Figure it Out For Yourself

'Some cop's cleaned his buttons, and the whole force's gone on strike,' I said sourly and hung up.

I came out into the quiet and cool of the store again. The clerk was standing on a stool so that he could see over the heads of the crowd. By now they were jammed up against his windows. It looked as if I'd have trouble in getting out.

'The Feds have arrived,' he told me, sucking in his breath excitedly. 'But this has wiped their eyes. That guy Brandon's a smart cop. Best Captain of Police we've ever had.'

'How do I get out of here?' I said impatiently after trying to shove through a bunch of backs facing me in the doorway.

'You don't want to get out, do you? Grab a stool. You won't get a better view than here.'

'View of what?'

He frowned down at me.

'Maybe they'll bring him out. Maybe that Dedrick dame will come down to look him over. Anything can happen. I wish my girl was here. She'd love this.'

'Is there a back way out of here?'

'Through that door.Takes you into Orchid Boulevard.'

As I jerked open the door, the crowd lurched back. There came a tremendous crash of breaking glass as one of the plate-glass windows of the store gave up the unequal struggle.

I didn't wait to see what the damage was. A passage at the back of the store brought me to a dark alley that led eventually to Orchid Boulevard.

Mifflin had a small house on Westwood Avenue. He lived with his wife, two children, a Boxer dog, two white cats and a bullfinch. Apart from his police duties, he was a highly domes- ticated man, and rumour had it he was even more scared of his wife than he was of Brandon.

I decided to go out there and wait for him. I was determined to see him tonight, come rain, come sunshine, so I drove out there and parked before his front door.

The time was twenty minutes past ten. I had no idea when he went off duty, but with the rumpus going on at Head quarters he was pretty certain to be late.

I settled down with a cigarette and prepared for a long wait. There was a light showing in one of the lower rooms of the house, and from time to time I saw a woman's shadow on the blind. Around quarter to eleven the light went out, and then a light flashed up in one of the upper rooms. After a while that went out in its turn, and the house was dark.

I closed my eyes and tried not to think about Perelli. I didn't want to get any false ideas until I knew more facts. Franco was probably right when he said Brandon would have more than the gun on Perelli. It was my bet someone had tipped the police: someone with an eye on the twenty-five grand; a temp- tation to anyone to manufacture a few lies if he could.

A car came grinding up the hill. A few seconds later head-lights came through the windshield to dazzle me, and a car came to a standstill.

I poked my head hopefully out of the window. It was Mifflin all right. He was looking out of his window, a scowl on his face.

'Take that lump of rusty iron out of my way and drop it in the sea,' he said testily. 'You're blocking my gates.'

'Hello, Tim,' I said, and got out of the Buick.

He gaped at me.

'What the hell are you doing here?'

I opened his car door, slid in and sat beside him.

'Felt lonely, so I thought I'd cheer myself up with your com-pany.'

'Beat it! I've had enough for one night. I'm going to bed.'

'Let's have it, Tim. Why did Brandon pick up Perelli?'

'So you know that, do you?' Mifflin snorted. 'Read about it in the morning newspapers and don't bother me. I've had all I want of it for one night. They've gone crazy down there like a lynch mob.'

'I know. I've seen them. Now look, Tim, Perelli happens to be a friend of mine. He didn't kidnap Dedrick. It's not his line.'

Mifflin groaned.

'Gimme a butt. I've smoked all mine.'

I gave him a cigarette and lit it for him.

'Do you think he's the kidnapper?'

'I don't know. Maybe, but probably not. Was it you who sent Francon down?'

'Yeah. Did he get in?'

'Can you imagine anyone keeping him out? He got in, all right. I reckon he saved Perelli's life. They were certainly working over him.'

'Was it a tip?'

Mifflin nodded.

'Yah. And that's what makes me think it's a phoney. Whoever it was, asked for Brandon; nobody else would do. Brandon talked to him. This guy wouldn't say who he was, and that means he's gypped himself out of the reward. To me that stinks. No one in their right senses would pass up a reward that big unless he was scared of getting involved. He told Brandon to go right away to Perelli's apartment, where he'd find the death gun down the side of a settee and other evidence that would pin the kidnapping on to Perelli. Brandon tried to find out who he was, but he got jittery and hung up. We've traced the call to a call-box in Coral Gables, but that's as far as we've got.'

'Someone who must hate Perelli's guts.'

'Could be, or maybe one of the kidnappers with cold feet. I don't know. Anyway, Brandon made the pinch himself. Know what he found?'

'He found the gun.'