The Mike Hammer Collection by Mickey Spillane

me, I’ll be here. Just come and get me.”
    I kissed her again, lightly this time, then went to the door. She handed me my hat and pushed my hair back for me. “Good-bye, Mike.”
    I winked at her. “So long, Charlotte. It was a wonderful supper with a wonderful girl.”
    It was a wonder I got downstairs at all. I hardly remember getting to my car. All I could think of was her face and that lovely body. The way she kissed and the intensity in her eyes. I stopped on Broadway and dropped into a bar for a drink to clear my head. It didn’t help so I went home and hit the sack earlier than usual.

CHAPTER 7
    I woke up before the alarm went off, which is pretty unusual. After a quick shower and shave, I whipped up some scrambled eggs and shoveled them into me. When I was on my second cup of coffee the boy from the tailor shop came in with my suit nicely cleaned and pressed. The pocket was sewed up so that you could never have told it was torn. I dressed leisurely and called the office.
    â€œHammer Investigating Agency, good morning.”
    â€œGood morning yourself, Velda, this is your boss.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œAw, come on, honey,” I pleaded, “quit being sore at me. That lipstick came under the line of business. How can I work when you’ve got me by the neck?”
    â€œYou seem to do all right,” her reply came back. “What can I do for you, Mister Hammer?”
    â€œAny calls?”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œAny mail?”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œAnybody been in?”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œWill you marry me?”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œWell, so long then.”
    â€œMarry? Hey ... wait a minute, Mike. MIKE! Hello ... hello....”
    I hung up very gently, laughing to myself. That would fix her. The next time she’d do more than say “nope.” I’d better start watching that stuff. Can’t afford to trip myself up; though with Velda maybe it wouldn’t be so bad at that.
    The police had taken their watchdog away from Jack’s apartment. The door was still sealed pending further investigation and I didn’t want to get in dutch with the D.A.’s office by breaking it, so I looked around a bit.
    I had just about given up when I remembered that the bathroom window bordered on an air shaft, and directly opposite it was another window. I walked around the hall and knocked on a door. A small, middle-aged gent poked his head out and I flashed my badge on him. “Police,” was all I had to say.
    He didn’t bother looking the badge over, but opened the door in haste. A good respectable citizen that believed in law and order. He stood in front of me, clutching a worn smoking jacket around his pot belly and trying to look innocent. Right then he was probably thinking of some red light he ran a month ago, and picturing himself in the line-up.
    â€œEr ... yes, officer, what can I do for you?”
    â€œI’m investigating possible entries into the apartment of Mr. Williams. I understand you have a window that faces his. Is that right?”
    His jaw dropped. “Wh-why, yes, but nobody could have gone through our window without us seeing him.”
    â€œThat isn’t the point,” I explained to him. “Somebody could have come down from the roof on a rope. What I want to do is see if that window can be opened from the outside. And I don’t want to shinny down a rope to do it.”
    The guy sighed with relief. “Oh, I see. Well, of course, just come this way.” A mousey-type woman stuck her head from the bedroom door and asked, “John, what is it?”
    â€œPolice,” he told her importantly. “They want me to help them.” He led me to the bathroom and I pushed up the window. It was some job. Those modest folks, fearing somebody might peek, must never have had it open. When it went up, a shower of paint splinters fluttered to the floor.
    There was Jack’s bathroom