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

“That insignificant little worm!” These words were loaded with purest scorn as Blossom spat them out. “Len’s my man. Parkie, if you don’t tell me where I can connect with him—”

“Honey, honest, my heart bleeds for ya, but I swear by all that’s solemn, I can’t tell ya where Len is because I just — don’t — know.”

A moment of frustrated silence followed, and then Blossom said hoarsely, half to herself, “Well, then, there’s one other way I can find out, and I’m goin’ right after it.”

Noiselessly closing the phone booth again. Coombs dialed a number that connected him straight through to the desk of Captain Dango. Rapidly he relayed to the captain the gist of the conversation he had just overheard. The mirror behind the bar showed him the image of Blossom Regg gulping down the last of her drink.

“She’s leaving the booth now, Danny,” Coombs reported, giving it play by play. “She’s heading out the door under full steam. She said she knows a way to find out where Lennox is hiding and she certainly seems to mean business. Here I go again, Danny, keeping her in sight.”

“You and a couple of other guys,” Captain Dango said grimly over the wire just before Coombs hung up. “I’m going to keep this move covered every step of the way.”

Within one minute by the clock an unusual alarm was broadcast over the police headquarters transmitter.

“Calling Car 42. Calling Car 42. Turn immediately into Court Street. Proceed northward along the 300 block. Watch the west side of the street. Spot a woman named Blossom Regg, description previously given. Report back by radio at once.”

Car 42 immediately followed these instructions and had no difficulty spotting Blossom Regg. Just as the radio had said, she was moving along the sidewalk on the west side of the street at a fast clip. At a cautious distance behind her Coombs was striding along in her wake. Blossom was too intent on her purposes to be aware that she was being tailed doubly.

Sergeant Sharp of the radio patrol, one of the two men on duty in Car 42, began giving, over the two-way system, a running account of their quarry’s progress.

“Have picked up Blossom Regg. She is walking rapidly and has just reached corner of Spruce Street. Now she is turning west and crossing street. She is continuing west along Spruce.” The spot news kept flowing in this manner, keeping Captain Dango posted on Blossom’s every step, until finally her course took a significant and crucial turn.

“Now into Beetle Street. She just swung into Beetle Street in the 100 block and is steaming right along...”

Once Dango had grabbed this impatient blonde he could get to work persuading her to tell him just where she had counted on learning the location of Lennox’ hideaway. The captain wasted no time in premature congratulations, however. He strode back into his office, where Timothy Regg was hopefully waiting.

“I think we have her now,” he announced on a pardonable note of gratification. “We’ll go out right now and make sure. Hustle along with me, Mr. Regg, and we’ll have this thing settled in a matter of a few minutes.”

His eyes gleaming blue, Regg went rapidly with Dango down the stairs, out into the dark street and into the front seat of the captain’s official car. Dango whooshed it off at a speed that almost snapped Regg’s hat off his slippery bald head. Without using his siren, but blatting his horn a little to clear other cars out of the street ahead, he kept on driving swiftly with one hand while using the other to switch on the radio. Over it he could hear the running account of Blossom’s progress as it continued to emanate from Car 42.

“She has now reached the middle of the 400 block on Beetle Street and is turning to the door of Number 413. It is Regg’s Liquor Shop. It is entirely dark. She is using a key at the front door.”

Dango glanced sharply at Timothy Regg. Squirming in the seat with anxiety, Regg answered breathlessly, “Of course she has a key. A key to the front door, that’s all, because sometimes she has to lock up. Please, Captain, can’t you drive any faster?” Then he added to himself, in a mutter which Dango couldn’t quite make out, something that sounded like, “Oh, dear, I do hope she remembers not to touch my little black book.”