Kept Women Can’t Quit

“He kept some money in the bank, but he wanted to have money where he could get at it at any hour of day or night — in cash.”

“And so?”

“So from time to time he’d give me thousand-dollar bills. He said they were mine. In that way if he went broke no one could claim this money was his, but I could stake him — if I wanted to.”

“Phooey,” I said, “they’d simply claim the money was his and that—”

“No, Donald, whenever he’d give me these bills he’d take my manicure scissors and cut off just the very smallest piece on the corner... and finally I got fifty of these bills... and then he ran out on me... and I suppose this latest paramour of his is holding the stake.”

“But he gave you title to the money, so the—”

Heavy knuckles sounded on the door.

“Better see who that is,” I said.

She made a gesture of annoyance. “It’s some tradesman or somebody who wants to see my friend. Just a minute.”

She jumped to her feet, switched her skirt into place, walked over to the door with her characteristic long-legged grace, opened it and was pushed back almost off her feet as Frank Sellers shoved his way into the room and slammed the door behind him.

“Hello, Pint Size,” Sellers said to me.

“Well, I like this!” Hazel Downer said angrily. “You have your nerve barging in like this. You—”

Sellers said, “Now then, let’s cut out the monkey business, you two.”

“I don’t care to have you talk to me that way,” Hazel Downer said. “You—”

I interrupted. “Look, Hazel, do you know a good lawyer?”

“Why, yes,” she said.

“Telephone him and tell him to come over here fast,” I said.

Sellers said, “That isn’t going to do either one of you any good. I warned you about this, Donald. I’m going to bust you wide open — and I’m not going to administer an anesthetic while I perform the operation either.”

“Get that lawyer on the phone,” I said to Hazel Downer, “and start working fast.”

Sellers sat down in a chair, crossed his legs, pulled a cigar out of his pocket, bit off the end and spit it into an ash tray. He scraped a match into flame.

Hazel moved toward the telephone. Sellers made a grab at her, circled her with his arm.

“She’s calling a lawyer,” I said. “A citizen has that right. Try stopping her and see what it gets you.”

“Take your hand off my body,” Hazel said.

Sellers hesitated, then took his arm away. “All right, go ahead and call your lawyer. Then I’m going to show you both something.”

Sellers lit his cigar. Hazel made a low-voiced phone call and hung up. Sellers took the cigar out of his mouth, looked Hazel Downer over as she returned to the davenport.

“Well, Bright Eyes,” he said, “you really got yourself in a mess now.”

“Do you have a charge against me?” she asked.

“So far,” Sellers said, “receiving stolen property and criminal conspiracy. I think we can go a step farther and convict you of being an accessory after the fact, attempted extortion, and perhaps a few other things.”

Sellers turned to me. His eyes were burning with suppressed rage. “You double-crossing bastard!”

“What do you mean, double-crossing?”

“I warned you to leave this one alone,” he said.

“You warned me,” I said. “You aren’t the legislature. You aren’t passing the laws. I didn’t double-cross you. I didn’t promise you I’d lay off. I’m running a legitimate business.”

“Says you!”

“Says I,” I said.

Sellers said, “Well, if you folks are finished with the phone I’ll put through a call myself, just to let Headquarters know where I am.”

He went over to the phone, dialed the number of Headquarters, said, “This is Sergeant Sellers. I’m at—” He drew back to look at the number on the telephone, “Hightower 7-74103. It’s an apartment but I don’t know who rents it yet. I’m with Hazel Downer and Donald Lam. I think we’re going to button up the rest of that armored truck case. If you want me, get me here.”

Sellers hung up the phone, came over to where I was sitting on the davenport and stood looming above me, looking down at me ominously.

“I hate to do it on account of Bertha,” he said. “Bertha is a good gal; greedy but square — and she plays fair with the police.

“You’re a two-timing chisler. You always have been. You play both ends against the middle. So far you’ve always come out smelling like a rose. This time it’s going to be different.”

I looked past him to Hazel. “Did you get him?”

“Yes.”

“Is he coming over?”

“Yes.”

“Is he good?”

“The best.”

“How long will it take him to get here?”

“He’s coming right away.”

“How long?”

“Ten minutes. He’s right here in this neighborhood.”

“Do something for me,” I said. “Don’t say a word until your lawyer gets here. Don’t answer any questions. Don’t even say yes or no.”

Sellers said, “That won’t help her, Lam. You don’t know what I know.”

“What do you know?” I asked.

Sellers took a notebook out of his pocket, said, “Hazel Clune, alias Hazel Downer. Living in open and notorious cohabitation with Standley Downer. Standley has a record.”

“A record!” Hazel exclaimed.