I told him about Reg Phipps. “He’s young, but he’s got guts. Keep him on the job and you won’t go wrong,” I advised.
“He can stay,” he said. “But how about the woman?”
“I’ll get you someone,” I promised. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow.”
“Have you found anything yet?” he demanded.
That was something I didn’t want to talk about. “I’m working on it,” I said, and hurriedly hung up on him.
I was calling the Gazette office when Marian came back. She carried a bowl containing cracked ice and odds and ends that looked interesting.
I winked at her as Phipps came on the line. “It’s okay,” I told him. “Wolf’s got the Gazette and you’re in. We’ll be along tomorrow morning.”
He didn’t seem to believe it, but when I persuaded him I wasn’t kidding he sounded excited enough. I told him to take it easy and cut the connection.
“You shouldn’t be phoning,” Marian said severely.
I flopped back on the bed. “That’s my final rally before I croak,” I said feebly.
She made an ice bag with the cracked ice and a strip of flannel and put it on my head. It felt swell.
“Isn’t that better?” she asked, sitting on the bed beside me.
I took her hand. “Terrific. I wouldn’t mind having a tap like this every day if I had a nurse as nice as you.”
She took her hand away and tried to look severe. “You can’t be as bad as you make out,” she said, moving away a foot. “You’ll be making passes soon.”
“Give me a couple of hours and you’ll be surprised what I will do,” I kidded, then I went on: “How’s the uplift and pant business?”
Although her face clouded she forced a smile. “I’m getting discouraged,” she confided. “If something doesn’t happen soon I’ll be on the bread-line. Cranville isn’t any good for the stuff I’m peddling.”
I regarded her thoughtfully. She wasn’t as good as Betty Grable or Rita Hayworth or Ginger Rogers, but she wasn’t bad. I could imagine Reg Phipps going for her in a big way.
“Can you use a typewriter and do shorthand?” I asked.
She looked puzzled, but said she could.
“There’s a job going on the Cranville Gazette: If you want a change from selling, you can have it.”
“You mean that?” There was eagerness in her voice.
“Sure, if you want it.”
“Would it pay steady money? I’m getting tired of wondering when next I’m going to eat.”
I looked sharply at her. “As bad as that?”
She took the ice bag away and changed the ice. “As bad as that,” she repeated seriously.
“Well, you’re hired. Send your samples back and tell your boss to go bowl a hoop,” I said, patting her hand. “Report to the Gazette tomorrow and tell Reg Phipps — he’s the editor — that you’re his new secretary. Tell him I said so.”
She looked doubtful. “You’re sure it’s all right? Perhaps he won’t like me.”
“Phipps?” I laughed. “You ought to see who he’s got now. He’ll be all over you.”
“I can’t say how grateful—” she began, but I stopped her.
“The job isn’t all that good,” I said. “Maybe you won’t like it. Maybe we’ll curl up before we start, but if you want to take the chance, it’s yours.”
“I’ll take the chance,” she said.
“Then that’s settled.”
She glanced at her watch. “Now don’t think I’m ungrateful if I leave you, but I promised to go out with Ted Esslinger and I’ve got to change.”
“Esslinger?” I raised my eyebrows. “He’s a fast worker, isn’t he? He only met you last night.”
She blushed. “Well, you know how it is. I hadn’t anything to do and he phoned—”
“I was only kidding,” I said, not wanting to embarrass her. “And he’s a nice kid. Hope you have a good time.”
“Now don’t be doing anything you shouldn’t. With a head like that you might have concussion.” She moved to the door. “Sure there’s nothing I can get you before I go?”
I said, “No,” and added: “If Esslinger arrives before you’re dressed, shoo him in here. I’ll keep him company until you’re ready.”
She nodded, said she hoped I’d be better in the morning, and thanked me again for the job.
After she had gone I lit another cigarette and thought about her. She was a good kid and I was glad to give her a break. From her my thoughts drifted to Audrey Sheridan. Now, she was a surprise. I hadn’t expected to find quite such an independent, smart beauty in a dump like Cranville. I wondered where she got her money from. If what I’d heard was right her detective agency was a flop, but the appearance of the place and her apartment showed she must have money. I wondered if her old man had left her anything, and decided he must have.
The way she had stood up to Starkey showed she had plenty of guts. That’s one thing I liked in a woman. She was a beauty too. I almost regretted I was working in the opposite camp. It might be plenty of fun to work with her. I wondered how Colonel Forsberg would react if I suggested he hire her as an International Investigations operative. He’d probably have a stroke.
I was just beginning to think of the best way to get even with Starkey when Ted Esslinger put his head round the door.
“Come in,” I said, sitting up and balancing the ice bag skillfully on my head.
“Gee!” he exclaimed, staring at me. “What a wreck you look!”
“Sit down,” I said, jerking my thumb to a chair near the bed. “Never mind how I look. I want to talk to you.”
He sat down and continued to stare at me with a worried expression on his face. “What happened?”
“I fell over a heap of feathers,” I said shortly. “Any news of Mary Drake?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. There’s trouble in town. A mob went clown to police headquarters and there was some shooting.”
“Shooting?” It was my turn to stare at him. “Anyone hurt?”
“No... the police fired over their heads. It scared them and they ran away. You know, Mr. Spewack, if this goes on much longer there’ll be bad trouble in Cranville.”
“As far as I’m concerned,” I said grimly, “that’s what I hope will happen. With the town out of hand, Macey’ll have to do something.”
He looked at me curiously. “What can he do that you can’t?”
I grinned. “Plenty, but never mind that. Who’s burying Dixon?”
“Dixon?”
“Yeah. Is your father burying him?”
“No — the city authorities are handling the funeral. Father supplied the coffin, if that’s what you mean, but the authorities—”
“What I want to know is this,” I said patiently. “First, where is Dixon’s body? Second, who is putting him in the coffin?”
“He’s at the city morgue,” Ted said, looking bewildered. “The coffin was delivered there this morning. The morgue attendants will put the body in the coffin, and then it will be taken to father’s funeral parlour. The funeral will be on the following day.”
“So no one will see the body except the morgue attendants?”
“I suppose not,” he returned, his bewilderment growing. “But what’s the idea?”
“Never mind the idea,” I said. “I’m asking the questions. One more thing. What made you suspect the Street-Camera was connected with the kidnapping?”
“Why, I told you. Luce McArthur was photographed on the street and showed me the ticket—”
“I know that, but it isn’t enough to tic it to the kidnapping. It’s too good a guess.” I gave him a hard look. “You know something.”
He looked confused, started to say I was wrong, but petered out.