“Then what would Sylvia do?”
“Oh,” she said, “Sylvia would blame it all on me. She’d swear she’d pulled the wool over your eyes and everything was fine until you came to talk with me, and then I let the cat out of the bag. That’s all right; you couldn’t expect Sylvia to take any responsibility, not with it being one of her boyfriends.”
“How many does she have?”
“Two or three.”
“How many do you have?”
“None of your business.”
“A lot of things are going to be my business. How many do you have?”
She looked at me and said, “None. Not in the way that you mean.”
I said, “That’s the answer that I expected.”
“It happens to be true.”
“I think it is,” I told her and got up from the chair. “Can you tell me why Sylvia happened to pick on you to back up her story?”
“Because we’re friends.”
“Any other reason?”
“And I was available.”
“Meaning what?”
“That I happened to be taking a week of my vacation. That meant no one could check on me and find I’d been at work when I said I’d been in Los Angeles.
“I guess Sylvia would rather have had one of her other friends. We’re not too close. But the vacation business got me the two-fifty. Nice business, isn’t it? Once you can get it. Tell me, Donald, am I in bad?”
“Not with me.”
“With anyone?”
“Not yet.”
“But I shouldn’t stick with the story?”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Where are you going now?”
“To work.”
“Can’t I fix you a cup of coffee?”
I shook my head.
“And you’re not going to tell Sylvia I spilled the beans?”
“No.”
“What do I tell her?”
“Tell her I showed up and asked you questions.”
“And that’s all?”
“That’s all.”
She said, “You’re letting me off pretty easy, aren’t you, Donald?”
“I’m trying to.”
She said, “Thanks. I’ll remember it.”
I closed the door, walked down the two flights of steps, and went to police headquarters.
I picked a man who looked as though he might be able to do me some good, got acquainted, showed him my credentials, said, “I want information. It’s information that’s a matter of public record but I want to get it fast. I’m going to need a little help. I’m willing to pay for it.”
I took out a ten-dollar bill.
“What’s the information?”
“I want to get a list of hit-and-run driving accidents on last Tuesday night.”
“Just hit-and-run?”
“I’d like the whole crime list — but hit-and-run particularly.”
“Can you give me the location?”
“Just anywhere around this part of the country.”
He said, “Why the hit-and-run? You got a hunch?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t a thing that will be of any help to you. I don’t even know it’s hit-and-run, but judging from the type of man I’m dealing with I think it might be hit-and-run. That looks like the most obvious explanation.”
“Explanation for what?”
“Explanation for why I gave you ten bucks to dig up the information for me.”
He said, “Sit right here, buddy. I’ll be back.”
I sat there and cussed myself for having associated with Bertha so long I was picking up her ways. Fifty dollars would have done the job. Ten bucks wasn’t enough. However, I’d heard Bertha scream so much about expenses that I’d unconsciously begun to start economizing. I decided in the future to play things my way. A cop who is willing to take anything on the side is apt to regard ten dollars the same way a bellboy looks at a tencent tip.
My man was back, however, in about ten minutes with the information I wanted.
“Two cases are the only ones you could be interested in, buddy. A man was hit at Post and Polk by a car driven by a young fellow who was probably drunk. A jane was sitting next to the driver, and, according to spectators, had amalgamated herself pretty thoroughly with him. She was crawling all over him. He was driving pretty fast. He hit this pedestrian, broke a hip, an ankle, and a shoulder, knocked the guy over to the curb, slowed for a stop, then evidently remembered how many drinks he’d had and went away from there fast. He got a break. No one seems to have taken his license number. It happened pretty fast, you know. A car behind him, halfway down the block, saw the whole thing and took after the hit-and-run. He had good ideas but his execution wasn’t so hot.
“Another car was just pulling out from the curb. They tangled. There was a smashing of fenders and cracking of glass. The road was blocked, no other cars could get through.”
“Any physical clues?” I asked.
“I told you the guy was lucky. The second accident took place right close to where the pedestrian had been hit. We’ve got quite a few assorted pieces of glass and some bits from a broken grill. So far, the assorted junk all came from one or the other of the cars that were in the collision. The car that hit the pedestrian doesn’t seem to have shed anything. If it did, it was mixed up with other stuff.”
I nodded. “What was the other case?”
“The other case I don’t think you’re going to be interested in. A man was driving a car and was pretty drunk. He’s out on bail.”
I got up and said, “Well, I guess that does it.”
He grinned at me and said, “The hell it does.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You’ve got a date with the man who’s working on the case.”
“When?”
“Now.”
I said, “I don’t know a thing. I’m here to get information. I—”
He said, “You tell it to the lieutenant.”
“And furthermore,” I went on, “if I had any information I wouldn’t give it to the lieutenant or anybody else. I’m protecting a client.”
“That’s what you think.”
I said, “When I protect a client I go all the way.”
“You’ve gone all the way now, buddy. You’ve gone from Los Angeles to San Francisco. Try and protect a Los Angeles client up here and see where it gets you.”
I said, “Try and beat information out of me and see where it gets you.”
“We won’t beat it out of you,” he said, grinning. “We just shake it out of you.”
He put a hand on my shoulder, a hand that was big as a ham, with strong fingers that slid down my arm until they took a grip on my elbow. “Right this way,” he said.
Chapter Seven
Lieutenant Sheldon was a tall, slender individual who didn’t look like a cop at all. He was wearing plain clothes and he sat behind a desk, assuming the attitude of a fatherconfessor. He stood up, shook hands, and said, “I’m very glad to meet you, Donald. Anything we can do for you up here we’ll be only too glad to do.”
“Thanks.”
“We like to help the visiting firemen in every way we can.”
“I’m sure I appreciate it.”
“In return we expect a reasonable amount of co-operation.”
“Sure.”
“You’re interested in hit-and-run cases on Tuesday night?”
“Not exclusively. I was interested in the whole crime blotter, but I was giving special attention to hit-and-run.”
“I know, I know,” he said. “You wanted the whole thing. I’ve had it all typed out for you, Lam. Here it is.”
He handed me a three-page list of crimes that included one case of molestation, three stickups, five burglaries, three driving while intoxicated. The list went on with solicitation, prostitution, gambling, and a charge of obtaining money under false pretenses.