"So am I," retorted Johnny.
"I'll leave a message, then."
"I can leave one for you."
Sutton suddenly grinned. "Look, Fletcher, what's wrong 'ith me phoning you here? You are in Room eight twenty-one, ren't you?"
"Sure," said Johnny. "Room eight twenty-one ... at the 'orty-Fifth Street Hotel."
Sutton exclaimed softly. "But you charged the limousine to . . ." Then he chuckled. "You are a character. All right, th Forty-Fifth Street Hotel."
"Now you might as well give me your address," Johnn said. "I'll find it out anyway, but that takes time and you wan me to concentrate on rinding Lester Smithson, don't you?"
"You've got a point there. Believe it or not, I happen t live here, up in the tower."
Johnny grinned. "Well, one of us lives here, anyway."
"Now, don't go getting any ideas, like charging limousine to me."
"Who, me?"
"That's right. I've lived here quite a while and they knoA me. I just thought I'd mention it."
"Glad you did. Tomorrow, then."
Johnny and Sam left the hotel and started to walk acros town to the Forty-Fifth Street Hotel. Sam walked besid Johnny, his face wearing a heavy scowl.
"All right, Sam, out with it. What's eating you?"
"This detective stuff, Johnny. You know I don't like it.
"Relax, Sam, we've got a paying client. How else could w make eight fifty in a week's time?"
"Sure, we'll make eight fifty. We always make money 01 of these things, but how is it we always wind up broke? And we make all that dough, why is Peabody always about to loc us out of our hotel room?"
"That's one of the things I don't understand, Sam. One c us squanders the money. Which reminds me, how much di that lunch cost you today, the second lunch, I mean? Whe you gave the fifty-cent tip."
Sam winced. "All right, Johnny, I get the idea. I ought 1 keep my trap shut. I know I haven't got a chance arguir against you."
"Don't feel badly about it. Nobody else can outtalk m either." Johnny chuckled. "That Sutton lad tried to talk fancy,
"Yeah, but we haven't got any money from him."
"We got a fiver out of him."
"What kind of dough is that for a guy who lives in th Barbizon-Waldorf Tower? You ask me, he's pretty cozy wit his money."
"We've seen the color of it, we'll get more, don't worry."
Although it was after eleven o'clock when they entered ti Forty-Fifth Street Hotel, Peabody, the manager, was in ti lobby. He smiled wolfishly when he spied Johnny and Sai heading for the elevators.
"Mr. Fletcher," he called. 42
Johnny turned to the desk. "Harya, Peabody, a good night's sleep to you."
"But not to you," retorted Peabody. "I've been thinking things over and I see no reason for letting you stay another night in this hostelry. As long as you're going to take up your abode in the subway, you might as well do it this evening."
"We've had a rough day, Peabody. I need a good night's sleep because I'm going to be busy tomorrow."
"So shall I be. Fumigating your room."
"Good night, Peabody."
Johnny stepped into the elevator, but Peabody came dashing out from behind the desk. "No, Albert, don't take them up!" he cried to the elevator operator.
With a sudden snarl of rage, Sam Cragg sprang out of the elevator and grabbed the hotel manager by the coat front. "You heard Johnny, didn't you? We're tired and we want to go to bed."
"Unhand me, you—you gorilla!" cried Peabody. "This is the last straw. I shall not only lock you out of your room, I shall turn you over to the police."
"On what charge?" snapped Johnny.
"Defrauding an innkeeper," snarled Peabody, still struggling to get out of Sam's grip. "It's against the law to engage hotel accommodations when you have no means of paying."
'Tet him go, Sam," Johnny said. Then facing Peabody: "Now, see here, I'm getting sick and tired of hearing you harping on that subject. Just how much do you say we owe you?"
"You know very well. It's thirty-six dollars and it might as well be "
"Thirty-six dollars," snapped Johnny. "I've got a good notion to pay you and move out of this crummy joint."
"Oh, you're moving, all right," howled Peabody. "Right now, you're moving."
"On the other hand," Johnny went on, "I think I'll just pay up and stay here."
"You're doing a lot of talking about paying," sneered Peabody.
"Why shouldn't I? I always pay my honest debts. . . ." He reached into his pocket and brought out a sheaf of bills. "Thirty-six dollars, did you say?"
Peabody gulped as he saw the money. "Wh-where did you get that?"
"This small change? I've always got thirty-six dollars."
"Then why didn't you pay your bill when it was due?"
"Because you didn't ask me for it nice."
Peabody skimmed through the bills, counting them. "Very
veil, you made it. But there isn't going to be another time. You'll pay each and every week hereafter, at the end of the veek. I've got a good notion to make you pay in advance."
"Do you make other guests pay in advance?" cried Johnny.
"Other guesls don't do to me what you do."
"I'm not asking any favors," Johnny growled. "All I want ls the same treatment as your other paying guests."
Peabody opened his mouth to complain further, then Jiought better of it and whirling, went back behind his desk. Johnny and Sam rode up to their room on the eighth floor. When the door was closed on them, Johnny said, "I was going :o be decent about it and mail him the pawn ticket for his suit, but I dunno, now after the way he's treated us, I ought to tear it up!"
He didn't, however.
10
Hard knuckles pounded the door of Room 821. Johnny rolled over in bed and looked at the door. The knuckles massaged the door panels once more.
"Who is it?" he called.
"Open up, Fletcher," cried a voice outside the door.
Sam Cragg sat up in bed. "What's the idea, wakin' a man in the middle of the night?"
Johnny threw back the covers and strode to the door. He shot back the bolt and whipped open the door. J.J. Kilkenny, smiling nastily, stepped in. Sam shook his head, let out a roar and started around the bed to get at Kilkenny.
The skip tracer coolly produced a snub-nosed revolver. "I'm not going to skin my knuckles on you, fat boy."
"Fat boy?" roared Sam Cragg. "Put down that dingus and I'll twist you into a pretzel."
"Uh-uh," said Kilkenny. He reached back with his foot and shut the door. "Business before pleasure."
"I've got no more business with you," snapped Johnny.
"Oh yes, you have," sneered Kilkenny. "Remember that money you collected on the skip was twenty-two dollars short."
"You forgot my ten-dollar commission."
"I applied that on your own account." Kilkenny pointed to Sam Cragg with his revolver. "I haven't forgotten that little tab for the ape's mandolin."
"Who you callin' an ape?" demanded Sam.
"You," retorted Kilkenny.
Sam took another quick step forward, but Kilkenny kept the revolver pointed at him. "Come ahead, fatso." 44
"YouVe got no right to carry a gun," Johnny said angrily.
"I got a license, that gives me a right."
"Since when are they giving licenses to bill collectors?"
"People threaten me," smirked Kilkenny. "A man's got a right to defend himself. Like now—I got a claim against you birds and if you make a pass at me, I can shoot you and nothin'll happen to me. I'm only defending myself."
"I ain't sure that pea-shooter'd even hurt me," said Sam Cragg dourly. "Don't crowd your luck."
"I'll make this short and sweet," snapped Kilkenny. "You didn't give me all the money that Miss Cummings gave you. I happen to know that she gave you a piggy bank full of small change. I want it."
Johnny's eyes went involuntarily to the dresser where the limping goose bank had sto
od the day before. It was gone and for a moment Johnny thought that someone had stolen it. Then he recalled having swept it off the dresser into an open drawer the night before.
"There's only a bunch of pennies in the bank."
"Yeah, about twenty bucks' worth. I want them."
"You're welcome if you can get them out of the bank. I couldn't. The slot's too narrow."
Kilkenny held out his free hand. "Give."
Johnny turned his back on the bill collector and headed for the dresser. As he passed Sam, he winked and said quickly in an undertone, "Ready!"
He reached past Sam, pulled open the dresser drawer and took out the bronze limping goose bank. "Here," he said to Kilkenny, and tossed the bank to him. He threw it to the right of Kilkenny, so the bill collector had to lunge for it with the hand holding the gun. The bank struck the gun and for an instant Kilkenny tried to juggle both the revolver and the limping goose.
That was enough for Sam. He took a headlong plunge at Kilkenny, both hands flailing out. His head hit Kilkenny's midriff, his left hand struck the bill collector's right arm and closed around it. He gripped it savagely, twisting as both he and Kilkenny hit the floor.
Kilkenny cried out hoarsely in pain and the gun clattered to the floor. Johnny scooped it up just as Sam hit Kilkenny a short chopping blow on the chin with his fist.
Both Johnny and Sam stood up. Kilkenny's eyes were closed and he was moaning. Sam prodded him with his bare foot. "Cut out the stalling," he said, "I hardly hit you."
Kilkenny's eyes opened. "Help me up," he groaned.
"Get up yourself."
Kilkenny got painfully to his feet, but the fight was gone
from him. "That was a sneaking trick you pulled," he said to Johnny.
"Just like yours yesterday," Johnny replied cheerfully.
"You want to go another fall?" Sam asked.
"Gimme my gun," said Kilkenny, holding out his hand.
"Ixnay," said Johnny, "that's one of the rules of the game. You pull a gun on a man and he takes it away from you, it's his gun."
"That roscoe cost me twenty-seven fifty second-hand."
"That's twenty-seven fifty you're out."
Kilkenny blinked, drew a great breath and exhaled. "All right, if that's the way you're going to play. I'll remember it. It'll be my turn again next time."
"I'll be carrying his rod," Johnny said darkly. "You try anything on me when Sam isn't around and I'll be defending myself. Remember that."
Kilkenny pointed to the limping goose bank. "At least, can I have that?"
"I just told you—you lost."
"But you still owe me twenty-two bucks on the Cummings skip," protested Kilkenny, "not to mention the sixty-seven on the Ajax mandolin bill. That's eighty-nine bucks, altogether. All right, I promised you ten dollars for locating Cummings. That's seventy-nine bucks. Le'me have the bank and I'll knock off twenty—say, twenty-four—and call it an even fifty-five."
"Call it an even seventy-five," retorted Johnny. "I like it better."
Kilkenny scowled. "Watch yourself, Fletcher. I'm a bloodhound. When you're least expecting me, I'll pop up—and the gorilla won't be around."
"Gorilla!" cried Sam, and made another lunge at Kilkenny. But the star of the Acme Adjustment Agency collection force had had enough. He sprang back, whipped open the hall door and leaped through. Sam, in pajamas, closed the door and whirled back.
"That's what I like before breakfast," he cried cheerfully. "A workout. Gives me an appetite."
"We've got a buck forty-five," said Johnny. "Let's eat!"
A half hour later Johnny and Sam sat in the Automat, with Sam polishing off his second order of corned beef hash. He looked wistfully across at Johnny. "D'you suppose I could have another order, Johnny?"
Johnny shook his head. "We've now got left the sum of twenty cents, Sam."
Sam smacked his lips. "The Automat makes the best corned beef hash in town, maybe in the whole country. Don't you 46
think you could spend a couple of those dimes, the ones that ain't so old?"
"No, you've had enough to eat now. Sometime during the day I'll get that advance from James Sutton, then you can fill up. Right now, I think we'd better start earning that money."
"Where can you start on a deal like that? The guy disappeared twelve years ago."
"From where?"
"How would I know?"
"Sutton isn't going to be much help. He wants information but he doesn't give out any."
"Yeah, like last night. He didn't even want us to know where he lived."
"The man who could probably tell us more about young Smithson than anyone is old Jess Carmichael." Then, as Sam winced: "He'll probably be busy with the police commissioner this morning. I think maybe we'll try it from the back door."
"What back door?"
"Alice Cummings's."
"Oh, no!" cried Sam.
"She hates us," Johnny mused. "She may be mad enough so she'll spill something." He nodded. "Yes, I think we'll run up to her little old apartment."
"You never do things the easy way, do you, Johnny?" groaned Sam. "I ought to have some more corned beef hash if we're gonna face that little lady."
"Later."
The receptionist at the Chateau Pelham tore off her headphone as Johnny and Sam walked past her desk, headed for the elevators.
"Just a moment, please!"
Johnny grimaced, but turned back. "We're just going up to see Miss Qunmings."
"Everyone must be announced."
"She's expecting us."
"Is she? Well, I'll still have to announce you. Let's see, one of you is Mr. ah Fletcher, is it?"
"What a memory!" exclaimed Johnny.
"I remember you both. And I do not think Miss Cummings will want to see you. However ..." The operator made a phone connection, waited a moment, then said, "Miss Cummings, those two men who were here yesterday. . . . Yes, that's right. . . . Fletcher. . . ." She showed surprise, then nodded. "Very well, Miss Cummings," She broke the connection and said disapprovingly to Johnny, "You may go up."
Johnny winked at her. "I told you she was expecting us."
They stepped into the elevator. Sam regarded Johnny, puzzled. "I didn't think she'd let us in."
Johnny shrugged. "Women!"
They stepped out on Alice Cummings's floor and before Johnny could even press the door buzzer, the door was opened by Alice Cummings. She was wearing an expensive dressing gown of a delicate violet color. A smile was on her lips, but none in her eyes.
"Come in, Johnny," she said cordially. "And—Mr. Spragg, is it?"
"Cragg, lady, Sam Cragg."
"Sam," Alice Cummings purred. She regarded Sam fondly. "Strong, aren't you?"
"The strongest man in the world," Sam replied proudly, flexing his muscles as he passed Alice into the apartment.
Alice Cummings closed the door. "I'm glad you came," she said, addressing Johnny. "I was a little short of money yesterday. But I have it now."
"Oh, I didn't come because of that," Johnny said. "We're all squared away, financially."
"But I don't believe I gave you enough. I was several dollars short, wasn't I?"
"We're always glad to take money," Sam said.
Johnny shook his head. "You were a little short, but I said it was all right, so it's settled. You don't owe a thing."
Alice Cummings crossed to a table and picked up a red leather purse. "I always pay my debts. Let's see, the total bill was seventy-four dollars, I believe. And I gave you . . . how much in bills?"
"Fifty-seven. But "
"Then I owe you seventeen dollars." She took out a fat roll of bills and began peeling off notes. "Now, if you'll just give me back the little bank I gave you for security . .."
"I haven't got it with me."
"You can get it." She looked at him sharply. "You haven't had time to spend those coins, have you?"
"No," said Johnny, "but don't bother. I accepted them in full payment."
&nb
sp; "I want them back. I've been saving them for a long time."
"They were only pennies and dimes and quarters. About six dollars' worth ..."
"Get them for me, please. I want them."
Johnny hesitated. "I don't know whether I still have them all."
"You had no right to spend them. They—they're rare coins." 48
"That ain't what the coin dealer said," Sam exclaimed. "He offered us two for one, that's all."
"So you've taken them to a coin dealer," said Alice Cum-mings. Her eyes, already hard, became flinty. "You had no right. I gave you that bank just for security "
"Ever hear of a man named Kilkenny?" Johnny suddenly shot at her.
"Kilkenny—" Alice caught herself. "What's he got to do with this?"
"He wanted the bank, too."
"Who is Kilkenny?"
"He's a collector for the A.A.A.—the Acme Adjustment Agency."
"Isn't that the outfit you work for?"
"Not exactly. I don't really work for the A.A.A.—I was just helping out J.J."
"Look, Fletcher," Alice Cummings said bluntly. "I don't give a hoot and a holler for this A.A.A., or J.J. Kilkenny, or you. I've paid you your money and I want what's mine. I want that goose bank and what's in it. And I want it now."
Johnny said, "How long is it since you've seen Lester Smith-son?"
Johnny was not sure whether the name scored or not. Alice was already pretty angry. She exclaimed, "Who the devil is Lester Smithson?"
"Jess Carmichael's cousin."
"I'm not talking to you about Jess Carmichael. All I want from you is that bank and the coins it contained. I want it today—as soon as you can get it."
Johnny held out his hand for the seventeen dollars. "All right, Alice, you'll have it."
Alice drew back. "Not so fast, you'll get this money when I get mine. You'll be back in—an hour?"
"Maybe sooner."- Johnny signaled to Sam and they left the apartment.
In the elevator going down, Sam said, "You got the coins in your pocket, haven't you? You could've given them to her."
"I would have given them to her, but she was too anxious."
"That seventeen bucks wouldn't be bad. That's about all the coins would bring."
"According to the dealer we talked to last night. But there are other dealers."
The limping goose Page 6