The Leather Duke

Johnson shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, but Piper threw a handful of counters in Carmella’s face and then Carmella beat up Piper.”

“Beat him up, huh? And Carmella quit his job today when Piper came back after a vacation. Mmm,” the lieutenant pursed up his lips. “I suppose you’ve got this Carmella’s address?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll get it for you—”

“In a minute, Mr. Johnson.” Lieutenant Lindstrom suddenly looked at Johnny. “Carmella told you he was quitting his job today, didn’t he?”

Johnny grinned lazily. “You’ll have to do better’n that to catch me, Inspector.”

“Lieutenant!” snapped Lindstrom. His eyes glowed. “Sort of a wise guy, aren’t you?”

“I get by. There was a sign outside the building, Man Wanted. Sam and I saw it and came in. Sam got hired, then Mr. Johnson heard that this Carmella chap had just quit his job and decided to hire me, too. That’s all I know about Carmella. Not one bit more, not one bit less. I never saw Al Piper. I never saw this factory before this morning.” Johnny shot his cuffs back. “I’ve got nothing up my sleeves. Nor has Sam. You’re wasting your time on us.”

Lieutenant Lindstrom bared his teeth. “Get back to work.”

But Johnny didn’t have to get back to his work, just then. A tremendously loud bell rang on the counter floor and every man at the counter benches rushed for the aisles leading to the lockers beyond. Johnny, looking at a huge clock on the wall, saw that both hands had met under the figure twelve. It was lunchtime.

The workmen returned to the benches in a moment or two, carrying lunches, wrapped in newspapers. Lieutenant Lindstrom walked off with Johnson leaving Johnny and Sam alone.

Johnny, his tongue in his cheek, stepped up to young Elliott Towner, who was taking off his work apron. “How about joining us for lunch?”

“I was only going to run across the street to the lunchroom and have a sandwich,” replied Elliott.

“A sandwich is okay with us.”

Elliott looked at Sam, frowning. “Well, all right,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation.

“I worked up a nice appetite,” said Sam, as they headed for the elevator. “Rassling them barrels. I think I’ll have maybe two sandwiches and a glass of beer.”

They rode down in the slow freight elevator. As they passed the office Johnny looked for Nancy Miller but failed to see her. He shook his head and followed Elliott Towner. Outside, they crossed the street and entered a grimy, smelly lunchroom. There were no stools at the counter, but it was lined with standing factory workers. The menu was a slate on the wall.

“Corned beef sandwich and a glass of milk,” Elliott Towner ordered.

“Two corned beef sandwiches for me,” said Johnny, “and a glass of beer.”

“Same for me, on’y two beers,” chimed in Sam.

The sandwiches were quickly prepared and Johnny and Sam began to wolf their food. They finished their double portions before Elliott Towner got through with his one sandwich.

“Piece of pie,” Sam ordered then.

Johnny nodded. “Me, too. How about you, Elliott?”

“No, this will do me.”

The waiter punched three checks, put them on the counter. Elliott sorted them out, picked up his own. A sudden chill ran through Johnny. A dollar-ten was punched on his check, the same on Sam’s.

“Uh, Mr. Towner,” he said. “I believe I’m a little short, on account of just starting work, you know. I wonder if you’d—”

Elliott Towner frowned at him. “Look here, you didn’t come out to lunch with me, just to—”

“Oh, no, not at all. Only we are short and—”

“How much are you short?”

“Well, my check’s a dollar-ten and Sam’s is, too. Two-twenty.”

“That’s the full amount. You’ve got some money...”

“Not a red cent. Uh, you could take it out of our pay.”

Young Towner exploded. “I tried to make it clear to your friend here that I didn’t own the Towner Leather Company. I’m an employee like you. I get twenty dollars a week and I have to live on it.”

“With a little help from the old man,” Johnny said sarcastically, “and the chauffeur to bring you down to work.”

“I’ve had about all I’m going to take from you two,” Elliott said angrily. He started for the door, but Johnny gave a quick signal to Sam Cragg and the latter blocked his exit.

“Just a minute, buddy,” Sam said truculently and put up a hand to stop Elliott. Elliott tried to knock the hand aside, was unable.

“Now, Elliott,” Johnny said, smoothly, “look at it this way. We’ve got a tab here for two-twenty; we can’t pay it. Are you going to let it get out that two employees of Towner and Company were unable to pay a restaurant bill and had to wash dishes all afternoon, while they were supposed to be sorting counters across the street?”

“You’re not my responsibility,” cried Elliott.

“Oh yes, we are,” Johnny said cheerfully. “Your name’s Towner...”

“All right,” snarled Elliott. “I’ll pay your damn checks!” He grabbed them from Johnny’s hand and stepped up to the cashier’s desk. Johnny and Sam waited for him at the door.

As they left the restaurant, Johnny said, “No hard feelings.”

Elliott gave him a glare and rushed across the street.