I put a dime in the phone and dialed the eighth precinct. When the tired sergeant’s voice answered, I said, “There was a stickup at Kelly’s Liquor Store on Grand and Laclede about two hours ago.”
“What’s your name, Mister?”
“Right?”
“I can’t give out police infor—”
“You want to know something about it or not?”
“Go ahead, sir. Where you at now?”
“You got a call about the holdup?”
“OK, Mister, so we got a call. Usual thing. Look, you give me your name and address, and—”
“Did you get a call since then?”
“I can’t give out police information, sir.”
“OK, I’ll give you some. Almost an hour ago I told Kelly the name of the guy who stuck him up.”
“Now, ain’t that nice. You didn’t bother to call us.”
“Did Kelly call in again?”
The police sergeant was quiet for a moment. I heard some muffled voices. Then he said, “What was the guy’s name, Mister?”
“Then Kelly didn’t call?”
“What was the guy’s name?”
“Kelly had some guys try to knife me ten minutes ago! Look, officer, my name is—”
A hand reached over my shoulder and pushed down the phone hook, and a voice said, “Pussycat.” The tip of a knife was tickling my neck just under my right earlobe.
I turned slowly. Behind the big kid were his two buddies, standing side by side and staring back at the customers in the bar, waiting to see who’d be first to come over and tell them to get out. Nobody moved.
“Come on, Pussycat,” said the big guy. “Kelly wants to see you.”
They had me right in front of a bunch of people, so it wouldn’t do any good even to make noise. They sat me in the back seat of the car, one of them on each side; of me while the third one drove.
“Man, that pussycat’s a hero,” the driver said. The other two laughed.
I said to the big kid, “Look, you’re just getting in deeper, letting Kelly use you like that. He makes most of the loot while you guys take all the chances.”
The big kid said, “Pussycat’s a real good hero.”
“He’ll turn Sammy over to the police. When the chips are down, he’ll—”
“Why, Pussycat?”
I swallowed. “I told them that I told Kelly who robbed the store, but Kelly didn’t call in. They’ll wonder why.”
“Sligo,” the big kid hissed at the driver. “You put us off in the alley back of Kelly’s, then go get Sammy. You tell that boy to sneak in quiet, hear me?” He pushed his big fist against the side of my face and grinned. “Pussycat, you ain’t got much more chance.” It wasn’t cold, but I shivered anyhow.
From the back room, when the liquor store cleared of customers, the big kid called out to Kelly. The man grinned at me. “Always got to be some buttinski around,” he said. He gestured toward the two kids. “Just keep him back here for a while. Later on we’ll figure how to make him keep his fat mouth shut.”
“The cops been here?” said the big kid.
Kelly grinned. “Early. You know.”
Kelly went back out front to the store. The jingle bell on the door rang a moment later. Customers, buying whiskey. A guy getting a pack of cigarettes and making some remark about the hot weather. Quietly the back room door opened and Sammy came in, gave me a sober look and leaned against the partition wall between the store and the back room. The front door opened again. Two men, walking heavily.
“Hello, Kelly.”
“What’s up, Sergeant?”
“Who’s the name of the kid who did it, Kelly?” This from the other officer.
Kelly laughed nervously. “I wish I knew,” he said. “I’d nail the little—”
“A guy told you, didn’t he, Kelly?”
“Somebody’s telling you boys fairy tales.”
“OK,” said the sergeant. “You better close up and take a ride with us.”
“Hey, I’m running a business!”
“You’re withholding evidence. Come on.”
Kelly’s voice dropped. All of us in the back room strained to hear it. He said, “Listen, officers, it’s a tough neighborhood. Even if I did know.”
“Get your hat, Kelly.”
“OK,” Kelly whispered. “I was scared to tell, understand?” He was breathing quickly. We heard one of the cops scratch a match and light a cigarette. Kelly said something else, but outside a streetcar was going down Grand Avenue, and we only caught the last couple words: “...Maple and Twenty-Third. Look, you guys—”
“Hang around,” said the sergeant. The front door tinkled, Kelly waited a minute, and then he hurried to the back room.
“Now, look, kids.” He was already putting on a paternal grin. “I had to tell them cops about Sammy, but nobody else! If this character...” He saw Sammy then. His mouth hung open.
“Get him!” Sammy yelled when Kelly dashed back toward the partition door. The big kid got Kelly by the back of his collar. I saw two knives slashing through the air and, with all of them screaming and stabbing, I leaped for the alley door, kicked Sligo in the leg before he knew what was happening, and ran yelling around the side of the building.
The two cops were just starting their car. They jumped out and ran at me, but I shouted, “I’m the guy who called! They’re all in there now!”
“Hey, you stop!” roared one of the cops. “Hey!”
I was halfway across Grand Avenue, ducking through traffic, with drivers honking and cursing at me, so I didn’t look back until I got to the sidewalk. One of the cops was running around back, the other one rushing into the front of the liquor store. The cop inside fired his gun at the floor, hollered something, and the kids came out with their hands on the backs of their heads. Kelly didn’t come out. That was enough for me.
Please Find My Sisters!
by David H. Ross
The sister turned out to be a photographer’s model whose specialty was poses of a strictly “under-the-counter” variety. Under some pressure, Al Delaney took the job of finding her.
When the clatter of Elsie’s typewriter in the reception room ceased abruptly, Al Delaney heaved his six foot frame erect in his chair. A look of expectancy settled on Delaney’s face which was hard and tanned with white squint lines around the eyes.
Presently, Elsie’s smartly tailored figure slid around the door of his private office. Elsie had a flair for business in her dark, pretty head which never ceased to amaze Delaney.
He watched the relaxed, easy swing of her slim hips as she crossed the room. He grinned, whistling softly to tease her, and his gray, level eyes kindled appreciatively.
“Act your age, big boy. We’ve got a client in the other room,” Elsie snapped. She knew only too well what he was thinking.
“He or she?” Delaney asked hopefully.
“She,” Elsie snorted, glaring at him.
“What’s the pitch?” Delaney leaned back in his chair.
“She’s lost a sister in the big city. Wants you to find her.”
Delaney grunted and shrugged his shoulders. “What’s her name?”
“Blair. Eunice Blair. From Benson, Arizona.” Elsie wrinkled her nose at him and her luscious lips parted in a smile as she turned back to the door.
Delaney was stuffing some papers into his desk when the client entered. Without looking up, he said cheerfully: “Please sit down. Have a chair.”