I looked over at Alma Hunter, and her glance showed me that she understood.
‘I did have a dinner date,’ I said. ‘Something to talk over—’
Bertha Cool interrupted with calm finality. ‘You’re going to dinner with me, Donald. We have a case to talk over. You’re working for me. If Alma Hunter wants to hire my agency for any more work, I’ll be glad to accept the employment and assign you to the case. This business is finished. Come on.’
I took a card from my pocket, scribbled the telephone number of the boarding house where I was staying, and handed it to Alma Hunter.
‘She’s the boss,’ I said. ‘If you need me, you can ring me there.’
Bertha Cool said to Sandra Birks, ‘This Scotch and soda are part of the expenses. I’ll leave word at the desk that you’ll settle up. Come on, Donald.’
Dr. Holoman ran out into the corridor just ahead of us. He tugged gently at Bleatie’s sleeve and said in a low voice, ‘You’ll start that hemorrhage again. Come back here.’
Bleatie shook him off, pounded on the door. ‘Open up, Morgan, you fool,’ he said. ‘I have something that’s going to help you win your case. I’ve been protecting you all the way through.’
Dr. Holoman turned quickly away. Mrs. Cool, marching toward the elevator, almost ran him down.
He grabbed her arm desperately and said, ‘Look here, you can do something with him. He’ll bring on a hemorrhage. Won’t you try getting him back into the room?’
Mrs. Cool said ‘No’ to him, and then to me, ‘Come on, Donald,’ and led the way down the corridor.
When we were on the sidewalk, I said, ‘Is this new case something I’m supposed to start on tonight?’
‘What case?’
‘The one you wanted to discuss at dinner.’
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘there isn’t any case, and there won’t be any dinner.’
When she saw the expression on my face, she went on, ‘I saw you were falling for that Hunter girl. I don’t like it. She’s mixed in a case. We’ve worked on that case. Our job’s finished. Forget her. And, by the way, Donald, you might signal a cab for me. Get it over here by the fireplug where he can pull in to the curb, because I’m not built to go out into traffic and climb aboard a cab.’
I walked out to the curb with her and signaled a cruising cab. He took a look at Bertha Cool’s build and didn’t like the idea of trying to load her, away from the curb, any more than she did. He switched on his lights, pulled in next to the fireplug. I assisted her in, and raised my hat.
‘But you’re coming, Donald,’ she said.
‘No, I’ve got other places to go.’
‘Where?’
‘Back to ask Alma Hunter for a dinner date,’ I said.
Her eyes locked with mine. ‘I’m afraid,’ she said, ‘you don’t take kindly to suggestion, Donald.’ And her voice was the voice of an indulgent mother, censuring a child for a minor misdemeanor.
‘I don’t,’ I said.
She settled back against the cushions. ‘Pull down that jump seat, Donald,’ she said, ‘so I can put my feet on it, and don’t be so God damn serious about it. Good night.’
I raised my hat a good ten inches from my head as the taxicab whisked her out into traffic. Then I turned back toward the hotel and bumped into a man who was standing just behind me.
‘Sorry,’ I said.’
‘What’s the hurry?’ he asked.
‘Nothing you’d understand,’ I said, and tried to push past him. Another man who had been standing a step behind the first one came up to block my progress. ‘Take it easy, Pint-Size,’ he said.
‘Say, what is this?’ I asked.
‘The chief wants to see you,’ one of the men said.
‘Well, the chief has nothing on me.’
The first man was tall and slender with a hawk nose and hard eyes. The other had big shoulders, slim hips, and a bull neck. His nose looked as though it had been pushed all over his face, and his right ear had a tendency to cauliflower. He had the gift of gab, and evidently liked to hear his own voice.
‘Well, well, well,’ he said. ‘Our friend is pulling the old crook stall. The chief has nothing on me — how about it, buddy? Want to talk with the chief, or shall we tell the chief that you don’t care about co-operating?’
‘Co-operating with what?’ I asked.
‘Answering questions.’
‘About what?’
‘About Morgan Birks.’
I glanced from one to the other, unostentatiously shifted my position so that I could look over toward the hotel. At any minute now Sandra Birks and her brother might come out. They’d figure I’d led them into a trap or had sold them out. I grinned up into the hard eyes of the tall man, and said, ‘Sure I’ll come.’
‘That’s better. We thought you would,’ the bruiser said, and looked anxiously down the street. A big sedan slid out of the stream of traffic, and the men pushed me across to it, one at each arm. They opened the door and popped me in, climbed in beside me, and the tall man said to the driver, ‘Okay, John. Let’s go.’
We went, but it wasn’t until the car reached the residential section that I began to be suspicious.
‘Say, what’s the big idea?’ I asked.
The one named Fred said, ‘Now listen, Pint-Size, we’re going to have to put a bandage over your eyes so you don’t see so much it wouldn’t be healthy. Now, if you’ll just—’
I swung at him. He took my blow on the chin without appearing to have noticed it. His hand whipped out a folded bandage, put it down over my eyes. I fought and tried to shout. Fingers closed over my hands, handcuffs snapped around my wrists. The car began a lurching series of turns, designed to make me lose all sense of direction.
After a while I felt the slow jolt as it ran up into a private driveway. I heard a garage door open and close. The bandage was taken off. I was in a garage. The outer door closed, and a side door opened onto a flight of stairs. We climbed the stairs to a hallway, past a kitchen, through a dining room, and into a living room.
I kept up the pretense.
‘What is this?’ I asked. ‘I thought you were going to take me to the station.’
‘What station?’
‘To see the chief.’
‘You’re going to see the chief.’
‘But he isn’t here?’
‘Oh yes. He lives here.’
‘You’re cops?’ I asked.
The men looked at me with exaggerated surprise. ‘Cops?’ they said. ‘Why, buddy, whatever gave you that idea? We never said we were cops. We simply said the chief wanted to see you. That’s a nickname we have for the big shot, you know.’
I figured there was no use in playing a part any more. I kept silent.
‘Have a chair,’ the thickset man said. ‘The chief will be in right away. He’ll ask you a few questions, then we’ll drive you back up town, and everything will be all hunky-dory.’
I sat down in the chair and waited. I heard quick, nervous steps in the corridor, and a fat individual, with blubbery lips and cheeks, who had perspiration smeared all over his forehead, came walking into the room with the quick, light step of a professional dancer. He was short, and he was pretty fat, but he stood straight as a ramrod, pushing his belly out in front of him; and his little short legs took quick, rapid-fire strides.
‘The chief,’ the tall man said.
The chief smiled and nodded, his bald head bobbing on his fat neck like a cork bobbing on water. ‘Who is he, Fred?’ he asked.
The man with the battered nose said, ‘He’s with a gal by the name of Cool who runs a detective agency. They were employed to serve summons on Morgan Birks in the divorce action. He was hanging around the Perkins Hotel.’
‘Oh, yes. Oh, yes,’ the chief said, rapidly, bobbing his head and smiling affably. ‘Yes, indeed. Pardon me for not recognizing you. And what’s your name?’