Tiger By The Tail

"He's taking care of it. You know, Paul, you're making a hell of a fuss about the killing of this woman. Who cares, anyway?"

"You'll care when you see the press tomorrow morning," Howard said grimly. "Got any leads yet?" he went on to Adams.

"We have a description of a guy who could have done it," Adams said. "Donovan's working on it, now."

"Donovan? You should be working on it," Howard said violently. "Donovan . . . !" He stopped short, scowled down at the desk and then shrugged.

Motley watched him and concealed a grin.

Donovan was Motley's special pet. Howard and Motley had clashed over him before, and Adams knew it. He knew also that Gloria had been used to save Donovan from returning to a beat, and Howard wasn't likely to start trouble for Donovan again, unless he was forced to.

"Donovan's a good guy," Motley said, patting his heavy paunch. Although he was only thirty-eight, lack of exercise, heavy drinking and gross feeding had thickened his figure, making him look a lot older than he was. "We don't often get a murder case, and this could be Donovan's chance. I want him to re-establish himself. The press has been picking on him for months. It's time he had a chance to show what he can do."

"This isn't a one-man police force," Howard said, controlling his temper with difficulty. "I want every man working on it. We've got to nab this killer, Joe."

"Sure, sure," Motley said indifferently. He got slowly to his feet. "Well, I've got to run along. I'm going to the club tonight and I've got to get a haircut. Gloria said she'd be at the dance. You coming?"

"We have a murder on our hands, Joe."

Motley stared at him.

"So what? That doesn't mean you and I can't go to the dance does it? What the hell have we got Adams for? He'll take care of it."

"You go. I have things to do," Howard said curtly.

"Gloria won't like it. She's relying on you."

Howard started to say something, then stopped. To cover his embarrassment, he stubbed out his cigar which was only half burned.

"It's up to you, of course," Motley went on.

"Well, I'll see how things work out. Maybe I'll look in later."

"Suit yourself," Motley said. "But there's no point in letting all the young punks fight over her. You know what it's like when she goes to a dance on her own. I have my own dish to look after."

Adams, watching and listening, saw Howard's face tighten, and he knew Motley had hit him where it hurt.

The fool! Adams thought contemptuously. What a sucker he is for a woman! He's scared stiff some young husky will make a pass when he's not looking. If I were a slave like he is to that little bitch I'd shoot myself!

When Motley had gone, Howard turned his attention to Adams. He realized Adams had heard a lot more than he cared for him to know, and he glared at Adams angrily.

But the Lieutenant looked as if he was either asleep or miles away somewhere with his thoughts and his complete lack of interest somewhat reassured Howard.

"What are you doing about this killing, Adams?"

Adams gave an elaborate start, blinked at the Commissioner and his face became alert.

"I'm following the usual procudure sir. You have my report on the desk. There are no clues. We have a description of a man whom we believe went to her apartment about the time she died. Donovan is working on that angle. The killing of a prostitute is always a tricky nut to crack. There seems to have been no motive. Nothing was taken."

"What are the chances of cracking this case in a hurry?" Howard asked, leaning forward across his desk and staring at Adams.

Adams shook his head.

"I wouldn't count on it, sir. The guy may be a nut. If he doesn't do it again, the chance aren't good. She may have tried to blackmail him and he killed her to shut her mouth. We have checked through her apartment: there was nothing in it to tell us she did collect material for blackmail, but she may have a deposit box somewhere."

"Do you think it was a nut?" Howard asked. Adams shook his head.

"I guess not. A nut invariably strangles and then rips them. She was stabbed. Doc thinks she may have known the guy because she was stabbed from the front. She must have seen him, and yet she didn't cry out. At least, no one heard anything."

Howard selected another cigar, bit off the end and spat angrily into his trash basket.

"We've got to get this killer fast. Donovan's okay on the routine stuff, but fast work isn't his strong point. I'm relying on you to crack this case, Adams. Hold your own investigation. Never mind what Motley and Donovan are doing. Get after this killer and nab him. There could be a shake-up here before long, and if you crack this one, you might do yourself a lot of good."

The two men looked at each other.

Adams' thin, pinched face was expressionless, but inside he was experiencing a surge of triumph.

"The Captain will know what I'm up to sir," he said. "He could block me off."