Duffy went over to the book and turned up Morgan Navigation Co. He dialled and waited. Then he said, “Mr. Morgan there?”
A pert voice said, “What’s it about?”
Duffy said curtly, “I’ll ask him to tell you, if he wants you to know.”
She connected him. Before she plugged, he heard her say, “Some day these sharp punks will cut themselves with their own wit.”
Duffy grinned. Morgan’s voice came over. “Yes?”
Duffy said, “Listen, Morgan. Your mob let you down.”
Morgan said very evenly, “You had the breaks that time, Duffy, but watch out.”
“Gleason’s out of the bidding,” Duffy said, looking with blank eyes at the wall in front of him. “That little book’s going to cost you fifty grand.”
He heard Morgan draw his breath in, then he said, “My boys are collecting that free of charge. I’ve warned you. They’re coming gunning for you.”
Duffy said, “On second thoughts, I’ll turn the book over to the State.”
“I shouldn’t do that.” Morgan said it just a little too quickly. There was no punch in the threat.
“I’m turning it over, just the same. Then we’ll see what happens. I got twenty-five grand out of Gleason, so I should worry.”
“Wait.” Morgan raised his voice. “I’ll give you five grand.”
Duffy said, “Make it twenty-five, and it’s yours.”
“Okay,” Morgan’s voice was very soft. “You bring the book over, and I’ll have the money here.”
“I’m not that screwy,” Duffy said. “Turn it over in the open. I’ll be in the lobby of the Belmont Plaza at six o’clock tonight. We’ll make the exchange.”
There was a short pause, then Morgan said, “Okay,” and hung up.
Gilroy had been listening, his eyes on Duffy’s back. He said, “You’re going to have a sweet time bringing that dough home.”
Duffy picked up his hat. “Come on,” he said, “let’s go.”
They followed him over to the garage. Duffy said to Schultz, “Can you handle this bus?”
Schultz nodded. “You bet,” he said, faintly surprised.
“Well, drive it then. Gilroy and me want to talk.”
Gilroy and Duffy got in at the back and Schultz climbed in under the wheel. “Where to?” Schultz asked, jerking the starter.
Duffy gave him the address of his bank, and Schultz nosed the car carefully down the narrow alley into the main street.
Duffy said to Gilroy, “We’ll double-cross this louse right away. I’m turning the list over to English and he can get busy on it. It’s too big for us to handle Next, we give the copy to Morgan and get his dough. Then we fix Annabel, and after that we’ll call round on Morgan’s office and collect any evidence to run him out. If we don’t turn any up, we’ll have to run him out on our own.”
Gilroy leant back against the cushions and closed his eyes. He said sleepily, “You got quite a programme, ain’t you?”
Duffy said, “I want to get shot of this, then you boys can spend what you’ve earned.”
Schultz ran the car to the kerb and Duffy went into the bank. The other two stayed in the car, waiting. When Duffy came out he glanced up and down the street, then stepped hastily into the car. Schultz pulled away at once.
Duffy gave English’s address. He said, “Make it fast.” Schultz glanced at him in the driving-mirror, nodded, and swung to the side streets.
Gilroy said, “Seems a shame to turn that list over to the cops.”
Duffy shrugged. “You ain’t thinking of handling a thing that big?” he asked.
Gilroy shook his head. “I don’t handle dope,” he said. “I just don’t like to give those punks a break.”
Duffy grinned. “It’ll wash up Morgan, so what the hell?”
English was surprised to see him. He took the book from Duffy, glanced at it, then said, “So this is the first step, eh?”
Duffy nodded. “You turn that over to the Narcotic Squad. It ain’t evidence, but it might stampede some of those hopheads Anyway, it’ll stop Morgan running the same game.”
English nodded. “Have you found Annabel yet?”
“It won’t be long.” Duffy went to the door. “I’ll get in touch pretty soon.”
Out in the street once more, he went over to the Buick. Gilroy said, “Ain’t it time to eat?”
Duffy climbed in. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ve got time on my hands till six.”
Schultz swung the car in a half-circle, reversed her back again, then, spinning the wheel hard round, he turned her completely, heading rapidly east.
CHAPTER XV
SHEP CAME IN JUST after five o’clock. Duffy was cleaning his Colt. Gilroy and Schultz sat in chairs, watching him.
Duffy looked up sharply and said, “Found her?”
Shep waddled in, sat down and blotted his face with his handkerchief. “Yeah,” he said. “Guess where?”
Duffy put his gun on the table. His mouth became a thin line. “Where?” he said.
Shep smiled happily; he said, “It’s rich. She’s gone hot pants for Morgan’s nance.”
Duffy’s eyebrows rose. “Clive?”
Shep nodded. “She’s over at the little rat’s apartment right now. He’s in bed, screaming hell, because someone trod on his pan.”
Duffy got to his feet. “We’ll go right over and pick her up,” he said, slipping the gun down his waist-band.
Gilroy said, “All of us?”
Duffy shook his head. “Suppose Shep and me go,” he said.
Shep said, “Sure.” He mumbled something to Gilroy and gave a loud tinny laugh.
Duffy said, “I’ll go on to the Belmont Plaza after. Suppose you two boys get down there and watch the lobby. We ain’t going to take any chances with Morgan.”
Gilroy nodded. “Okay,” he said.
Duffy and Shep went out and climbed in the Buick. Duffy took the wheel. As he pushed the Buick down the street, he said, “If that jane gets tough, knock her off.”
Shep nodded. “She’s a grand looker, ain’t she?” Then he said sadly, “It’s tough being fat.”
Duffy shot him a side-glance. “You don’t know when you’re getting the breaks,” he said shortly. “That jane’s poison.”
Shep gave him some directions, then said wistfully, “I guess it’d be good, going places with a honey like that.”
Duffy said nothing. “He drove fast. After a ten-minute run, he said, “This the street?”
Shep stuck his little head out of the window and peered.
“That’s right.”
Duffy drew into the kerb. They both got out. “What number did you say?”
Shep hunted in his pockets, found a scrap of paper, screwed up his eyes, then said, “1469.”
Duffy checked the house near him. “It’s on the other side farther down.”
Together they crossed the street and began walking casually down. Duffy said, “They’re both dangerous; you got to watch ’em, Shep.”
Shep grinned. “Me… I’m scared to hell… like hell,” he said.
1469 was a tall, gaunt apartment house. Duffy ran up the steps and checked the list of names. “Clive Wessen,” he said. He rang the next bell, waited until the latch gave, pushed open the door and walked in. Shep shuffled behind him. “Third floor,” Duffy said, keeping his voice down.
They climbed the stairs slowly. The place was clean and bright. Duffy said, “These punks live well, don’t they?”
Shep said nothing, he was saving his breath. On the third floor, Duffy took the Colt out; he held it loosely in his hand, hanging down by his side.
He nodded to a door at the far end of the passage. “There it is,” he said. “Can you open it?”
Shep said, “I can open any door. Watch me.” Moving very quietly, he went to the door, examined the lock, then turned his head and beamed. “It’s a cinch,” he said.