Black Mask (Vol. 22, No. 2 — Mary 1939)

The one at the right crowded him a little. “What happened when you knocked off Groh? How come you ran for it? The boss had that other apartment upstairs in the next house, all fixed for a hide-out — gun and all. You’d of had plenty of time to get back to it if you knocked off the dame too. Instead you had to mess it all up!”

Paul’s eyes were glittering. If he could only maintain silence for a while longer, these men would spill the whole story.

“It’s a cinch now,” the man at his left said. “I don’t hear no police sirens. We must have made a clean getaway. I—”

With sudden, disconcerting swiftness, he swept up his right arm and brushed the hat from Paul’s head. At the same time he reached across and pinioned Paul’s gun hand.

“Look, Fatty!” he said to the man at Paul’s right. “This ain’t Baby Face!”

Fatty said, “Well, ain’t that funny!” He turned in his seat, and a gun appeared magically in his paw. He thrust it into Paul’s side. “O.K., sucker, you can drop the rod.”

Paul let go of the automatic and it clattered to the floor of the car.

Fatty peered closely at Paul. “Looks like I made a mistake. When I seen the girl go in there with this guy, I would of swore it was Baby Face. But that was because I didn’t get a good look at his face. The boss will like to hear about this.”

The man at Paul’s left said to the chauffeur, “Pull up some place, Tony. I got to phone the boss.”

They were far over on the east side, near the river, and Tony drove for two blocks before coming to a Bar and Grille. Fatty said, “Don’t be long, Gaga. We can’t take no chances with this bird. Maybe he’s even a dick.”

Gaga got out and went in to the Bar and Grille. Fatty kept the gun at Paul’s side, and continued to look at him silently. Paul fidgetted.

Tony turned around and studied him. “You know, Fatty, I think this is the guy that really knocked off Groh. The alarm covers him. I bet he got the gun.”

Fatty shrugged. “If he has, the boss will get it out of him.”

Paul couldn’t think of anything to say. But out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a small coupe that passed them very slowly. And he barely repressed a gasp. For the driver of that coupe was Helen Hastings. She had somehow managed to follow them.

Neither Fatty nor Tony paid any attention to the coupe. They were both certain that they had lost any possible pursuit. Fatty said, “Whatsamatter, sucker? Getting nervous?”

Just then Gaga came out of the Bar and Grille. He got in the car. “The boss wants us we should bring this guy up to the joint, Tony.”

Tony nodded, and got the sedan going. They drove north for almost a mile, then cut across town toward Riverside Drive. Twice they passed traffic policemen, and each time Fatty pressed the gun a little closer against Paul’s ribs, but said nothing. Paul understood.

He had seen Helen’s coupe once more, when they passed her, and he knew she was following them again. She couldn’t know that he was a prisoner. She must be thinking that he had shot Fowler, for she certainly hadn’t taken the time to stop and examine the detective. She believed now that he was part of Frenchy Peck’s gang. She was waiting to see where they went. Would she call the police then? Or would she attempt some reckless move on her own hook?

There was a pitying look in Fatty’s eyes now. “Some sucker!” he said. “What did you think it would get you — messing around in Frenchy’s business?”

Paul said, “Listen, you guys. I’m only a vacuum cleaner salesman. I don’t know a thing about Frenchy or his business—”

Tony, in the driver’s seat, gurgled with pleasure. “Haw! A vacuum cleaner salesman! Tie that, Gaga!”

Gaga was extremely tall, and very thin. His face was a little crooked, as if it had grown too much on the left side, and not enough on the right. Where he had acquired the name Gaga, Paul couldn’t fathom. He laughed, too.

“The boss will think it is a very good joke!”

They stopped in front of an apartment house, on Riverside Drive. “O.K.,” said Gaga. “Out!”

Fatty got out first, and stood with his gun close at his side. Gaga got a gun out too, and pushed Paul out to the curb. Then he followed.

“Maybe you wanna try to make a break?” he asked hopefully.

Tony called out from behind the wheel, “Hey, Gaga! Don’t look now. But there’s a small coupé with a dame in it. It’s going by now. See? She’s slowing up at the corner. I think she’s been behind us for a while.”

Gaga threw a quick side glance down the street. “Maybe she’s tailed us. Maybe not. Watch her, Tony. If she looks like she’s interested in us, bring her up!”

Then they pushed Paul between them, and headed into the house. There was only one self-service elevator here, and they took it up to the ninth floor. Gaga had a key to one of the doors on the ninth floor, and they entered a vacant apartment.

Paul looked about him, not understanding. There wasn’t a stick of furniture in the place. Fatty saw his look of bewilderment, and giggled.