Manhunt. Volume 2, Number 10, December, 1954

As he came abreast of the desk, he skidded to a stop and turned to face us, one hand at his pocket.

But Fred Spence’s gun was already out. “Don’t try it, Rogers!” he said.

Fred Spence had guessed right. Rogers was a loid-worker, as well as a heroin addict. Once he realized we had him cold — what with proof that the fatal bullet had come from his gun, the garnet ring, and teeth marks in his left forearm — he seemed to take pleasure in telling us about it. The girl had come in a minute or so after he’d let himself into her apartment with his strip of celluloid. He’d jumped her, and tried to choke her, but she’d been stronger than he’d thought. When she’d sunk her teeth into his arm, he’d decided to kill her. He’d then stripped the ring off her finger, dug the wallet out of her purse, and gotten away down the fire stairs.

When Rogers finished with his admission, he mopped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and sneered at me.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Can’t you cheap cops even afford air-conditioning?”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t remind him how much hotter it was in that little chair up at Sing Sing.

To a Wax Doll by Arnold Marmor

There wasn’t any difficulty about finding the dope peddler. It was just a matter of applying a little pressure...

* * *

Barbara lay on her side, facing me, beautiful with the relaxed softness of sleep. My wife was thirty-two, but in sleep she looked no more than twenty. I studied her face a moment, and then, knowing how little it took to wake her, I got out of bed carefully and walked on bare feet to the bathroom. She was still asleep when I finished dressing and left for the station house.

In the squad room, I lifted a container of coffee from Joe Hayes’ desk, and drank half of it.

“Don’t drink it all, Walt,” he said.

“I’m tired of waiting,” I said.

“You talking about Liddie White again?”

“That’s right.”

He frowned. “Don’t get any crazy ideas, Walt. The lieutenant won’t like it.”

“To hell with him.”

“Why don’t you wait a couple of days? Hell, Tim Casey is one of the best men on the force. Liddie wouldn’t be getting dope without his seeing it.”

“She’s getting it somewhere,” I said.

“Maybe she’d stocked up on the stuff. You ever figure that?”

“Sure, I figured it. And I’m still tired of waiting.” I handed the coffee back to him. “I’m going over there.”

Tim Casey was on his way toward my car even before I’d cut the motor. He saluted, grinning at me. “Hello, Sergeant.”

“Hello, Tim. Any action?”

“Not a damn bit. She hasn’t been out at all.”

“Okay. Well, as long as I’m here, we might as well make the most of it. Why don’t you go down the street and have some breakfast? I’ll spell you a while.”

“That’s a hell of a good idea, Sergeant. I’ll make it fast.” He turned and walked off toward the diner at the corner.

I left the car and headed for the brownstone where Liddie White lived. The building was near the middle of the block, flanked by a cut-rate drugstore and a grimy-windowed bar. I climbed three flights of sagging stairs, walked along a dark corridor, and knocked on Liddie’s door.

The door opened a little, showing one gray eye and part of an unnaturally white face. The eye narrowed, and Liddie started to close the door. I got my foot in it.

“Open up, Liddie,” I said.

“What the hell do you want?”

I pulled the door all the way open and stepped inside. Liddie slammed it shut behind me, and then leaned against it, staring at me. “What the hell do you want?” she said again. She was a very pretty woman, Liddie was, even when her gray eyes were angry and the uncombed auburn hair splayed loosely across her back and shoulders. Her body, beneath the thin material of her housecoat, was lush, and she had the smallest waist I’d ever seen.

“Don’t you go out any more, Liddie?” I asked.

“Look, copper. I’ve been a real good girl. You got no right to come barging in here like this.”

“I didn’t barge in,” I said. “You invited me in. You insisted on it. Remember?”

“You’re just like all the others.

You haven’t even got a warrant.”

I smiled at her. “That’s right, Liddie. No warrant. You could probably get me in a lot of trouble.”

She glared at me. “Damn you. You know I can’t get anybody in trouble.”

I nodded. “Just so we understand each other, Liddie.”

“If you’re looking for Horse, you’re wasting your time. There isn’t any here.”

“It’s here,” I said. “It has to be. We’ve had a tail on you for almost two weeks. You haven’t made a buy in all that time. And with a big habit like yours, Liddie, that means you’ve got a supply right here.”

“Since when are cops interested in users? What’ll it get you to hang a beef on me? You think the commissioner will give you a gold star?”

“I’m not interested in you, Liddie. I want your pusher.”

“You crazy? You think I’d cut off my supply?”

“You can always get another. Who’s the guy, Liddie?”