I lay there, calling her some fancy names. It didn't get me anywhere. She was right about me doing it. I liked to push my nose into something that might scorch it. This business had a lot of angles that might prove interesting. I put the 'phone down and turned off the light. I could think a lot better in the dark.
I went through the business carefully. I'd got a few leads to follow up. First, I'd look into the stockholders of the Mackenzie Fabric Corporation. Then I might take a look at the firm and have a sniff round there. Lu Spencer wanted hunting up. Ackie was an all-right guy, and I guessed he was willing to help me if I didn't pull him into it. Then there was Blondie. Maybe I'd get a little fun with Blondie. I had a weakness for blondes, anyway. It looked on the face of it an attractive programme.
I let it go at that and went to sleep.
CHAPTER THREE
SOMEONE WOKE me up by punching the front-door bell. I love that. Some guy always wakes me up just when I'm getting friendly with my dream blonde. That dame certainly is a nice little twitchet.
I dragged myself out of bed and padded across the two rooms to the front door.
A special messenger was leaning up against the door, humming Cole Porter. He looked at me, then at the envelope he was holding.
“Nick Mason?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Let's have it, you mother's nightmare.”
He gave me the envelope and I signed. Then he stood there waiting to pick up something. He'd got a hope. If he thought I was giving him anything he was crazy. I only hoped he'd fall downstairs on his way out and break his neck. I started to shut the door.
“You won't get any place in that sleepin'-suit,” he said, and made a dash down the corridor. Maybe he thought I'd give him a poke in his puss.
I went back to the bedroom and took a look in the long glass. The kid was right. That sleeping-suit was terrible. I sat on the bed and ripped open the envelope. Five crisp thousand-dollar bills spilt on my knees. No letter—just the dough. I sat and looked at them for a few minutes. That's one thing I can always do—sit around, looking at money. Then I put the money back in the envelope and put the envelope on the table.
There was a catch in this, of course. I'd got to start right now and earn that dough. I wandered into the bathroom and took off the sleeping-suit. The cold prickle of the shower made me feel good. Once I got through with the wet part of getting up, I always tried my hand at singing. Maybe I wasn't so good, but I'd got a lot of power. I wrapped the towel round my waist and shaved, then I wandered back into the bedroom with the idea of having a drink to help me on the final task of dressing.
Two things struck me as soon as I entered the bedroom. There was a heavy smell of scent hanging around that certainly hadn't been there when I left the room, and the envelope had gone.
I moved quickly. Dropping the towel, I grabbed my dressing-gown and struggled into it, running into the sitting-room as I did so. The front door was ajar. I raced to the window and threw it up. The street was deserted. I thought I caught a glimpse of a yellow taxi flashing round the corner, but I wasn't sure. If it was a taxi, it was moving like hell.
I went back to the bedroom and stood sniffing. I'm not one of those guys who can classify a smell quickly, but I knew this stuff all right. It was the kind of scent hot mammas used to get the boys running in circles.
Right then, I was running in circles. I was as mad as a blind man at a strip tease. I went over to the telephone with the idea of getting the cops, then a thought struck me and I sat down to think about it.
Those dollar notes had looked mighty nice, and now some dame had nicked them. I was feeling mighty sore.
After a few quick drags from the rye I felt better, and I got myself dressed. All the time I wondered what the devil I was going to do. The sooner I started in on this the better. I locked up the apartment and went downstairs for my breakfast.
I ordered two lightly boiled eggs, toast and coffee. I was just getting down to serious eating when the guy who rented the apartment opposite walked in. This guy gave me a pain. There are some guys who just can't help giving anyone a pain. You don't know why... they try like hell to put themselves across, but they stick.
I tried to hide behind my newspaper, but I was too late. He came across with an odd expression on his face and sat down.
He said, trying to look shocked, “You didn't ought to have girls in your place, Mason; it gives the building a bad name.”
I said, “You're kiddin' yourself. The place had a bad name long before I moved in. Besides, I don't know what you're talking about. What's all this about dames?”
The waitress came up just then and took his order for tomato-juice and toast. When she had gone, he spread himself over the table. “I saw her when I was getting the paper,” he said. “She came out fast, just like she had been chased out.”
I thought: if I'd seen her, she'd come out faster than that.
“You're nuts,” I said. “Soon as I saw you, I thought your liver had been shot to hell.”
A look of doubt crossed his face, then he came back again. “You can't kid me,” he said, with an attempt to leer. “She was some baby... a real hot mamma.”
I finished my coffee and lit a cigarette. “Do you often get like this?” I said anxiously. “I bet you'll even be able to describe her to me.”
“Sure I can,” he said. “She was tall, blonde, with a make-up that just knocked me. She wore black, and had a large black felt hat, and a gold something or other round her neck. She was moving fast, but I'd know her any time.”
I got to my feet, pushing the chair away with the back of my legs. I looked down at him in concern. “You gotta do something about this,” I said. “You go an' see a croaker... you've been seeing things.”
I walked out of the restaurant, leaving him snorting. Once I was on the street I walked slowly, picking my way through the crowds milling to work.
So she was blonde, tall and dressed in black. A sweet job to look for a dame with that description. Still, she'd got my five grand, and I was going to find her or bust.
Maybe Ackie would know where she fitted in. I turned into a drug-store and rang the Press room, but he wasn't there. They thought he was over at Hank's pool-room having a game, but they weren't sure.
I took a taxi down to Hank's, but he wasn't there either. They thought he'd show up, so I spent a little time practising shots on one of the tables.
I never managed to get the knack of the game, but it interested me, and whenever I got near a table I just had to push the balls around. I got so interested in-a cannon-shot that seemed to be going just right that I lost count of the time. After I had broken my combination up, I thought I'd better give Ackie a miss and get on to the street again. As I was moving, a long, thin dope, dressed like a mock member of the upper crust, wandered in and stood watching me.