front of Hammett on the street, a DeSoto. I sat up to be sure. It was Wylie and Conrad.
“I’m listening and I don’t hear anything,” Spainy said. “I got some time.”
“On the street,” I said, pointing, as Wylie and Conrad, still in overalls, got out of the car. Hammett stood his ground. Wylie shielded something with his body. I figured it was a gun because Hammett looked up at Spainy’s window, gave a lop-sided grin followed by a thin-shouldered shrug, and got into the car.
“They’re out there,” I said still pointing. “They’re kidnapping Hammett.”
Spainy lifted his eyebrows but he didn’t turn.
“That a fact? Right in front of police headquarters,” he said, sipping again at his Postum. “Who’s kidnapping him?”
“The two guys at Pudge … Block’s house,” I said. “Look, for God’s sake.”
Conrad was in the back seat. Wylie was in front with Hammett at his side.
“The guys …” Chief Spainy said, nodding. “I thought there were no guys.”
“There were. We just said that because … things were getting too complicated,” I explained. “Will you take a look?”
I got out of the chair, and started to move around the desk to show him as the DeSoto began to pull away from the curb. Spainy came out of the chair and kicked it behind him. It rolled back against the wall as he stepped in front of me. He still hadn’t looked out the window and I was beginning to understand whose pocket he was in.
“Sit back down,” Spainy said, fists balled.
“Do something, Spainy,” I said as the DeSoto pulled away and turned the nearest corner.
“Don’t ask for the dance if you don’t know the steps,” said Spainy.
“They’re gone,” I said, teeth clenched, looking into his eyes. “They’re gone, you damn pachyderm.”
One ham-handed fist came up and caught me in the stomach, doubling me over. The other hand, an uppercut, caught me on the left ear. I had a good shot at his groin. I didn’t take it. I staggered back to the chair at a ninety-degree angle.
“I’m the one with the big words around here,” he said, jabbing his thumb at his chest. “You are more than fifty miles from home and in a lonely place. Hammett’s got some friends, but you …”
“Friends like Pintacki?” I asked.
“None of your damn business, rabbit,” said Spainy, still standing.
My ear was bleeding, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me touch it.
“A couple of guys I think work for Pintacki just kidnapped Dashill Hammett from in front of your building,” I said, holding back the pain in my stomach. The ear didn’t really hurt. It just throbbed and demanded attention I wasn’t giving it. “He’s a real famous man, Spainy. Something happens to him and you’ll be riding herd on your rabbits full time.”
“Got no time for this, Peters. I warn you.” The first tremor of nervousness appeared in his voice. “You got some answers for me?”
“None,” I said, sitting up as straight as I could. “I’ve got other things I’d like to give you but I think I’ll save them for the holidays.”
Spainy laughed, a false laugh that shook his chest and turned his face red.
“Threats,” he said, between bellows. “God, rabbit, you got a nerve. I give you that. I pick you up by the ears and you’re still ready to bite. I’ll give you that.”
“You didn’t give it to me,” I said. “I earned it. How about I leave now or you throw me back in the cell and waste more taxpayer money? If I’m not out of here soon, I’d guess Hammett will call his friend Pintacki.”
“Thought old Hammett had been kidnapped?”
“Pick your story,” I said softly.
“I’ll pick your … get the hell out of here. I got reports, a lunch talk at the Kiwanis in Overton. Get the hell out.”
I stood up, ready to give him a Jimmy Cagney smile, but he was rummaging through his desk for something or nothing. I ignored the pain in my stomach, walked reasonably straight to the door and
“I’m listening and I don’t hear anything,” Spainy said. “I got some time.”
“On the street,” I said, pointing, as Wylie and Conrad, still in overalls, got out of the car. Hammett stood his ground. Wylie shielded something with his body. I figured it was a gun because Hammett looked up at Spainy’s window, gave a lop-sided grin followed by a thin-shouldered shrug, and got into the car.
“They’re out there,” I said still pointing. “They’re kidnapping Hammett.”
Spainy lifted his eyebrows but he didn’t turn.
“That a fact? Right in front of police headquarters,” he said, sipping again at his Postum. “Who’s kidnapping him?”
“The two guys at Pudge … Block’s house,” I said. “Look, for God’s sake.”
Conrad was in the back seat. Wylie was in front with Hammett at his side.
“The guys …” Chief Spainy said, nodding. “I thought there were no guys.”
“There were. We just said that because … things were getting too complicated,” I explained. “Will you take a look?”
I got out of the chair, and started to move around the desk to show him as the DeSoto began to pull away from the curb. Spainy came out of the chair and kicked it behind him. It rolled back against the wall as he stepped in front of me. He still hadn’t looked out the window and I was beginning to understand whose pocket he was in.
“Sit back down,” Spainy said, fists balled.
“Do something, Spainy,” I said as the DeSoto pulled away and turned the nearest corner.
“Don’t ask for the dance if you don’t know the steps,” said Spainy.
“They’re gone,” I said, teeth clenched, looking into his eyes. “They’re gone, you damn pachyderm.”
One ham-handed fist came up and caught me in the stomach, doubling me over. The other hand, an uppercut, caught me on the left ear. I had a good shot at his groin. I didn’t take it. I staggered back to the chair at a ninety-degree angle.
“I’m the one with the big words around here,” he said, jabbing his thumb at his chest. “You are more than fifty miles from home and in a lonely place. Hammett’s got some friends, but you …”
“Friends like Pintacki?” I asked.
“None of your damn business, rabbit,” said Spainy, still standing.
My ear was bleeding, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me touch it.
“A couple of guys I think work for Pintacki just kidnapped Dashill Hammett from in front of your building,” I said, holding back the pain in my stomach. The ear didn’t really hurt. It just throbbed and demanded attention I wasn’t giving it. “He’s a real famous man, Spainy. Something happens to him and you’ll be riding herd on your rabbits full time.”
“Got no time for this, Peters. I warn you.” The first tremor of nervousness appeared in his voice. “You got some answers for me?”
“None,” I said, sitting up as straight as I could. “I’ve got other things I’d like to give you but I think I’ll save them for the holidays.”
Spainy laughed, a false laugh that shook his chest and turned his face red.
“Threats,” he said, between bellows. “God, rabbit, you got a nerve. I give you that. I pick you up by the ears and you’re still ready to bite. I’ll give you that.”
“You didn’t give it to me,” I said. “I earned it. How about I leave now or you throw me back in the cell and waste more taxpayer money? If I’m not out of here soon, I’d guess Hammett will call his friend Pintacki.”
“Thought old Hammett had been kidnapped?”
“Pick your story,” I said softly.
“I’ll pick your … get the hell out of here. I got reports, a lunch talk at the Kiwanis in Overton. Get the hell out.”
I stood up, ready to give him a Jimmy Cagney smile, but he was rummaging through his desk for something or nothing. I ignored the pain in my stomach, walked reasonably straight to the door and
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