The Mammoth Book of Private Eye Stories
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
and you don't even show a little healthy curiosity? Don't be afraid of me, Pine. I haven't chewed off anybody's arm in over a week." "I obey the law," I said mildly. "Well, well," he said. He grinned suddenly, and after a moment I grinned back. Mine was no phonier than his. He snapped a thumb lightly against the point of his narrow chin a time or two while thinking a secret thought, then turned back to the body. He went through the pockets with the deft delicacy of a professional dip. The blood,
said. "I hope to tell you, you aren't. Listen, I can book you, brother!" "For what?" "Obstructing justice, resisting an officer, indecent exposure. What the hell do you care? I'm saying I can book you!" I didn't say anything. Some of the angry color faded slowly from his high cheeks. Finally he sighed heavily and picked up the necktie and gave it a savage jerk between his square hands and threw it down again. " N u t s , " he said pettishly. "I don't want to fight with you. I'm trying to do a
might have come here to hire me. It has happened, although not often enough. Maybe somebody didn't want him spilling any touchy secrets to me, and fixed him so he couldn't." "But you never saw him before?" "You're beginning to get the idea," I said. "Go ahead," he said bitterly. "Crack wise. Get out the office bottle and toss off three inches of Scotch without a chaser and spit in my eye. That's the way you private eyes do it on TV eight times a night." "I don't have an office bottle," I said.
sit up again. Clear?" He nodded. "You looking forward to trouble, Joe?" I shrugged. He said, "I'll go and eat." He went out, a stocky man of medium height with a flat and broken nose looking out of place in his thin face. STOLEN STAR 145 3 Slotkin wasn't at his office when I got there; I was handed a package by one of his young associates. I'd brought a small grip and I carried the money with m e when I went to eat. T h e afternoon Mirror-News informed me that there were no new developments
clean than the asphalt tile of the office. The door opened and the hand in my lap stirred. It was Doctor Graves, the young dentist from the office next door. He said, " H o w about some golf tomorrow afternoon?" "Maybe. I'll let you know tonight." "What's the matter?" he asked. "You look nervous." "I'm still not right. Had a concussion, you know. And a badly strained back." "Maybe we'd better forget the golf, huh? The back-" "I'll let you know tonight," I repeated. "How's everything otherwise?"