“That’s it, Karsh. I’ll give you five seconds to get this car moving. At the end of five seconds, you’ll get the sweetest slam in the eye any maggot’s ever had.”
“I’ll fix you,” Karsh said breathlessly. He started the car engine. “Don’t make any mistake about it! I’ll have your badge taken away!”
“If you listen hard enough, maggot, you’ll hear my knees knocking,” Jacobs said and grinned.
Ten minutes later, Karsh, carrying the brief-case, walked into Terrell’s office with Jacobs at his heels.
Terrell looked up from the mass of papers spread out over his desk. Jacobs pointed to the brief-case that Karsh was carrying and nodded his head. This signal went unseen by Karsh as Jacobs was behind him.
“Now listen, Chief,” Karsh said furiously, “this punk has no right to take me off a job. He threatened me! I’m going to report him...”
Jacobs laced his fingers together, lifted his arms and slammed his hands down on the back of Karsh’s neck. Karsh went down on hands and knees, dropping the brief-case. He thought the ceiling had fallen on him. He remained like that until Jacobs planted a solid kick on the seat of his shiny trousers. Karsh staggered to his feet and fell, groaning, into the nearest chair.
“You can’t hit a man like that,” Terrell said severely, although his eyes were twinkling.
“There was a wasp on his neck, Chief,” Jacobs said, looking sad. “I didn’t want the poor guy to get stung.”
“Is that right?” Terrell said. “For a moment, I thought you were playing rough with him.”
“Not me, Chief, you know me,” Jacobs said, smiling broadly.
Karsh snarled at him.
“I’ll fix you!” he quavered. “You just wait and see.”
“There’s that wasp again,” Terrell said. “Better kill it, Max. Look, it’s right on top of the poor guy’s head.”
As Jacobs, grinning, moved towards Karsh, Karsh scrambled out of the chair and ran across the room, setting his back against the wall.
“Don’t touch me!” he yelled frantically. “Leave me alone!”
Terrell looked at Jacobs, then at the brief-case. Jacobs picked up the case, opened it and poured its contents on to the desk.
At this moment the door opened and Beigler came in. At the sight of the money covering the desk, he paused.
“You been robbing a bank, Chief?” he said. “That looks a lot of dough to me.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Terrell said. “Let’s see just how much there is here.”
“Don’t touch it!” Karsh exclaimed. “That belongs to Hare! He told me to put it in a safe deposit.” Then seeing the three men were staring at him, he went on hurriedly, “It’s nothing to do with me! It’s Hare’s money! I was just...”
“Shut up!” Beigler snapped. “You want me to give you a poke in the eye?”
Karsh gulped. He was scared of Beigler. He stood, white and sweating, while Jacobs counted the money.
“Twenty thousand,” he said finally.
Terrell leaned back in his chair and regarded Karsh with cold, forbidding eyes.
“Who gave you this money?”
“I told you... Hare. He told me to put it in a safe deposit bank. I don’t know nothing about it!”
“Yeah? You know Hare hasn’t this kind of money. Where did he get it?”
“He didn’t tell me. Ask him! Don’t ask me!”
“I think the wasp’s worrying this punk again,” Jacobs said. “Okay for me to swat it?”
“Take him away,” Terrell said. “I don’t like seeing insects killed. You might tell the boys that Sammy Karsh is here. They’ll want to get rid of the wasp with you... you mustn’t be selfish, Max.”
Grinning Jacobs caught hold of Karsh and locking his arms behind him, he shoved him out of the office. Karsh yelled and struggled, but Jacobs handled him effortlessly. Finally Karsh’s yells died away and Terrell looked at Beigler.
“Now what are you going to do?” Beigler said. “That punk mightn’t sing.”
“I’m going to talk to Homer Hare,” Terrell said grimly and reached for the telephone.
As Val walked down Main Street, her mind busy, she became aware of hurrying footfalls behind her... the tap, tap, tap of high heels, and she glanced around. A girl was coming up behind her, and as Val looked around, the girl smiled hopefully.
“Oh, Mrs. Burnett...”
Val stopped and turned.
The girl was shabbily dressed. She wore a grubby white sweater, a skirt that had an oil stain on the front of it, and her shoes were run down. She was around twenty-three, a badly dyed blonde, unattractive and her complexion was bad.
“Oh, Mrs. Burnett, you don’t know me, but of course, I know, you,” the girl said. “I am Mary Sherrek. I know you have never heard of me, but I’m a representative of the Miami Sun. It’s not much of a paper, but I did so hope...” She paused and looked hopeless at Val in her neat dress, looking with envy at her perfect grooming. “I don’t suppose you want to talk to me but I just had to... well, I just had to speak to you.”
“That’s all right,” Val said. “What is it?”
“You really mean you don’t mind me speaking to you? That’s wonderful. You wouldn’t give me an interview, would you? I... I... well, I...” She stopped and looked uneasily at Val who waited. The girl finally went on, “About your husband... he disappeared, didn’t he? It would be wonderful for me if you could tell me something about him. You see, I’m not very good at this job and I think they are going to get rid of me. But if I could go back there and give them an exclusive interview with you... well, it would... you understand?”
While the girl was stammering this out, Val scarcely listened. Her sharp mind was busy. She suddenly saw how it could be possible for her to begin to find out the mystery behind Sue Parnell’s death. The idea that had flashed into her mind sent her blood racing excitedly through her body.
“Let’s go over there and have a coffee,” she said. She led the way across the street and into a cafeteria that was almost empty. She ordered two coffees while Mary Sherrek sat clutching her shabby bag, staring at Val with wide, expectant eyes.
“You really mean you will give me an interview, Mrs. Burnett?” she said. “It would save my life. Honest. They are ready to throw me out. If I...”
“How long have you been working for this newspaper?” Val asked.
Mary Sherrek looked startled.
“About six months. I got a diploma through a Correspondence College. But I don’t think I’m really much good. I just haven’t...”
“But have you a press card?”
“Oh yes. I couldn’t go around without a press card, but it doesn’t mean much. It just gets you into places.”
“Could I see it, please?”
“Of course.”
The girl took the Press card from her bag and offered it to Val who studied it for a brief moment. It merely stated that Mary Sherrek represented the Miami Sun, and she should be granted facilities to assist her in her work. There was a depressing photograph of the girl stuck on the card which was signed by Chief of Police Terrell.
Val put the card on the table.
“Do you want to go home, Mary?”
The girl’s eyes opened wide.
“I can’t go home. My folk live in New York. I just haven’t the money to get there. No, I can’t go home.”
“If you had the money, would you go?”
“Oh yes. I hate it here. Yes, I’d go, but Mrs. Burnett, I should be asking you the questions. You don’t want to be bothered with my troubles.”
“I want your press card,” Val said quietly. “I will give you two hundred dollars for it. With that money, you can get home. Will you sell me your press card?”
The girl stared at her as if she thought she had gone out of her mind.
“You can’t want my press card! But why? I don’t understand.”