Black Mask (Vol. 33, No. 3 — September 1949)

When they settled into chairs, facing each other across Dango’s desk, Regg’s expression became sad and the captain’s became intent.

“You say you’re worried that your wife may get killed tonight? Why should she die so suddenly as all that? What do you think’s going to happen to her?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea, Captain,” Timothy Regg answered. “I just have a dreadful feeling that some sort of terrible disaster is hanging over her. I just get these hunches every once in a while and it’s sort of uncanny the way every one of them has come true.”

Frowning skeptically, Dango inquired, “As for example?”

“Well, just a few weeks ago the feeling came to me, out of nowhere, that I was going to get hurt somehow. Sure enough, the very next day I happened to slip on the damp floor of the cellar under my shop. I fell and wrenched my shoulder pretty badly.”

“I heard about that,” Dango said evenly. “But in not quite that same way. You didn’t actually slip, did you? Neighborhood gossip says you were knocked fiat by a bottle wielded by your wife during the course of a pretty loud argument — and rumor says further that this wasn’t the first time she’d flattened you.”

Regg’s thin cheeks flushed indignantly. “Why, that’s an unfair exaggeration, Captain! Blossom was there, true, and she did have a bottle in her hand, but that happens very frequently in a liquor store, and she may have nudged me with it accidentally, but really, I assure you, she would never intentionally harm a hair of my head.”

Dango glanced at Regg’s bald pate and did not smile. “Wasn’t she also bawling the hell out of you at the time, or is that rumor exaggerated also?”

“She was just protesting a little, Captain,” Timothy Regg explained quietly, “About the missing case of Scotch, I mean. Strangely enough, that was another queer hunch I’d had — about the Scotch. I’d gotten a feeling only that morning that something might be wrong in the stock room and sure enough, when I checked—”

“You keep your stock room locked, don’t you?” Dango inquired. “Was there any evidence of burglary?”

“None at all, but—” Timothy Regg sat forward earnestly. “Now look here, Captain! Don’t you go and suspect my wife of anything underhanded. It’s true I sometimes leave her alone in charge of the shop, but what of it? She couldn’t possibly have any use for a whole case of Scotch at once — and on the sly too! I’m sure it was just a clerical mistake on my part. Anyway, the only reason I mentioned it was to show you that these hunches of none have a funny way of coming true. They really have, dozens of times. That’s why I’m so worried by my feeling that something horrible might happen to Blossom tonight.”

“Just when did this sense of impending disaster first creep over you, Mr. Regg?” the captain asked carefully.

“It was at five forty-five this afternoon, just after Blossom went hurrying out of my shop. Suddenly I got this ghastly feeling that I might never see her again — that she was hastening off to her death.”

“Then why didn’t you stop her?” Dango asked. “Why aren’t you with her now, protecting her from this danger that’s hovering over her, whatever it is?”

“She was out of sight before I could start after her,” Timothy Regg explained, “and she had left without saying where she was going. I haven’t seen her since, haven’t been able to locate her by phone. That’s why I need your help to find her, so we can both do our best to safeguard her. Besides—”

Noting a brighter gleam in those gun-metal eyes of Timothy Regg’s, Captain Dango cued him alertly, “Yes?”

“Besides, if something should happen to her tonight, I–I want to make sure in advance that I’ll be in the clear.”

Dango said thoughtfully, “Hmmm?”

“I mean I’ve heard that the very first thing the police do when a woman meets with a fatal accident is to suspect her husband of foul play. It wouldn’t be fair to feel that way about me, Captain. I cherish my Blossom very dearly. I want to do my best to keep her safe from all harm. I implore you to help me do that in every possible way. But at the same time, in case something does happen to her tonight, I want to have an iron-clad alibi.”

Dango teetered back in his chair, studying this shiny-eyed little man from under darkly lowered eyebrows. He had begun to suspect that Timothy Regg might be trying to slip over a fast one.

On the other hand Dango could not for a moment ignore the scandalous rumor tying Mrs. Timothy Regg to Len Lennox, the cop-killing fugitive whom he was endeavoring so earnestly to find. Nor, for that matter, could he help being touched by Regg’s look of innocent anxiety and genuine concern.

Sitting up decisively, Captain Dango said, “Mr. Regg, I’m going to turn you right back to Sergeant Kerson. He’ll start things humming for you. Give him a complete description of your wife and a list of all the places where she likes to go. We’ll do all we can to find her and keep her safe.”