The Leather Duke

They walked swiftly down Madison and a few minutes later turned South on Michigan. The fourteen-story building housing the Lakeside Athletic Club was just ahead.

Johnny turned into the club door, Sam crowding at his heels. A uniformed doorman looked inquiringly at them.

“Yes?”

“We’re going in to join Mr. Towner,” Johnny said easily and would have gone through the inner door, except that the doorman moved a few inches and blocked his path.

“He’s expecting you?”

“I rather think so.”

The doorman reached to a high, narrow desk and scooped up a handful of slips of paper. He shuffled quickly through them. “There’s no pass here.”

“He probably forgot to leave one.”

“I’ll have to get an okay from him,” the doorman said, picking up a phone. “Who shall I say is calling?”

“Mr. Fletcher and Mr. Cragg,” gritted Johnny through his teeth.

“Michigan door, for Mr. Towner,” the doorman said into the phone. “I believe he’s in the steam room, now.” He nodded, looked at Johnny and Sam. “Club rules, gentlemen. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, we don’t mind,” said Johnny, pretending not to see Sam’s warning signal.

The doorman turned back to his telephone. “Yes, Mr. Towner, Arthur, at the Michigan door. There’s a Mr. Fletcher and Mr. Cragg here, say you’re expecting them. No...? Just a moment, please.” He covered the mouthpiece with a big hand. “Mr. Towner says he doesn’t know anyone named Fletcher and Cragg.”

“We’re from the plant,” Johnny said. “Tell him that. It’s important that we see him. Extremely important.”

The doorman spoke into the phone. “They say it’s an extremely urgent matter, Mr. Towner... Very well, sir...” He handed the phone to Johnny.

Drawing a quick, deep breath, Johnny said: “Mr. Towner, this is Johnny Fletcher...”

“And who the devil is Johnny Fletcher?” boomed the deep voice of Harry Towner.

“I’m from the factory,” Johnny said, in desperation, “I... I have something very important to tell you about that — regarding what happened at the plant this morning.”

There was a moment’s pause, then Harry Towner grunted. “All right, give me Arthur.”

Johnny handed the phone back to the doorman.

“Yes, Mr. Towner?” said the doorman. He bobbed his head. “Very well, sir. Thank you.”

He hung up the phone, scribbled quickly on a slip of paper and banged his palm on a bell on the desk. “Front!” he called.

A bellboy appeared from the lobby behind the little reception room. The doorman handed the slip to him. “Take these gentlemen to Mr. Towner in the steam room.”

“This way,” said the bellboy.

Johnny and Sam followed him into a large lobby, fitted out much like a hotel lobby. The bellboy headed swiftly for the elevators.

“Watch my cues,” Johnny whispered to Sam Cragg as they followed the bellboy. “I asked for Towner and got the old Duke, instead of Elliott...”

“Holy cats!” exclaimed Sam.

“They can’t do more’n throw us out.”

They stepped into the elevator and were whisked up to the fourth floor where the bellboy led Johnny and Sam along a corridor and finally into a huge room containing a fifty foot swimming pool and numerous steam rooms and cubicles where masseurs and attendants gave club members treatments.

The bellboy stopped a moment, looked around and located Harry Towner. The Leather Duke was wearing a towel about his waist and nothing else. The bellboy headed for him.

“Mr. Towner, these are the gentlemen to see you,” he said and went off.

Harry Towner searched the faces of Johnny and Sam, then shook his head. “You say you’re from the plant? I don’t place either of you.”

“The counter department,” Johnny said.

“That’s Hal Johnson’s floor.”

“Our boss.”

“You mean you’re — you’re laborers?”

Johnny pushed out his lips in a great pout, looked down at his hands, then suddenly looked up and beamed at The Leather Duke. “Shall we say we’re working as laborers?”

Towner scowled. “What do you mean?”

“There was a murder at your plant today, wasn’t there?”

Towner stabbed a nicely manicured forefinger at Johnny. “Now, don’t tell me you’re police undercover men?”

Johnny closed one eye. You couldn’t exactly call it a wink, because he kept the lid down for a long moment. “Mr. Towner, there are some things I can’t tell you — not at this moment. Shall we just say that — that we’re working as laborers at your plant and that we, ah, have important information pertaining to what happened there this morning?”

“Now, wa-ait a minute,” cried the leather man. “That plant happens to be my personal property. If there are any shenanigans going on there, I have a right to know...”

“Exactly, sir. And that’s why we’re here.”

“Well, spill it, don’t just stand there throwing hints at me.”

“It’ll take a little while to tell. Were you, ah, about to take a plunge?”

“I just had a steam and a rubdown. I intend to have my dinner and then... say, you can tell me this over dinner. I’ll be dressed in just a minute. You’ve got the time?”

“We’ve got the time,” said Johnny.