by Otto Penzler
On the way up to the tenth floor Francis relieved the guy of his rod and turned him over to the boys. Then as the elevator stopped, Francis and I stepped out while the rest of the boys held back. So long as the door was open the elevator couldn’t be called to any other floor.
Walking towards the rear of the building, we didn’t see anybody in the corridor. When I came to the door of apartment 1014 I pushed a bell button.
Almost immediately the door opened. Francis jammed his foot in the opening and followed it with a massive shoulder as he dug his gun into the belly of a guy with a long, thin face. After that there was no trouble at all.
I signaled the boys in the elevator and they came trooping back to the apartment. Half a dozen couples and two unattached men were lounging around the lavishly furnished rooms in various stages of helplessness. There had been a larger crowd earlier in the evening, I knew, because of the heavy reek of opium smoke that was still in the air.
We had a little trouble herding the people into one of the back rooms with the guards. Two of the women had to be carried, but after that the boys had the place to themselves. In less than ten minutes it was one sweet wreck. Then we left.
We visited the other two places before we called it a night. At the third one Francis had to put a bullet through one guard’s belly before he’d listen to reason, but there was no other trouble. Then I felt better.
Back in the car again, I told the boys to call at my hotel the next day for their pay, and then promised them a vacation while the Club Bijou was being remodeled. I let them out at one of the better hot spots, and then returned the car to the garage.
It was only a few minutes past three when I left the garage. I had intended to return to the hotel and catch up on some sleep, but after I’d caught a cab I decided to drop around to my apartment and get another dress. Crawling through that wreckage hadn’t helped the looks of my evening gown much.
After that bit of work I figured Suds Garland would be plenty busy for a few hours, listening to the stories his guards would tell. I didn’t know then that he still had another card up his sleeve.
I’d been dragging on a cigarette, very much pleased with myself, but when the cab came in sight of my apartment house I got a shock. Several cars were parked along the curb and a large crowd was gathered around the entrance of the building.
A crowd at that time of night meant just one thing. The cops were staging a raid, and something told me they were looking for me.
CHAPTER VI
IN THE BAG
Quickly I leaned forward in the seat, rapped on the glass partition, and told the driver to swing around the next corner and stop. While he followed those instructions I did some fast headwork.
By the time the cab halted alongside the curb I’d decided to see for myself what all the excitement was about. So I paid the driver and let him go. Then I started down the street towards the crowd.
If the cops were looking for me, I knew it wouldn’t be a bad idea to find out what I was wanted for before they found me. There was enough of a crowd in the street to give me a chance to look around and ask some questions without being too conspicuous. And that’s just what I did.
At first I tried to piece together the comments of the spectators that I overheard, but except for a lot of excited chatter about nothing in particular nobody was volunteering real information. Finally I moved in beside a man at the edge of the crowd.
“What happened, buddy?” I inquired, smiling my sweetest. “Raid a disorderly house?”
The man smiled at my sally. Then he became very blase.
“Maybe that’s what it is,” he answered. “There’s nothing to see here. I’m going home and get some sleep.”
I was all set to crack wise at him when suddenly I felt a hand close over my left arm. Turning my head, I looked into the pale eyes of Simon Grundish. So I didn’t say a word, just responded to the pressure on my arm and followed him down the street, away from the crowd.
When we were alone he took his hand from my arm. Grundish wasn’t much of a night owl, and at his age when he was on the street at that hour I knew it was serious. But I waited for him to open the conversation.
“I just heard about it, Queen,” he said a moment later, “and came right down to see what I could do. Lucky I found you.”
“Yes, it is lucky,” I admitted, “but I don’t know what it’s all about. What do the cops want me for now?”
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t. I just arrived before you found me.”
“Well, Queen, this is pretty serious. The men who raided your place were Federal narcot agents.”
“What!” I stopped and looked hard at Grundish.
“That’s right, Queen,” he continued. “They found a large quantity of dope—cocaine, I think it was—in your apartment. We’re going to have a devil of a time beating the rap on that charge. I’ll do what I can, but I can’t promise—”
“Jeeze, what a lousy break that is!” I interrupted. “Snowbound, and no way of explaining that dope in my apartment!”
“No way at all that I know of. Looks like Suds Garland has played his ace.”
“Yeah, but I’ll beat the rap.” I said that impulsively, not having the faintest idea of how I was going to do it. Then I got an idea. “Let’s walk.”
We walked, and I did some hard thinking. Presently I thought I had things doped out enough to give Grundish my idea.
“Listen,” I began, speaking slowly in a low voice, “remember Sid Lang, the big detective who used to work for the district attorney? You know, the guy who smashed my liquor mob.”
“Yes, I know who you mean. I don’t think I ever met him, but—”
“Well, you’re going to meet him. He’s in the Mercy Hospital with a cracked head. That blast at the club caught him—killed my checkroom girl at the same time. He’s a private dick now and has been working quietly on breaking Suds Garland’s racket.”
“Did he put the Federal agents on you?”
I shook my head. “No, nothing like that. Suds thinks he’s clever, but he isn’t. He planted that dope in my place—not Lang—and then passed along the tip for the raid. Remember the girl who was killed several days ago shortly after leaving my place?”
Grundish nodded.
“Well,” I continued, “she was Sid Lang’s sweetheart. That’s something he’s got to settle with Suds himself. So I want you to see Lang as early as you can. Explain the situation to him. Tell him I’m going to do him a favor and expect one in return.”
“But what can he do that I can’t, Queen?”
“Just this. He’s been on the prod against this dope racket. He knows who’s at the head of it and probably was all set to make the pinch when he got smacked by that blast. I could use his testimony if the Feds get me and bring me to trial. See?”
“Bright idea, Queen,” said Grundish admiringly. “I could probably fix the case, but it would take time and might cause a lot of questions to be asked. It isn’t as though it were merely a liquor charge.”
“Okay, then. You do that for me. Also see my lawyer and send him around to the hotel later today. You might drop around yourself and tell me what Sid Lang says. I think he’ll come through. He’s a pretty white guy for a dick. And thanks a lot for showing up when I needed you most. See you later.”
“Where are you going now?”
“Me?” I put on a good act of being surprised. Then I smiled slightly and added, “I’m getting under cover where it’s safe.”
“Do that,” said Grundish in parting.
My smile became bigger while I turned and watched Grundish walk off down the street, his short, thin body looking very frail in the darkness. And I had good reason to smile.
I wasn’t going under cover just yet. I was going to settle the score with Suds Garland in the only way he seemed to be able to understand—with guns.
It was still more than an hour before daylight, and I figured I had time enough to call upon Garland in
person that night. The weight of the gun on my leg gave me added confidence as I hailed a cab a few minutes after Grundish left me.
Giving the driver an address that would bring me within a block of Suds Garland’s place, I lighted a butt and settled back to enjoy the ride. Fifteen minutes later I left the cab and waited until the car moved away again, getting down to the business at hand.
The apartment house where Garland was living was a six-story structure, situated on a corner. Along one side ran an alley that showed the faint outline of fire escapes up the side of the building in the darkness. The other side of the building was adjoined by a small brownstone front.
I didn’t waste any time trying to climb up the fire escape. Suds lived on the fourth floor and that was too much of a climb for the time I had to spare. I went right to the main entrance and looked over the array of bell buttons and name cards, among which was one plainly labeled Garland.
But I didn’t push the bell under that card. I selected two apartments on the sixth floor and held down the buttons for a full minute of steady ringing.
The street door was one of those safety latch things that can be opened from any apartment in the building. Somebody in one of the two apartments I was ringing would almost certainly release the latch, late though it was. And they did.
With the first click of the latch I was in the building. The main corridor was dimly lighted by widely spaced bulbs. I found the stairs and climbed fast, ignoring the automatic electric elevator opposite the steps. Too much noise might warn Suds of my visit.
At the fourth floor landing I paused. Not a sound came to me. As yet the people at the top floor didn’t suspect they were receiving no visitors and had not opened their doors to investigate.
Silently I moved along the corridor until I stopped at the door of Suds Garland’s apartment. Then after a final glance along the hall I got my gun in my right hand and pressed the doorbell with my left forefinger.
I was taking a big chance, and I knew it. I wasn’t certain that Garland was home, and if he was I wanted to be ready for anything. I was.
After a couple of minutes there was the sound of a key turning in the lock. Then several bolts were shot back. Keeping off to one side of the door, my back flattened against the wall so that I was out of sight, I waited.
I felt rather than saw the door swing open on silent hinges. For a long breathless moment I thought my plan wasn’t going to work. Then, curiosity aroused, Suds Garland himself put one foot over the threshold and looked out along the corridor.
My gun hit his belly and stayed there.
“Inside!” I breathed, increasing the pressure of the gun as Garland recoiled from its touch. “Keep your hands high!”
His eyes went wide with sudden terror, but he raised his hands without a murmur. The next moment I was on the other side of the door and had kicked it shut and locked it.
“Got company?” I asked.
Suds shook his head. I didn’t believe him.
“You lead the way. I want to talk to you, but if you’re lying I’ll give you the business pronto. Move!”
He walked steadily enough into the living room. There I found a couple of softly shaded lights burning. Garland was in his shirt sleeves, and had apparently come in only a few minutes before I arrived. His hat and coat were lying on a chair as though he had just taken them off.
So far as I could see he hadn’t been lying after all about not having company. From the living room I could see into a small dining room. Beyond that I knew was a bedroom, and both rooms were in darkness.
But I didn’t take any chances with Garland. The boy was tricky, and before I faced him again I relieved him of a snub-nosed .38 revolver that bulged plainly in his hip pocket. Then with a gun in each hand I backed around in front of him and made him sit down on a divan. I remained standing.
“Suppose we cut the talk short,” I opened, noticing that Suds had regained his composure. If I hadn’t been so mad I might have known that his confidence spelled trouble.
“Just as you say, Queen,” he answered evenly. “You didn’t have to come busting in here like that. I’d have let you in.”
“Yes, you would!” I jeered. “I’m finished with playing nice with you, Suds. I’m going to show you how tough a lady can be.”
“You and who else?”
“We won’t argue the point,” I went on. “I want a signed confession from you that you planted that snow in my apartment.”
“What snow?”
His pose of innocence was funny. But I didn’t laugh.
“You’ve got a pencil in your vest pocket,” I continued. “Get that newspaper off the floor in front of you. Write the confession on the margin. I’ll dictate it.”
“I’m a hard man to deal with, Queen,” he stated with a great show of nerve. “A hard man. You just think I’m soft because I’ve been easy with you. Now I’m going to show you just how tough I am.”
“Can the chatter!” I snapped. “Get that pencil in your hand!”
I gestured with the gun in my left hand. Suds Garland laughed softly, derisively.
“You little fool!” he blazed, leaning forward while he looked up at me with flashing black eyes. “You’ve been covered ever since I sat down. Give it to her, Gus, if she moves a muscle!”
For a moment I didn’t know whether he was merely bluffing or really meant that speech. The business of getting you to look behind you for an attack from the rear was old stuff. So I hefted the guns in my hands and watched Garland closely.
Suddenly I froze.
“Right,” drawled a voice behind me.
Suds Garland had not been bluffing. The single word told me that a gunman was concealed in the darkness of the dining room. Just when I thought I had Garland in the bag I had been trapped myself!
CHAPTER VII
NOT SO TOUGH
For a full minute I remained perfectly motionless. Not a sound could be heard, save the hoarse breathing of Suds Garland and the man behind me.
The strain was terrific, but I’ve been in a lot of tight places and my nerves can stand plenty. This time was no exception. If I could prolong the suspense either Garland or the fellow called Gus would break under the nervous torture. But I wasn’t doing nothing while I waited.
I was thinking—hard!
Finally as Suds moistened his lips with the darting point of his tongue I raised my left thumb and slowly pulled back the hammer of the .38. There was a sharp click as the hammer settled into the full cock position.
That slight sound only served to increase the tension. Garland’s black eyes narrowed to slits. The muscles of his lean face became rigid as he sought to control his features. I might be in a tight place, but he certainly wasn’t having a picnic.
“Well?” I said softly, and in that intense silence it sounded as though I had shouted at the top of my voice.
I wasn’t making a grandstand play. Pulling back the hammer of the .38 had been straight business. I figured that if it came to a showdown with the man behind me I could get in at least one shot that would keep Garland with me when I went down under a bullet.
But I really didn’t want to kill Suds Garland—yet. I wanted him to live long enough to write that confession and sign it. After that I would kill him with his own gun and make it look like suicide. That would give him the best out he could get.
When there was no answer to my single question I knew Garland and the guy behind me were uncertain about their next move. They had expected me to drop my guns and be a good girl, but they didn’t know Queen Sue.
After another minute or so of silence I got tired of waiting. It was evident enough that both men knew what would happen if the guy in the dark took a shot at me. But waiting was getting me nothing. I wanted action.
“Take plenty of time to think it over, Suds,” I advised in a sneering voice. “If you’re the hard mug you think you are, tell your buddy to squeeze lead or drop the gun.”
“You—you don’t have a chance, Queen,”
he stammered after a moment. Little beads of sweat oozed from his face and formed bigger drops that ran down his cheeks and the sides of his nose unheeded. “You can’t get out of here alive.”
“Speaking for yourself?” I threw back coolly.
But I wasn’t as cool as I sounded. I’m only human after all and with a guy like Garland I couldn’t tell how this battle of wills was going to turn out.
My last crack floored Garland for a moment. Then he looked past me and did things with his eyes.
I guessed what he meant, and raised the gun in my right hand slightly. Then I shifted the .38 slightly to the left where it would be handier for a quick shot without interfering with the movement of my right arm.
Suds’ work with his eyes had meant only one thing. The man behind me was to close in and overpower me without risking the chance of Garland getting shot.
The next moment soft-soled shoes slithered over the floor behind me. But I didn’t turn immediately. I waited until I figured the man behind me was almost within reach. Then I went into action.
Raising my right hand swiftly, I brought the nose of my automatic down hard on Suds Garland’s mouth. Simultaneously I whirled towards the left, brought the .38 in the open away from my body, and squeezed the trigger once.
I hadn’t been a moment too soon. The guy behind me had raised the gun in his right hand to club me down. The bullet from Garland’s gun caught him in the center of the throat under the chin, passed upward through his head, and knocked plaster from the ceiling.
The impact of the bullet lifted him up on his toes. Then while the roar of the shot still seemed to fill the room he started to fall.
I shot a quick glance at Garland. The guy who claimed he was so tough was grovelling on the divan from the blow on the mouth that had brought blood spurting to his smashed lips. I started to talk fast, but something that wasn’t on the schedule took the words out of my mouth.
The guy who’d tried to slug me hit the floor with his face. At the same instant his gun exploded as his right hand thumped the rug, throwing the muzzle of the gun upward.