mouth, studied it with a heavy scowl, tossed it away and said, “You’re not waiting for that, are you?”
“I’m waiting for anything that turns up.”
Gentry hesitated, then asked, “Have you seen today’s News?”
“No.”
The elevator stopped and they got in. Gentry said in an undertone, “You’re not going to like it. Even Tim Rourke is beginning to wonder why you’re so stubborn about keeping the racket information to yourself.”
They stepped out of the elevator and Shayne said, “To hell with Rourke.”
“But that’s what everybody’s asking,” Gentry argued as they stepped out onto the street. “Look at the spot it puts me in. I let you get yourself killed… the only witness in a murder and racketeering set-up. So you’re a goddamned hero and I’m the goat. And the boys go on merrily running their Black Market.”
“We’re making progress,” Shayne assured him. “We’re smoking them out. We’ve got a description of the guy who took a pot-shot at me, and I’ll know Gene if I ever see him again. We know they use a motorboat. And you’ve got a .45 that you can check against the bullets in that kid hobo’s body. The one who visited me early this morning. And you’ve got Pat’s corpse. Anything on him?”
“Not a damned thing. We’re checking on his prints, but as far as I know he’s not hooked up with any local outfit.”
“We wouldn’t have a damn one of those leads if I hadn’t stuck my neck out,” Shayne reminded him wearily. “You know I’m right. The minute I talk they’ll pull in their horns and go into hiding. As long as they have only one man to kill, they’ll keep on trying.”
Gentry was sullen as they walked toward Shayne’s car. He said, “I’m pulling Peterson and McNulty off their assignment. If you’re going to be a pigheaded fool there’s no use making the department look any sillier than necessary.”
“Thanks. That’ll save me the trouble of ditching them,” Shayne agreed. “I’ve got a six o’clock date and I don’t need any chaperons.”
“A date? You mean female stuff?” Gentry frowned.
“Yeh. I got to get some stuff to put on my upper lip.”
Gentry grunted. “Here’s a drugstore. I’ll wait out here while you get something to make yourself pretty.”
Shayne grinned painfully and turned into the drugstore, went back to the prescription department and spoke to the druggist. “Got anything that’ll help this lip of mine?”
The druggist examined the wound carefully, said, “I think I’ve got something that’ll fix you up.” He stepped from his cage and went to a row of shelves in the rear, took down a small carton, and handed it to Shayne. “Massage the lip at thirty-minute intervals. It’s the best thing I’ve found for bruises.”
Shayne said, “Thanks,” and paid the bill on his way out.
Gentry was waiting. He said, “There’s another thing… your other witness isn’t going to hold out very long.”
Shayne leaned against the building and opened the package, which contained a jar of yellowish salve. He smeared it on his lips slowly and thoughtfully, said, “You mean Carlton?”
“Yeh. He called up after reading about that rifle attack on you this morning. Wanted to know if that was a sample of the police protection I could give. And he’s called three times since noon wanting you. He’ll cave in when he hears about the fun you had at Tahiti.”
Shayne said grimly, “I’ll see that he doesn’t cave in.” He tossed the small carton toward the gutter and put the jar of salve in his pocket.
Gentry squinted up at him and asked, “What about this date you’ve got with a dame?”
“A gal I met today. A she-lawyer. One of those dames that look cold and intellectual, yet something tells you she’s nothing but a bottled-up volcano. Know what I mean? Ready to go off like a firecracker if a man lights the fuse.”
“I suppose you think you can light the fuse?”
Shayne grinned. The salve was beginning
“I’m waiting for anything that turns up.”
Gentry hesitated, then asked, “Have you seen today’s News?”
“No.”
The elevator stopped and they got in. Gentry said in an undertone, “You’re not going to like it. Even Tim Rourke is beginning to wonder why you’re so stubborn about keeping the racket information to yourself.”
They stepped out of the elevator and Shayne said, “To hell with Rourke.”
“But that’s what everybody’s asking,” Gentry argued as they stepped out onto the street. “Look at the spot it puts me in. I let you get yourself killed… the only witness in a murder and racketeering set-up. So you’re a goddamned hero and I’m the goat. And the boys go on merrily running their Black Market.”
“We’re making progress,” Shayne assured him. “We’re smoking them out. We’ve got a description of the guy who took a pot-shot at me, and I’ll know Gene if I ever see him again. We know they use a motorboat. And you’ve got a .45 that you can check against the bullets in that kid hobo’s body. The one who visited me early this morning. And you’ve got Pat’s corpse. Anything on him?”
“Not a damned thing. We’re checking on his prints, but as far as I know he’s not hooked up with any local outfit.”
“We wouldn’t have a damn one of those leads if I hadn’t stuck my neck out,” Shayne reminded him wearily. “You know I’m right. The minute I talk they’ll pull in their horns and go into hiding. As long as they have only one man to kill, they’ll keep on trying.”
Gentry was sullen as they walked toward Shayne’s car. He said, “I’m pulling Peterson and McNulty off their assignment. If you’re going to be a pigheaded fool there’s no use making the department look any sillier than necessary.”
“Thanks. That’ll save me the trouble of ditching them,” Shayne agreed. “I’ve got a six o’clock date and I don’t need any chaperons.”
“A date? You mean female stuff?” Gentry frowned.
“Yeh. I got to get some stuff to put on my upper lip.”
Gentry grunted. “Here’s a drugstore. I’ll wait out here while you get something to make yourself pretty.”
Shayne grinned painfully and turned into the drugstore, went back to the prescription department and spoke to the druggist. “Got anything that’ll help this lip of mine?”
The druggist examined the wound carefully, said, “I think I’ve got something that’ll fix you up.” He stepped from his cage and went to a row of shelves in the rear, took down a small carton, and handed it to Shayne. “Massage the lip at thirty-minute intervals. It’s the best thing I’ve found for bruises.”
Shayne said, “Thanks,” and paid the bill on his way out.
Gentry was waiting. He said, “There’s another thing… your other witness isn’t going to hold out very long.”
Shayne leaned against the building and opened the package, which contained a jar of yellowish salve. He smeared it on his lips slowly and thoughtfully, said, “You mean Carlton?”
“Yeh. He called up after reading about that rifle attack on you this morning. Wanted to know if that was a sample of the police protection I could give. And he’s called three times since noon wanting you. He’ll cave in when he hears about the fun you had at Tahiti.”
Shayne said grimly, “I’ll see that he doesn’t cave in.” He tossed the small carton toward the gutter and put the jar of salve in his pocket.
Gentry squinted up at him and asked, “What about this date you’ve got with a dame?”
“A gal I met today. A she-lawyer. One of those dames that look cold and intellectual, yet something tells you she’s nothing but a bottled-up volcano. Know what I mean? Ready to go off like a firecracker if a man lights the fuse.”
“I suppose you think you can light the fuse?”
Shayne grinned. The salve was beginning
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