home.”
“You men,” she said, but she wasn't mad. Duffy knew she'd take it all right. She was like that. “Don't get him into trouble,” she said, looking at Sam.
“Me?” Sam laughed. “I like that. Get him into trouble? It's me that's going to run into that, I bet.”
Duffy shook his head. “You're just window-dressing,” he said. “You'll see.”
After the meal, McGuire pushed his chair back and looked inquiringly at Duffy. “You want to get going?” he said.
Duffy nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Might as well.”
Sam lit a cigarette and went over to get his hat. He slapped it on the back of his head and turned to Alice. “We ain't going to be late,” he glanced at Duffy, who shook his head. “Keep the bed warm for me, honey.”
She raised her face to his for a kiss, and Duffy looked on with approval. “You must've been screwy to marry a tramp like that,” he said to Alice.
Sam grinned. “There was a shortage of men at the time.”
Alice threatened him with a roll of bread, and he ducked out to get the car.
She said in a small voice, “You'll be careful?”
Duffy turned his head, and said with elaborate astonishment, “Why, sure, we're going to have a good time.”
She got from her chair and walked over to him. “Save it, Bill. You're poking your nose into this murder business.”
Duffy shrugged. “This won't amount to much,” he explained. “I've got a line on Cattley's girl friend. She might turn in some information. This business puzzles me. There is a lot I don't get. Maybe I've been a bit hasty, hiding up that rat. I don't know. This Annabel broad ain't nice. She's dangerous.”
“I wish you hadn't anything to do with it. Sam's worried too.”
Duffy put on his hat. “I gotta see it through now. Don't you worry about Sam, I won't get him into anything.”
“I'm worrying about you.”
“Forget it,” he pleaded; “it's going to come out okay.”
She went with him to the door. “I don't want to be a fuss.”
He patted her shoulder. “You're swell,” he said. “It'll be all right.”
He found Sam sitting at the wheel of a small tourer that had seen better days. Duffy climbed in beside him. “Where's this joint, anyway?” he asked.
Sam let in the clutch with a bang, the car jerked forward, and then stalled. Duffy didn't say anything, he was used to it. Sam pulled the starter, reversed the engine, and let the clutch in again. The car pulled away from the kerb, making a noise like a beehive.
“The Plaza?” Sam said; “it's near Manhattan Bridge.”
“Know the place?” Duffy asked.
“Sure,” Sam said. “This is a hot joint. I used to go there a bit in the old days.” Sam always called the time he was single 'the old days'. “It's tough, and packed with hot pants. You wait.”
Duffy leant back. “Sounds all right,” he said.
Sam drove two blocks in silence, then he said, “You telling me the news?”
Duffy gave him a cigarette. “I looked up Cattley's dump today. Annabel turned up. She was looking for something. She found it, and so did I.” He touched the scratches with his fingers and grinned. “I bet that honey's as mad as a hornet right now.”
Sam swerved to avoid a big Cadillac, grabbed his handbrake and shouted, “You street pushover,” to the fat driver.
Duffy took no notice; he had driven with Sam before. “What did you find?” Sam asked.
“It's a little note-book, full of ritzy names, and it don't mean a thing to me.”
“So?”
“Yeah.” Duffy frowned at his reflection in the driving-screen. “It's important. I know because I had to get tough with Annabel to get her to part. That dame scares me. She ain't normal.”
“I thought you
“You men,” she said, but she wasn't mad. Duffy knew she'd take it all right. She was like that. “Don't get him into trouble,” she said, looking at Sam.
“Me?” Sam laughed. “I like that. Get him into trouble? It's me that's going to run into that, I bet.”
Duffy shook his head. “You're just window-dressing,” he said. “You'll see.”
After the meal, McGuire pushed his chair back and looked inquiringly at Duffy. “You want to get going?” he said.
Duffy nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Might as well.”
Sam lit a cigarette and went over to get his hat. He slapped it on the back of his head and turned to Alice. “We ain't going to be late,” he glanced at Duffy, who shook his head. “Keep the bed warm for me, honey.”
She raised her face to his for a kiss, and Duffy looked on with approval. “You must've been screwy to marry a tramp like that,” he said to Alice.
Sam grinned. “There was a shortage of men at the time.”
Alice threatened him with a roll of bread, and he ducked out to get the car.
She said in a small voice, “You'll be careful?”
Duffy turned his head, and said with elaborate astonishment, “Why, sure, we're going to have a good time.”
She got from her chair and walked over to him. “Save it, Bill. You're poking your nose into this murder business.”
Duffy shrugged. “This won't amount to much,” he explained. “I've got a line on Cattley's girl friend. She might turn in some information. This business puzzles me. There is a lot I don't get. Maybe I've been a bit hasty, hiding up that rat. I don't know. This Annabel broad ain't nice. She's dangerous.”
“I wish you hadn't anything to do with it. Sam's worried too.”
Duffy put on his hat. “I gotta see it through now. Don't you worry about Sam, I won't get him into anything.”
“I'm worrying about you.”
“Forget it,” he pleaded; “it's going to come out okay.”
She went with him to the door. “I don't want to be a fuss.”
He patted her shoulder. “You're swell,” he said. “It'll be all right.”
He found Sam sitting at the wheel of a small tourer that had seen better days. Duffy climbed in beside him. “Where's this joint, anyway?” he asked.
Sam let in the clutch with a bang, the car jerked forward, and then stalled. Duffy didn't say anything, he was used to it. Sam pulled the starter, reversed the engine, and let the clutch in again. The car pulled away from the kerb, making a noise like a beehive.
“The Plaza?” Sam said; “it's near Manhattan Bridge.”
“Know the place?” Duffy asked.
“Sure,” Sam said. “This is a hot joint. I used to go there a bit in the old days.” Sam always called the time he was single 'the old days'. “It's tough, and packed with hot pants. You wait.”
Duffy leant back. “Sounds all right,” he said.
Sam drove two blocks in silence, then he said, “You telling me the news?”
Duffy gave him a cigarette. “I looked up Cattley's dump today. Annabel turned up. She was looking for something. She found it, and so did I.” He touched the scratches with his fingers and grinned. “I bet that honey's as mad as a hornet right now.”
Sam swerved to avoid a big Cadillac, grabbed his handbrake and shouted, “You street pushover,” to the fat driver.
Duffy took no notice; he had driven with Sam before. “What did you find?” Sam asked.
“It's a little note-book, full of ritzy names, and it don't mean a thing to me.”
“So?”
“Yeah.” Duffy frowned at his reflection in the driving-screen. “It's important. I know because I had to get tough with Annabel to get her to part. That dame scares me. She ain't normal.”
“I thought you
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