“I’m sorry,” he said, but didn’t move.
A car, travelling at high speed, skidded into the entrance. I saw a look of relief on the attendant’s face. He said, “Okay,” and moved to one side.
The car came in the door, ran back the length of the garage, blocking the way out. I saw it was a police car. The door opened and John Harbet got out and came pounding over towards the car in a businesslike way. The attendant said, “I’ll get you a receipt,” and started to walk away.
Harbet came over to me and said, “So you have to stick your nose into this, eh?”
I said to the attendant, “You stick around. I’m going to want a witness to this.”
The attendant said, “I’m sorry. I can’t leave the front of the place — the cash register and everything.”
He walked away from us and didn’t look back.
Harbet walked over towards me, and I stepped back into a corner behind the car. “You asked for this,” he said.
I slid my right hand towards the left lapel of my coat.
He stopped coming towards me and said, “What are you reaching for?”
“A notebook,” I said, “and a fountain pen.”
“I told you about your health once,” he said. “You didn’t listen to me.”
“Ever hear about a law covering kidnapping?” I asked.
He laughed and said, “Sure, I’ve heard about it. I’ve heard about a lot of other laws, too. How would you like to get thrown in the can, wise guy?”
I said, “Throw me in, and I’ll bounce right out, and when I do, you know what will happen to you.”
He said, “Oh, you think you’ll bounce right out, do your?”
“I know it,” I said. “Don’t think I came into your territory without making plans in advance.”
He kept sizing me up and sliding his hand over towards his right hip. He said, “In the first place, I think that’s a stolen car. In the second place, a man was killed on the highway a couple of nights ago by a hit-and-run driver. I think this is the car that hit him.”
“Try again,” I. said.
“A man about your build has been annoying women on the streets.”
He kept edging closer. Suddenly he jerked out his gun. I took my hand away from the lapel of my coat. He laughed and said, “I’ll just take your rod so you won’t get into trouble with it.”
He moved up another step and patted the side of my coat, then he laughed and said, “Just running a blazer, eh?”
He spun me around, made certain I had no gun, put his own gun away, and grabbed me by the necktie. “Do you know what we do with wise guys in this city?” he asked.
“Put them on the Vice Squad,” I said, “and let them push people around, then something happens, and they get called up in front of the grand jury.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” he said. “I’m not getting called up in front of any grand jury.”
He pushed the heel of his right hand against my nose, holding my tie with his left hand. He said, “I have a witness who saw that hit-and-run car making a getaway. The description fits this car. What are you going to do about it?” He was holding his hand up against my face, pushing my neck back.
I said, “Get your hand out of my face.” My voice sounded thick and muffled.
He laughed and pushed a little harder.
I swung my right. My arms were a good two inches shorter than his. The swing missed by just that much. He let go of my tie then, and cuffed me with his left. I tried to dodge, and he cuffed me with his right. Then he grabbed me by the coat collar and spun me around.
He said, “Get in that car and drive ahead of me to the police station. Don’t try to make any funny moves, or I’ll drill you. You’re under arrest.”
I said, “All right. We’ll go to headquarters. Now listen to this. The hotel porter in Oakview saw you carrying me down the corridor. Don’t think I’m so dumb. Before I left Oakview, I called the Federal Bureau of Investigation. They took fingerprints from the inside of my doorknob and the steering-wheel of the car. They don’t know yet who those prints belong to. I can tell them.”
I saw that I’d jolted him. He stood stock-still. He let go of my collar, and his eyes bored into mine. “You run a damn good bluff,” he said. “You made a nice one about having a gun. You’re lucky it didn’t get you killed.”
I said, “That wasn’t a bluff. That was a psychological experiment. I thought you were yellow. I wanted to find out. You are.”
His face darkened, and he doubled his fist, but thought better of it as I stood my ground. He said, “I’m going to give you one more chance. You’re out of your jurisdiction. Keep on your own dunghill and you won’t have any trouble. Start messing around in Santa Carlotta and you’ll be just a number in a great big house doing a longtime stretch.”
I said, “Not by the time I get done telling my story, I won’t.”
He shoved me into the agency car. “Go on, wise guy,” he said. “Get started. Right back towards Los Angeles. The next time you come within the city limits, I’ll throw the book at you. Savvy?”
“All done?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, and turned around to swagger back to the police car. He backed out, swung the car in a turn in the middle of the block when he hit the street, and drove away.
I blew blood out of my nose on to my handkerchief, drove up even with the office where the attendant was making a great show of being busy. I adjusted my tie and said, “On second thought, I think I’ll take that receipt.”
He looked nervous. “You won’t need a receipt,” he said. “It’s all right.”
“I want one.”
He hesitated a moment, then scribbled out a receipt. I looked at it, folded it, put it in my pocket. “Thanks,” I said. “I just wanted your signature. You may hear from me some day. That’s all.”
I got back in the car and rattled out of town, taking good care to keep the speedometer needle under fifteen miles an hour until after I’d passed the city limits.
Bertha Cool was in the office when I reached Los Angeles. She said, “Well for Pete’s sake, where have you been?”
“Working.”
“Don’t ever do that again.”
“What?”
“Get away where I can’t reach you.”
“I was busy. I didn’t want to be reached. What’s the matter?”
She said, “Hell’s breaking loose, and I don’t know how to stop it. What’s happened to your nose? It’s swollen.”
I said, “A guy pushed it.”
She said, “I’ve been talking with Marian.”
“Well?”
“She’s been having daily conferences with the deputy district attorney.”
“They haven’t said anything about her in the papers yet.”
“No, they’re not ready for that — but I think they’re getting ready for it.”
“What’s new?”
“They’ve been talking with her until now she’s absolutely convinced that she saw this man coming out of Evaline Harris’s apartment.”
“Well, he did come out of it, didn’t he?” I asked.
“There you go, sticking up for her. You know as well as I do, Donald, that she didn’t see him come out of that apartment. She saw him in the corridor. She doesn’t know what apartment he came out of.”
“She does now, doesn’t she?”
Bertha Cool said, “Yes. She thinks she does.”
“Is that all?” I asked.
“No. While Marian was talking with the deputy district attorney, a long-distance telephone call came through. It was police headquarters at Santa Carlotta. Evidently they said they thought the case might have a local angle. The D.A. arranged for a conference.”
I lit a cigarette and Bertha Cool sat behind the desk looking at me. She said, “You know what that means, Donald. They’re getting ready to push our man out in front. Marian will identify him, and then the fat’s in the fire. It’s too late to do a damn thing. We’ve got to move fast.”