Beyfield had sunk a hand in his coat pocket. It might have been his finger or a gun that he was pointing at me through the cloth of his coat.
“That’s too bad,” I said, lighting up. “But I still want cooperation.” I turned and leaned against the wall.
Macey picked his nose. “What sort of cooperation?” He wasn’t looking at me now, but down his feet. I noticed he was wearing buckskin shoes and powder-blue socks.
“Four girls have disappeared from this town and nothing’s been done about it,” I said. “I’ve been hired to find them.”
“Four girls?” His voice was soft, but his jowls and where his neck ought to have been turned red. “Who told you?”
“Never mind who told me,” I said. “I hear things. You’re going to get a pain where you won’t like it if something isn’t done.”
He touched off ash before saying: “Who told you about Mary Drake?”
“You don’t have to bother with that angle,” I returned, wandering over to the armchair and sitting down. “You’re not making a secret of it, are you? You’d better tell Starkey to lay off. He’s overplaying his hand.”
Macey’s mouth pursed and he raised his eyebrows at Beyfield. “Hear that?” he said sourly.
“Maybe we’d better bounce him a little,” Beyfield said. “The guy’s hysterical.”
“Don’t give me that stuff,” I said, looking from one to the other. “I’ve got enough evidence to stick the Feds on Starkey. How would you like that?”
Macey didn’t seem to think much of the idea. “What evidence?”
I shook my head. “You’re not acting like a policeman,” I said, “and I don’t trust you. Everything I’ve found I’m turning over to the Feds.”
He blew smoke in a thick cloud at his feet, reached inside his coat and pulled a blunt-nosed automatic. He pointed it at me and said to Beyfield: “Take a look around.”
Beyfield went through the room methodically. He didn’t miss anything and he didn’t make a mess. He put everything back as he found it. After ten minutes he was through.
I sat watching him. “Don’t miss the bathroom,” I said. He grunted and went into the bathroom.
“Smart guy, huh?” Macey’s face was congested. “I could book you and make you talk.”
“Wolf wouldn’t like that,” I returned. “Be your age, Macey. You can’t afford to act the copper so long as you’re backing Starkey. I’m not scared of you or of any of your boys. Take me down to headquarters and see where it gets you. Wolf would raise such a squawk the Governor would hear him.”
Beyfield came out of the bathroom. He was still chewing placidly. “Nothing,” he said, and went back to loll up against the wall.
Macey jerked his head at my suit that was lying on the chair. As he did so I remembered Mary Drake’s handkerchief. If they found that I’d be in a hell of a jam. They might even try to pin the kidnapping on me.
“I’ve had enough of this,” I said angrily. “You leave my personal things alone or come back with a warrant.”
The automatic came up slowly so the barrel pointed right between my eyes. “At this distance,” Macey said, showing his yellow teeth, “I’m a pip of a shot. If you don’t believe it, start something and see where it gets you.”
Beyfield went through my suit with practised hands. I watched him with forced calm, but I didn’t feel so good. When he came to the pocket where I had put the handkerchief I had a hard time not to start something. I was so surprised when his hand came out empty that I nearly gave myself away.
“Finished?” I said, wanting to search the pocket myself. I knew he couldn’t have missed the handkerchief and that meant it was no longer in my pocket. It also meant that the female jiu-jitsu had got it, and that made me mad.
Beyfield worked his jaws around the gum before saying: “He’s bluffing.”
“Do you think I’m crazy enough to keep anything in this room?” I said. “Whatever I’ve got is somewhere safe. And now if you’ve finished, suppose we get down to business. What are you going to do about Mary Drake?”
Macey put the automatic away. He pulled at his underlip and stared at me thoughtfully. I could see he didn’t know what to make of me.
“We’re looking for her,” he said at last. “We’ll find her all in good time.”
“Luce McArthur disappeared a month ago,” I said. “You haven’t found her.”
Beyfield shifted restlessly, but Macey scowled at him. “A month’s not such a long time,” he said. “We’ll find ’em all before long.”
“Starkey could find them today.”
“What makes you think that?”
“It sticks out a mile,” I told him. “He’s kidnapped them to put Wolf and Esslinger on the spot.”
He shook his head. “You’re wrong.” He chewed the butt of his cigar reflectively and added: “Starkey wouldn’t like that line from you.”
“He’s going to get it all the same,” I said, “unless you can suggest something better.”
“Me?” He looked almost hurt. “We’re working on it, but we don’t know nothing yet. These kids don’t amount to much. We’ll get around to ’em when we’re ready.”
“Dixon says they were murdered,” I said, watching him. “Mass murder doesn’t sound so good.”
“He’s crazy. Besides, he’s dead.”
“Dead?” I repeated, acting surprised. “What do you mean — dead?”
He nodded his head. “Yeah,” he said. “Like I said — dead. I’ve known him years. He was crazy, but I got used to him.”
“But I was talking to him yesterday,” I said, sitting forward in my chair.
“You know how it is. Here today, gone tomorrow. He had a seizure or something. The doctor said his heart had been bad for years. Went suddenly. They found him this morning.”
“Who found him?”
“We did, didn’t we, Beyfield?”
Beyfield grunted.
“They couldn’t open the office and we were passing.” Macey touched off more ash, sighed and wagged his head. “He was working late last night. Must have popped off around two o’clock. That’s what the croaker said. Well, we’ve all got to go.”
“Yeah,” I said, “that’s true.” I sat staring at the floor. I wanted to get rid of these guys so I could turn things over in my mind. “I’ve got things to do,” I went on after a long pause. “If there isn’t anything else...”
Macey got to his feet. “We just looked in,” he said. “We don’t like private dicks, so we thought we’d tell you. Kind of let you know how you stand.”
“Sure,” I said, not moving.
“The sensible thing for you to do would be to take the first train out. That’d be the sensible thing to do, wouldn’t it, Beyfield?”
Beyfield grunted.
“And another thing,” Macey said, at the door, “keep out of Starkey’s way. He doesn’t like private dicks either.”
“I’m seeing Starkey this afternoon,” I said, stubbing out my cigarette. “I want to tell him about the Federal Bureau of Investigation. It’s a swell story, and it’ll interest him.”
“He doesn’t like stories,” Macey said, his lower lip jutting. “I’d beat it if I were you. My department can’t give protection to private dicks. We’re too busy.”
Beyfield cleared his throat. “And a dummy like you’ll need plenty of protection if you stick around,” he told me in his basement voice. They went out and left me alone.
I wrote:
Dear Colonel Forsberg,
I saw Lewes Wolf yesterday. Briefly, the case boils down to this: Wolf, a retired industrial moneybag, for something better to do, plans to be elected mayor. The opposition consists of the city mortician, Max Esslinger, and a gambler called Rube Starkey. Esslinger seems to be the people’s choice, but Starkey has the support of the Chief of Police and probably the rest of the crackpots on the city’s pay roll. In any case, it looks like a snap for Starkey, as he’s going to strong-arm the polls when the election breaks.