The Cop on the Corner by David Goodis Page B

follow up his leads. Within twenty-four hours he promised to bring in the murderer of Jimmie Renzelli. And he insisted that because of the peculiarities surrounding the case, he must go at this task alone. Finally he got what he wanted. Headquarters told Elrick to go out and see what he could do.

         In the outside office Reeve was sitting on the edge of a desk, wise-cracking with a few reporters. The detective looked Elrick up and down. “Well, at least you're taking it with a smile,” Reeve said. “You really didn't expect them to let you handle it, did you?”

         The smile on Elrick's features took on a decided subtlety.

         “No, I really didn't expect it at all,” he said.

         He walked out and stepped into a green- and-white bandit-chaser. He slammed into first and he was doing forty around a corner and fifty down a narrow street and fifty-five around another corner. He switched on the siren and a horse became frightened and a peddler started to curse as tomatoes went splashing over the side of his wagon. Only then did Elrick slow down.

         Elrick finally parked the coupe and stepped out. He walked along a line of four- story tenements and then he looked up at an address. The front door was open and Elrick walked into a dark hallway and went up two flights of steps. An old woman came out of a room and looked at him hatefully.

         “Whatchoo want?”

         “I'm looking for a Miss Gladys Melvin.”

         “She not live here. She move.”

         “When?”

         “I no know.”

         Elrick pushed the cap back on his head and returned the old woman's bitter gaze with a scowl.

         “Show me that girl's room or I'll lock you up.”

         The old woman cringed. She moved down to the far end of the hall. It was dark down there. The wallpaper was a mess. The door was splintered and the floor sagged.

         “In there,” she said. She made a face at Elrick as if she was getting ready to spit. In spite of himself the big cop winced. He waited until she had gone, then opened the door.

         He walked into a small room even dirtier and more sorrowful than the hallway. It was small and the single window hadn't been washed for a year. There was a chair and a dresser and a bed. And on the bed was a girl in her late twenties. She had yellow hair. She wore a dress that at one time had been something to see. Now it was a rag. She was resting face down and there was an alcoholic rhythm to her respiration. On the floor was an empty gin bottle.

         He closed the door and walked to the bed. For a few moments he looked down at the girl, shaking his head slowly. He was remembering when she had been a kid in pigtails, running gaily home from school.

         There was a pitcher of water on the dresser. He grabbed it, dipped fingers into the pitcher and gently turned the girl's head. His fingers flicked water.

         Her eyes opened. They were pale blue. They blinked and then they narrowed. Gladys sat up, looked at the dark blue uniform and mechanically she was on the defensive.

         “What do you want?”

         “I'm Officer Elrick. Sure, Gladys. Sure, you remember me.”

         “I don't know from nothin'.” She was no longer in an alcoholic fog. This was a cop.

         “What am I supposed to do—sing a song?”

         “You used to be able to do that pretty well. You had a good voice. Used to sing in a night club, didn't you? Sure. Jimmie Renzelli's place.”

         Gladys' features grew white. Her lower lip shivered slightly.

         “Yeah, I used to sing there,” she said.

         “About two years ago, wasn't it?”

         “Yeah.”

         “Sure, I remember. That was a nice place Renzelli had. A real nice place.”

         “Yeah.”

         “I went there a lot of nights when I was off duty. You know why? I liked to hear you sing. I