by Otto Penzler
“God only knows why, Queen, but I believe you. See you later.”
He got up and moved quickly toward the door. But I was quicker. “Calm down, bright guy,” I ordered, turning the key in the lock and slipping the piece of metal down the neck of my dress. “You’re not leaving here until you cool off.”
“Give me that key before—”
He never finished that sentence. As his big hands reached for me again I sidestepped away from in front of the door. At the same instant my right hand shot under the hem of my dress and came out with my gun in my fingers.
“Back up, Sid!” I snapped. “You’re not such a bad guy for being a dick, and you’re not going to make a damned fool of yourself. Sit down— before I send you to the hospital with a slug in your leg. You’ll be safe there.”
For a moment I thought my argument wasn’t going to work. I’ve never seen a guy with more nerve than Sid Lang has, but he knew I meant every word I said. He’d learned by experience that Queen Sue doesn’t bluff.
When he was seated in the chair again I gave him some advice.
“I didn’t want to do this, Sid, but I had to. You don’t mean a thing in my young life, but listen anyway. If anything happens to Suds Garland now, the cops will come looking for you. You aren’t on the force now. You’re just an agency man—a private dick. And you might end up in the electric chair. Get it?”
He got it all right, but he didn’t nod immediately. Behind his cold eyes I could see that his brain was working again.
“That’s fine,” I continued. “Perhaps in a way I was partly responsible for what happened to Kate, but you can’t go around shooting a guy just because you know he’s guilty of a dirty trick. You’ve got to have proof.”
“I’ll get it, and then I’ll—”
“You listen to me! Get yourself a good alibi and sit tight. Remember, the cops will look you up if anything happens to Suds Garland.”
“You mean you are going to—” Lang half rose to his feet in his eagerness.
“Sit down, Sid. That’s better. I’m saying nothing about what I’m going to do or not going to do. I’m just giving you some good pointers. You happen to be a dick and I happen to be— well, a gang girl. We’ve always been enemies, but we’re calling a truce for the next few days or weeks.”
“I guess we are,” nodded Lang resignedly. “But I’m not letting you fight my battles. I see the point in what you’ve been talking about, and I’ll take it easy. Think I’ll go now.”
There was no use of talking to him any longer, so I went over, unlocked the door, and then stepped aside as I put my gun back on my leg. Sid Lang paused at the threshold and looked down at me with a faint smile.
“Thanks, Queen, for not letting me go off half-cocked,” he said quietly. “I’ll remember that.”
Yes, he would remember that I’d done him a favor, but he didn’t fool me. I knew as well as though he’d told me in so many words that he was going to kill Suds Garland, regardless of what I had said. And after I’d closed the door behind him I did some fast brain work.
Then a few minutes later I stepped to the telephone and called Suds Garland’s number again. This time I got him on the wire. After that I didn’t waste time.
“Don’t ask who’s calling,” I said quickly. “This is just a friendly tip. You’re on the spot!”
Before Suds could say a word I hung up. He had been clever in trying to frame me for the killing of Kate Travers, but not clever enough to outwit Queen Sue. My telephone message would give him something to worry about.
CHAPTER III
STRAIGHT TALK
Don’t get the idea I was playing stoolie for anybody. No, nothing like that. I just didn’t like the way things were shaping up.
There was a lot more to this whole business than surface indications showed. In the first place, Sid Lang’s explanation of how Kate Travers happened to be in with Suds Garland’s mob was very weak. But right at the moment I wasn’t arguing the point.
My best bet was to play a waiting game, and I did just that. With Sid Lang thinking that I believed his story I figured something would break. Of course, I was taking a big chance that I wouldn’t get in a jam, but I can usually take care of myself.
So far as Lang wanting to kill Suds Garland was concerned, I knew it was true. Garland had gunned out the girl and ought to pay for it. But for no reason at all both Garland and Sid Lang were trying to get me into the fight.
That’s why I tipped Garland that he was on the spot. I didn’t want anything happening to him until I found out just why and how I figured in his plans. I knew something would happen if I let things run their course. And it happened, but not as I’d expected.
I was sitting in my private office at the Club Bijou two nights later when there was the sound of scuffling outside my door. It was long past midnight and with a big crowd in the dining room I thought it was just a couple of drunks who’d found their way back into the corridor that led past my office.
A moment later I discovered what it was all about. The door opened and Francis, my head waiter, and one of the bouncers dragged in a small man who was sniveling and begging for mercy. I took one look at the three of them, then got up and closed the door behind them, locking it.
“What’s up, Francis?” I demanded, frowning at the little man who suddenly became silent when he saw me.
Francis was nothing like his name sounded. He was more than two hundred pounds of bone and muscle packed into six feet of height. In the dining room, bowing and smiling to the patrons of the club, he looked and spoke like a gentleman. Out of character, he was the best muscle man I had.
So when I asked that question Francis scowled, jerked the little man around in front of him and snapped:
“Caught this guy peddling dope—snowbird himself.”
I took a moment to think that over. The Club Bijou is on the lower East Side and in that district nobody but Suds Garland sells the stuff that makes old men out of younger men quicker than anything else in the world. So I figured this was another of Garland’s bright ideas.
“What’s your name, buddy?” I asked.
The little man cringed and looked up at Francis and the bouncer like a whipped dog. Then he babbled:
“I ain’t done nothing! These birds just framed me—”
“Search him,” I ordered, not wanting to hear his sob story.
“Already did it, Queen,” replied Francis. “Here’s what he had left.”
He took a number of small folded papers from a side pocket of his tuxedo jacket and tossed them on my desk. I gave them only a glance and then looked back at the little man.
“So they framed you, eh?” I said quietly.
The little man nodded vigorously.
“Like to sniff a deck? Fix you up—steady your nerves,” I continued, and almost smiled at the little man’s reaction.
He looked at the folded papers on the desk, licked his lips with a nervous tongue, and frowned with indecision. He didn’t know whether I was kidding him or not. I didn’t wait for him to make up his mind.
“Sock him once, Francis,” I instructed, “and toss the rat out into the alley. He won’t come back.”
Francis and the bouncer dragged the little guy out before he could squeal. A few minutes later I picked up the bindles of coke, went into the ladies’ room, and washed them down a toilet. Then I went out to the main room and looked over the crowd.
Had the guy really been peddling the stuff in the club, or was he just trying to hide it? I didn’t know, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if Suds Garland had made a plant and then tipped the narcotic agents to raid me.
But there was nothing to gain by trying to figure things out by mere headwork. Francis had spotted the fellow before he could do any harm. So I dismissed the incident from my mind and sat down at one of the tables with some friends.
An hour later I was still there, laughing and chatting after the floor show had played its last turn of the night, when Francis gave me th
e high sign from the side of the room. I excused myself and went over to him.
“Suds Garland just went back to your office,” he whispered rapidly. “I couldn’t stop him without raising a row and that would have been bad for business.”
“Anybody with him?” I inquired. Things were beginning to move faster. I like speed.
“Two bodyguards. What’ll I do?”
“Get a couple of the boys and hang around the corridor. No gunplay unless I give the word. Don’t want to ruin business. See?”
Francis nodded and I started to move toward the corridor that led to my office in the rear of the building. I’d taken two steps when Francis caught me by the arm.
“Where are you going?”
“To my office,” I answered quietly. “Any objections?”
“No—but I don’t want you to get hurt.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Francis. Save your sympathy for Suds.”
With that I moved on. It seemed like old times again to have somebody worrying about my safety. But it wasn’t unusual. I pride myself on picking men who are loyal to me through thick and thin. And Francis was proving me right.
Once out of sight of the crowd in the main room I got the gun from the holster on my leg. Then with the comforting feel of steel in my palm I moved quickly down the corridor.
At the door of my office I paused for a moment and listened. Little sounds of movement came from the room, but there was no talking. Suds was apparently looking over the place before he settled down to wait for me. I didn’t give him time to get impatient.
Turning the knob with my left hand, I opened the door a few inches, and slipped silently into the room. The next moment I had the door closed again, my gun up at my hip, and my back to the wall.
“Looking for me, Suds?”
The three men whirled at the sound of my voice. At the moment I had entered the room they had been crowded around my desk with their backs to the door.
None of them had their guns out. But as I spoke one of the bodyguards, a young fellow with a smooth, beardless face, raised his right hand toward an armpit holster.
“I wouldn’t!” I snapped, and the youngster froze.
“What’s the meaning of this?” demanded Suds.
I narrowed my eyes slightly while I smiled at his weak attempt to bluff my play. His tall, thin body was stooped in a half-crouch as though he was going to leap across the room at me. His black eyes were expressionless, but the sight of my gun had caused the blood to drain from his ruddy face, leaving his skin the color of dirty milk.
“Sit down, all of you,” I ordered. “You, Garland, squat at the desk, hands on the glass where I can see them. Snap into it!”
Suds Garland didn’t argue. He seated himself in the chair in front of the desk and flattened his hands, palm downward, on the top like I’d ordered. The two bodyguards flopped into a couple of chairs along the wall at the right of the desk.
“Hands on your knees—and keep them there!” I continued.
They didn’t need to be told twice. My smile broadened as I looked at each of the three men for a moment in silence. Then abruptly I wiped the smile from my face, bent slightly, replaced my gun in the holster on my leg, and then straightened.
“Think you’re pretty tough, eh?” I sneered as the three held their poses. “Dealing with a woman is usually soft pickings for hard guys like you. Well, here’s your chance to prove how tough you are. Reach for your gats!”
For perhaps all of ten seconds none of the three men moved a muscle. Maybe they knew I wasn’t bluffing when I put my gat back on my leg. I knew I could beat them to the draw and none of them wanted to take the chance. Where I only had inches to move my hand they had feet, and covering distance in split seconds counts on the draw.
Finally Suds Garland shifted his eyes to the men along the wall and shook his head slightly. I laughed harshly.
“Bright guy, Suds,” I snorted. “Telling the boys not to draw when they’ve already made up their minds to be good. I guess my reputation isn’t so bad!”
Suds spread his lips in a sickly smile. “We’re just making a friendly call, Queen. You beat up Johnny’s brother and—”
“Who’s Johnny?” I wanted to know.
Garland nodded toward the beardless fellow who looked like a kid alongside the other muscle man who had a scarred lip and a broken nose.
“Okay,” I said. “Go on with your song and dance.”
“Well, you beat up Johnny’s brother and— well, I just wanted to know what the idea was,” Suds finished lamely.
“And I’ll tell you,” I returned in a harsh voice. “Dope peddling—or planting—is out at the Club Bijou. Get that straight! The next time I catch one of your punks around here you pick him up at the morgue. See?”
“But, Queen, I thought we were friends?” whined Garland.
For a moment I didn’t know whether to laugh or call Francis and the boys and have the three of them thrown out. But I did neither. I just nodded slowly.
“I’m going to talk straight,” I said quietly. “I think I was right when I guessed that you thought you were going to have an easy time fighting a woman. Now, I’m going to tell you something, Suds, and your two trained seals can listen in for future reference.”
I paused a moment, but Garland had nothing to say. So I went on.
“A month ago when we were both fighting Buzz Mallon we played ball together. But if you got the idea we were friends you were mistaken. I told you then I didn’t like dope and wouldn’t join your racket. You, Suds, came into power after the cops wrecked my old mob and I had to leave town. You only know Queen Sue from what you’ve heard about her. If you were bright, you’d have learned something from what I did to Mallon.”
“Didn’t I help you get rid of Mallon?” Suds asked in a thin voice.
“You did, but I also helped you and that squared our account,” I shot back quickly. “And from now on you’d better watch your step, or you’ll think Mallon had an easy time of it. Maybe I’m not running a big mob like I used to, but I’m still Queen Sue. That’s not boasting. That’s a fact. Remember it.”
“Ah, you’re just nervous about something, Queen,” shrugged Garland.
“Not half as nervous as you,” I pointed out, smiling at the way Suds and his henchmen were holding the pose I’d given them. “You’re walking out of here like good little boys, unless you want a skinful of lead. Move!”
The three of them got slowly to their feet. Keeping their arms at the sides they moved slowly towards the door. I backed off to one side, kept my back to the wall, ready for anything. But nothing happened that time.
Suds paused at the door and the other two crowded around him.
“Sorry we can’t be friends, Queen,” he said.
“I’m not,” I replied. “Just because you had an easy time of rubbing out one woman you don’t have to think all of them are that easy. And don’t try to plant any more kills on me.”
Suds arched thin eyebrows in feigned surprise. “Me—tried to plant a kill?”
I laughed again. “Forget it, Suds. It didn’t work. But don’t make the same mistake twice. By the way, better get a couple of guys with nerve. Bodyguards that let a woman bluff them don’t amount to much.”
Garland didn’t reply to my taunt. He swung open the door and ran smack into Francis in the corridor. The other two crowded out after him and I smiled at my head waiter who looked at me for instructions.
“Take them out the front way,” I said. “Just a little friendly call, but give them the works if there’s any funny business. Scram.”
Suds gave me a parting glare. My little talk hadn’t accomplished much, but I knew it would serve to bring matters to a head. And it did, even sooner than I expected.
CHAPTER IV
FOOLISH BUSINESS
Dawn was breaking when I finally left the night club. I hadn’t given Suds Garland and his mob a second thought since I’d seen him go down the corridor with Francis and the boys.
There had been no trouble at all about their leaving. But the moment I stepped out of the Club Bijou into the first faint light of a new day I had the uneasy feeling that something was going to happen. Perhaps it was just the eery half-light between night and day that affected me that way, but I was taking no chances.
A slight fog had settled over the city and now hung in shifting ribbons that swirled along the street like ghosts hurrying to escape the rising sun. I noticed those little details unconsciously because I wasn’t interested in the beauties of a new day at the moment.
Across the pavement from the entrance of the club a cab waited. There was nothing unusual in that because the doorman or Francis always ordered a cab for me when I left in the morning, and any cab they ordered was safe.
So with scarcely a glance to either side I walked across the sidewalk and stepped into the cab. Then just as I seated myself I caught a glimpse of moving figures in the fog beyond the entrance of the club.
Before I could say a word the doorman, who was on duty late that morning, slammed the door and the driver let in the clutch. The figures in the fog grew plainer as they approached the cab, heads down, hands sunk deep in the side pockets of their coats.
I didn’t wait to see more. The cab started to move as I opened the door on the far side and stepped out into the street. Shielded by the slowly moving cab from the figures on the side-
walk, I slipped across the street and was partly concealed by the fog.
I hadn’t acted too soon, for as I reached the opposite curb guns crashed across the street. A man cursed, and the cab stopped with a sudden squeal of brakes. I counted five quick shots. Then the slap of running feet on pavement came to me.
Straining my ears to keep the running men within earshot, I started along the street after them. A moment later the fog parted and I got a brief view of two men. Instantly my gun was in my hand, but even as I raised it the fog closed in again and the men were lost in the half-light.
Then as I started to cross the street again I heard the low purr of a powerful motor behind me. At the same time there was a chorus of shouts from the Club Bijou as Francis and some of the late diners and drinkers piled out on the street.