She got up slowly, keeping her balance with difficulty and swayed across the room to a writing table. She fumbled through a stack of papers and came back with a neat card. There was a telephone number typed on the card.
“Telephone number,” she mumbled. “But you can’t use it. Velma says never use it. Just for emergency.” She giggled. “Like running out of brandy.”
Larry took the card from her shaking fingers and put it in his watch pocket. She made noises in her throat and tried to get it back, but he grabbed her bony wrists and forced her back into the chair.
“It’s all right,” he said.
“Can’t use the phone number,” she cried. She started to sob. It made her jewelry shake and tinkle.
He left her there, crying, shoulders shaking, and the tears making little muddy rivulets through her make-up. And the sound of her silver jewelry was a discordant tinkle in the large, dimly-lighted room.
Chapter IX
Downstairs he walked West, trying to decide what was going to happen next.
That was decided for him.
Out of the shadows of the dark street two men emerged. His arms were caught and pinioned before he could make a move. The men were large, powerful and business-like. They seemed to know just what they were doing.
Larry struggled, but it was useless. He was half-carried, half-dragged toward an alley.
“Too bad,” the man on his right said. “A guy gets a few drinks and his friends got to suffer with him.”
“Yeah!” the voice came from his left. “Terrible thing this drinking.”
In the darkness of the alley his coat was whipped off his shoulders and secured from behind, pinioning his arms. One of the men stood in front of him, a bulky shadow, with just a pale blur of a face.
“Now listen, chum,” he said, “this is good advice I’m goin’ to give. Go home. Stop asking questions. Stop nosing around. Lay off.”
Larry didn’t see him raise his arm, but a fist like a mallet suddenly crashed into his jaw. His head rolled and a lot of lights started snapping on and off inside his head.
“Get it!” the voice said. “Go home!”
The fist landed again. More lights started flickering. There was a taste of rusty iron and salt in his mouth.
“Stop asking questions!”
The fist again. And more lights. He felt he could spit out teeth if he tried.
“Stop nosing around!”
This time the fist didn’t turn on any more lights. It started to put them out. And that made it get darker.
“Lay off!”
The fist was an old friend by now. It put out all the lights and made everything soft and dark. He felt it land a few more times and he had a vague annoyance at all that wasted effort. Didn’t the guy know the lights were out?
Everything was black...
A light rain was falling when he came to. He was lying in the alley. His head ached and it was minutes before he could sit up and make his thoughts focus. He took out a handkerchief and let the rain wet it. Then he swabbed his face. He lit a match and looked at his watch. Two o’clock. He had been lying here a couple of hours anyway.
He got to his feet slowly, and stood there several minutes, waiting for the hammers in his head to stop pounding. He felt sick and weak.
He felt in his watch pocket and that made him feel a little better. The card with the telephone number was still there.
He walked through the rain toward the Lake Shore Drive. That was his best chance of getting a cab. And all he could think of now was getting home.
It was a two block walk and it took him fifteen minutes. His legs were weak and he had to stop every few feet to rest. When he reached the Drive he had to wait fifteen minutes before a cab stopped.
He climbed into the back seat and gave the driver his address.
Fran met him at the door. Her face was drawn with anxiety. When she saw him her lips began to tremble. She came to him, put her hand against his swollen lips.
“Oh, darling,” she murmured. She began to cry.
He tried to grin, for her sake, but it wasn’t very successful.
“I’m all right.” His voice sounded thick and muffled.
She put her arm around him, helped him into the living room.
There were two cups of coffee on the low table before the fire place. Larry saw a pair of gray-clad legs, heavy black shoes extending from one of the chairs. He stopped and shook his head.
Meyers stood up slowly. The faint grin faded from his solid gray face when he saw Larry’s condition. He tossed his cigarette into the fireplace and pursed his lips.
“Somebody did a good job,” he commented.
“Yeah,” Larry said. With Fran helping him he made his way to a chair and sat down.
“You’re bleeding,” Fran said. Her voice was hushed but she had stopped crying.
“Get me a cup of coffee, please,” he said. He managed another grin. “I look a lot worse than I am.”
She hurried out of the room and he sank back in the chair and let his eyes close.
“Who did it?” Meyers asked.
“I don’t know. Couple of guys. They seemed to know their job.”
Meyers chuckled sympathetically. “That’s for sure. Get a look at ’em?”
Larry opened one eye and squinted at him. “Ever try and look at a guy when he’s beating you over the head with a fire plug?”
Meyers shook his head. “But I’m no tough guy,” he said sarcastically. “I’m just a dumb cop. We leave these heroic jobs to guys like you.”
“Okay. I’m a sucker.” He opened his other eye and looked at Meyers steadily. “But I’ve found out more than the police force has on this case.”
Meyers digested this without expression. He settled back in the chair and lit a cigarette. His gray face was blank.
“So? What have you found out?”
Fran came back then with his coffee. He took the cup and patted her hand gratefully. “Honey, better get some sleep. I’ve got to talk to Meyers.”
He didn’t want her around. He didn’t want her to know anything. It wasn’t safe to know anything. And he wanted her safe.
She looked doubtful, but she said, “All right, darling.”
She left the room with light quick steps. Meyers looked after her. “Nice kid. We had quite a talk.”
“What are you here for?” Larry asked.
“Let’s pretend I’m still a cop,” Meyers said dryly. “I’ll ask the questions. What did you find out?”
Larry told him everything that had happened. But he didn’t mention the telephone number Mabel had given him. He wanted to chase that down himself. He had reached the point where he didn’t trust anyone.
Meyers frowned at the floor and lit another cigarette with a gesture of irritation. “So they bought this gal Corinne off. That doesn’t mean much. But it could. And then this Velma Dare. The gal you woke up in bed with. I can’t figure that angle.”
“Do you know anything about her. About Velma, I mean.”
Meyers shrugged. “A little. I know the name. I’ve heard things here and there.”
“What kind of things?”
“Nothing that helps any.” He got up and picked up his hat and walked to the door. “You’d better lay off now,” he said. “They know who you are. They know you’re nosing around. Next time they’ll do a permanent job on you.”
“Who is ‘they’?” Larry asked.
Meyers grinned sourly. “Who knows?”
Larry said slowly. “I think you do, Meyers.”
Meyers laughed and walked out the door...
He had showered and put some adhesive tape on his cut lips when the phone rang. He came out of the bathroom and looked at the ringing phone. His mouth felt dry. There was something insistent and ominous in the sound.