a hurry.
The clerk gave me a stony stare and went away like a centenarian climbing a steep flight of
stairs.
Bradley lit his pipe and stared down at his ink-stained fingers. He breathed gently.
Still sticking your nose into the Crosbys affairs? he asked, without looking at me.
Still doing it, I said shortly.
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He shook his head.
You young and ambitious guys never learn, do you? I heard MacGraw and Hartsell called
on you the other night.
They did. Maureen Crosby showed up and rescued me. How do you like that?
He gave a little grin.
Idve liked to have been there. Was she the one who hit MacGraw?
Yeah.
Quite a girl.
I hear there was a shindig up at Salzers place, I said, watching him. Looks as if your
Sports funds going to suffer.
Id cry about that. I dont have to worry about sport at my age.
We brooded over each other for a minute or so, then I said, Anyone report a girl named
Gurney missing? She was another of Salzers nurses.
He pulled at his thick nose, shook his head.
Nope. Another of Salzers nurses, did you say?
Yeah. Nice girclass="underline" got a good body, but maybe youre a mite old to bother about bodies.
Bradley said he was a little old for that kind of thing, but he was staring thoughtfully at me
now.
She wouldnt be any good to you, anyway; shes dead, I said.
Are you trying to tell me something or are you just being tricky? he asked, an acid note in
his voice.
I heard Mrs. Salzer tried to kidnap her from her apartment. The girl fell down the fire
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escape and broke her neck. Mrs. S. planted her somewhere in the desert, probably near the
sanatorium.
Who told you?
An old lady fooling around with a crystal ball.
He scratched the side of his jaw with the end of his pipe and stared blankly at me.
Better tell Brandon. Thats a Homicide job.
This is a tip, brother, not evidence. Brandon likes facts, and I mightnt be ready to give
them to him. Im telling you because you may or may not steer the information into the
proper channels and leave me out of it.
Bradley sighed, realized his pipe had gone out and groped for matches.
You young fellas are too tricky, he said. All right, Ill give it to my carrier pigeon. How
much of it is true?
All of it. Why do you think Mrs. S. took poison?
The clerk came in and laid the folder on the desk. He went away still at the slow deliberate
pace. Probably his brain worked as fast as his legs.
Bradley untied the tapes and opened the file. We both stared at a half a dozen folded sheets
of blank paper for some seconds.
What the devil … Bradley began, blood rising to his face.
Take it easy, I said, reached out and poked at the sheets with my finger. Only blank
sheets: nothing else.
Bradley dug his thumb into the bell-push and kept it there.
Maybe the clerk scented trouble because he came in fast.
Whats this? Bradley said. What are you playing at?
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The clerk gaped at the blank sheets.
I dont know, sir, he said, changing colour. The file was fastened when I took it from
your out-tray.
Bradley breathed heavily, started to say something, changed his mind and waved a hand to
the door.
Get out, he said.
The clerk went.
There was a pause, then Bradley said, This could cost me my job. The cram must have
switched the papers.
You mean hes taken the contents of the file and left that as a dummy?
Bradley nodded.
Must have done. There was a photograph and a description and our progress report when I
gave it to him.
No copies?
He shook his head.
I thought for a moment.
The fella who asked for the file, I said, was he tall, dark, powerful; a sort of movie-star
type?
Bradley stared at him.
Yeah. Do you know him?
Ive seen him.
Where?
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Do you want those papers back?
Of course I do. What do you mean?
I stood up.
Give me until nine oclock tomorrow, I said. Ill either have them for you or the man
who took them. Im working on something, Bradley. Something I dont want Brandon mixed
up in. You dont have to report this until the morning, do you?
What are you talking about? Bradley demanded.
Ill have the papers or the man by tomorrow morning, if you sit tight and keep your
mouth shut, I said, and made for the door.
Hey! Come back! Bradley said, starting to his feet.
But I didnt go back. I ran down the four flights of stairs to the front entrance where
Kerman was waiting for me in the Buick.
V
There were four of us: Mike Finnegan, Kerman, myself and a worried looking little guy
wearing a black, greasy, slouch hat, no coat, a dirty shirt and soiled white ducks. We sat in
the back room of Delmonicos bar, a bottle of Scotch and four glasses on the table, and a lot
of tobacco smoke cluttering up the air.
The little guy in the greasy hat was Joe Dexter. He owned a haulage business, and ran
freight to the ships anchored in the harbour. Finnegan claimed he was a friend of his, but by
the way he was acting you wouldnt have known it.
I had put my proposition to him, and he was sitting staring at me as if he thought I was
crazy.
Sorry, mister, he said at last. I couldnt do it. Itd ruin my business.
Kerman was lolling in his chair, a cigarette hanging from his lips, his eyes closed. He
opened one eye as he said, Who cares about a business? You want to relax, brother. Therere
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more things in life than a business.
Dexter licked his lips, scowled at Kerman and squirmed in his chair. He turned pleadingly
to Mike.
I cant do it, he said; not a thing like this. The Dream Ship is one of my best customers.
She wont be for much longer, I said. Cash in while the goings good. Youll make a
hundred bucks on this deal.
A hundred bucks! Dexters face twisted into a sneer. Sherrill pays me more than that
every month: regular money. Im not doing it.
I motioned to Mike to take it easy. He was straining forward, making a growling noise in
his throat.
Look, I said to Dexter, all we want you to do is to deliver this case of supplies to the
ship tonight. Do that, and youll get a hundred. Whats scaring you?