Manhunt. Volume 9, Number 1, February 1961

“There’s just one reason for all this, if you ain’t already guessed it, pal. You never heard of Mavis Blair, and you ain’t lookin’ for her.”

Baldy moved around the end of the desk and reached for the top drawer on that side. He hesitated as Delaney’s muscles tensed and warned, “Don’t be a damn fool.”

Delaney’s eyes slid to the twisted figure midway between his desk and the door. The knuckles of the claw like hand were white around the Luger.

“Go ahead,” the figure invited.

Delaney cursed and froze in his chair.

Without taking his eyes from Delaney, Baldy eased the drawer open and removed Delaney’s .45. He slipped the magazine clip from the handle and worked the slide, ejecting the cartridge from the chamber. He hefted the gun on the palm of his hand, half turning as though to leave the desk, then wheeled and with a full arm swing slammed the gun in Delaney’s face.

The room exploded in a red haze as Delaney went over backwards in his chair. A club like fist smashed into his belly with the force of a sledge hammer. Delaney retched and tried to roll free. But Baldy straddled him with arms working like pistons. Delaney tried to lash out with his foot, but a massive knee pinned his legs to the floor. He could only cover his face with his arms and roll his upper body from side to side as heavy, jarring blows smashed into his rib cage. Then the barrel of the Luger landed on his head and Delaney fell into a bottomless pit of black silence.

The black silence changed to a gray silence, then to a silence filled with light and pain. Delaney opened his eyes. The two men were gone. He dragged himself to his feet and staggered into the reception room. Delaney swore bitterly.

Elsie lay where she had been slung across the leather sofa. Her hands were bound behind her back with adhesive tape. Her ankles were crossed and similarily bound, and a wide strip of adhesive was plastered across her mouth. Her dress and slip were caught up across her thighs and she writhed with shame. Her eyes were wild with hate.

A cold rage filled Delaney as he pulled Elsie’s dress down and ripped the adhesive from her mouth.

“Goddamnit, Delaney, can’t you protect me even in your own office?” Elsie stormed, tears of helpless anger streaming down her face.

“Take it easy, baby. Take it easy,” Delaney stripped the adhesive from her wrists and ankles.

“You get those filthy pigs!” Elsie sobbed and shuddered with revulsion.

“I’ll get them. Don’t worry — I’ll get them, baby,” Delaney promised, his voice thick, grating.

“Oh, Al—! Why—? What was it all about?” Elsie wept.

Delaney sank into her chair and pulled her phone across the desk. He dialed and fought back a wave of nausea. While the receiver made its usual sounds in his ear, he said:

“I don’t know, Elsie. It ties in with that Eunice Blair.”

Then a tired voice at the other end of the line said, “Yeah—?”

“Hello, Gus. This is Al Delaney. Two guys just worked me over and wrecked my office. I want to make a locate on them.”

“The hell you say—!” Surprised, Gus’ voice lost its lethargy. “Who were they?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen either of them before, but they shouldn’t be hard to find.” Tersely Delaney described the pair.

“Can do,” Gus said after a pause. “Where are you now?”

“I’m still in my office.”

“Okay, Al. Wait there. I’ll call you back inna hour.”

Delaney wearily pushed the phone away. Elsie had regained her composure. She said contritely:

“I’m sorry, Al. I didn’t mean to carry on like that. I... I just couldn’t help it.”

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” Delaney’s voice was grim as he rose from her chair. His face was pale under the tan and his eyes glittered. He asked, “Just one thing — did that Eunice leave an address?”

“No, but she did give me a phone number where she can be reached.”

“Good.” Delaney went to the wash basin in the cloak closet. He tore off his tie and started to unbutton his shirt, then turned solicitously:

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off—”

“Oh no,” Elsie protested. “I’m all right, Al.”

“Okay. Then go rest for a while and fix yourself up. When you get back, get Eunice on the phone. Have her here in the morning.”

When Elsie left the office, Delaney stripped to his waist, splashed cold water over his head and face. His face was bruised on one side, his teeth in his upper jaw ached with a dull throb and his body was mottled with angry red blotches where the hammer like fists had bruised his flesh. He took a sponge bath and dressed.

Delaney put the file drawers back in the cabinet and straightened up the office as well as he could without trying to sort and refile the papers. He loaded the .45, slipped on his harness and nested the gun under his arm. He had just finished when the phone in the reception room rang.

Gus wasted no words. “The big ape is a slob named Kostka — strictly strong arm. The gunsel is Ziggy Weitzel. Watch out for him. He’s got a monkey on his back and he’s unpredictable. I hear the boys are working for a syndicate — dope, smut and flesh. So be careful.”