Tough as Nails: The Complete Cases of Donahue From the Pages of Black Mask by Frederick Nebel

She said you must have got it when you carved Crosby.”
    The big man lunged towards Donahue, brought up against Donahue’s gun. His eyes were shining dagger points in the slits of flesh.
    “How the hell did you muscle in on this?”
    Donahue smiled. “Open season, Babe…. Don’t shove your belly too hard against this rod.”
    The big man sucked in a huge breath, held it, then let it gush out boisterously. “Damn it, I didn’t carve Crosby! Irene’s a liar!”
    “Punk, Babe. You called on Crosby, turned the joint inside out and carved him. That’s open and shut. You were seen going in…. Now where is it?”
    “I don’t know! I haven’t got it! Irene or Alfred’s got it. And she’s a liar if she said I carved Crosby. I was down there. All right, I was down there. What the hell of it? I was Crosby’s bootlegger. I was before he went to Paris. He called me up when he came back. I brought him around three bottles of Scotch because my runner was out. I never run around with the stuff ordinary. But Crosby was a good buyer.”
    Donahue wrinkled his brown forehead. “You might have been his bootlegger, Babe, but you got in on something bigger. You had something to do with this racket the woman and Alfred’re in on. You’re Irene’s boy friend. You and Irene double-crossed Alfred.”
    “Say, fella, you know a hell of a lot about this.”
    “I get around, Babe.”
    The big man tied his face up in puzzled wrinkles. “I’m damned if you’re a stoolie! You’re getting more like plain-clothes every minute!”
    “Do you come across, big boy, or do I put through a telephone call? If you didn’t slice Crosby you know who did.”
    “So you’re a dick, eh? So you’re a dick?” The big man scowled darkly, snarled, “You can go to hell! If you think I’m a red-hot, you’re all wet.”
    The telephone bell jangled. Donahue started towards it, then motioned the big man over.
    He said, “Sit down and answer it.”
    “Me with manacles?”
    “I’ll hold the receiver for you.”
    The big man sat down at the library table. Donahue took off the receiver, placed it near the big man’s ear, put his own ear near it.
    Irene’s voice said, “Babe!”
    Babe said, “Yeah.”
    “I’m coming over! I’ve got to see you! I’ll be over in twenty minutes!”
    Donahue whispered, “Tell her sure, Babe.”
    Babe grumbled, “Sure, come on.”
    “Oh, Babe, I’ve had one hell of a time! I’m all in! But I’ll be over—in twenty minutes.”
    “Sure, Irene.”
    Donahue hung up saying, “This is sure a break, Babe. Now be a strong silent man…. So you and the broad have been two-timing on Alfred all along, eh?”
    “——for you.”
    “And you think I’m a dick, eh?”
    “I don’t know what you are. I’m beginning to think again you’re a stoolie doublecrossing the cops.”
    Donahue chuckled drily. “We’ll wait and see what Irene thinks about it.” He took out a key-ring. “I’m going to plant you in that easy chair facing the door. Your hands are going to be manacled in front, and there’ll be a newspaper over them. You stay in the chair, taking it easy: the prosperous bootlegger at home. I’ll be in the bedroom watching you. One step out of turn and you get the works.”
    “I’d give a thousand bucks to know just what you are, guy.”
    Donahue laughed good-naturedly. “Hell, what a piker you turned out to be!”
    The big man growled petulantly, “Jeeze, you’re an aggravating kinda guy!”
Chapter VII
    When the door-bell rang the man called Babe was sitting in an easy-chair with a newspaper lying across his lap.
    Donahue said, “When she knocks, just say come in to her. Don’t get up.”
    “You’re boss just now, fella.”
    “Okey.” Donahue walked to the corridor door, pressed a brass button on a brass plate beside it. Then he unlocked the door. The entrance to the bedroom was to the left of the corridor door as one came in, and one entering would be unable to look into the bedroom until he