater mistake of trying to beat the rap with a gun. Now we want him on a double murder charge.
“We’re sure he’s still somewhere inside this town and we’re not going to stop combing it until we come up with him.” Dango’s frown grew a little darker. “Do you know if Mrs. Regg ever happened to meet him?”
“Oh, of course not,” Regg said. “Blossom couldn’t possibly know a disreputable character of that sort.”
Dango heaved another sigh. This was certainly not the first time he had met a husband in blissful ignorance of the fact that his supposedly loyal wife was run-ring around behind his back with some flashy guy.
This time, however, considering the dashing handsomeness of Len Lennox as compared with the washed-out mildness of Timothy Regg, it was more easily understandable than usual. Still, not knowing just how to size up this odd little man, who might conceal an unknown strength of character or intellect inside his puny frame, Dango felt he must proceed carefully.
“Mr. Regg, you have assured me you love your wife deeply. As one of your neighbors, I know — speaking frankly — that at times she gets, let us say, a little rough with you. With true affection, however, your devotion to her remains unshaken. But tell me this: is there anything she might do that would turn you against her?”
“Yes,” Timothy Regg answered simply, and a glint came into his bright blue eyes — a glint of such cold mercilessness that Captain Dango shuddered to see it. “Yes. One thing. Only one. If she loved somebody else. But,” he added quickly, his eyes growing softer again, “I haven’t had the slightest reason to worry.”
“You’re sure of it?” Captain Dango asked softly.
“Absolutely,” Timothy Regg said, pronouncing the word with the force of utter conviction.
Captain Dango sat down. “Mr. Regg,” he said wearily, “you may stay right there in that chair if you wish — so I’ll know just where you are every minute. Rest assured we’re doing our best to bring your wife under our official wing tonight. Meanwhile all we can do is wait for a report from the field that we’ve found her. While waiting I’ll have to put in a little time on the Lennox case. Please make yourself comfortable, Mr. Regg, and excuse me for a few minutes.”