"Mack." It was Dolly's voice. "Fletcher just left and--"
"All right," he said, interrupting her to save time. "I'll be around,
but I'm going to finish this one report first. I'll be there in about--"
"Wait, Mack. It's not just that. He stole my jewelry, the few things
I had in that leather box on my dresser. Not worth much, but--Do you
think I should call the police and report it? And if I do, maybe you
shouldn't come, maybe you shouldn't be here when they get here. What do
you think?"
"Don't call the cops," he said flatly.
"But why not? Like I said, the stuff isn't worth much, but they might
get it back for me."
"They might, Doll. But I might be able to do even better than that.
Sit tight. This report can wait till tomorrow. I'll be there in five
minutes."
He hung up the phone, got his hat and turned out the lights, locked
the office, and left. Downstairs he got in his car. It was, as any car
used for shadowing should be, inconspicuous--a five-year-old Studebaker
Commander painted gray--but there was a bit of souping-up under the
hood and it was kept in perfect condition; it could go over a hundred
if it had to. He drove the dozen blocks to Dolly's in three minutes
flat. He let himself into the building with the key he carried and it
was exactly the five minutes he had predicted when he rapped lightly
on Dolly's door. He heard her coming and called out, "It's me, Doll,
Mack," to save her the business with the chain.
She let him in. She was still--or again--wearing the red kimono she'd
put on when he'd left at nine, and he wondered if she'd have had sense
enough to have dressed before she called the police, if he had let her
call them. He kissed her, and then firmly disentangled her.
"This is business," he said. "So no monkey-business. I'll sit here and
you sit over there and don't distract me."
"All right, Mack honey. But can't I make us each a drink?"
"No, not--Well, all right. I can be asking questions while you make
'em." He sat down on the sofa and tossed his hat onto the end table.
Dolly went behind the kitchenette's screen and he raised his voice a
little so she could still hear him easily.
"So the family jewels are gone. Point one. Can you be absolutely
positive this Fletcher took them? Obviously you missed them right after
he left, but how long ago do you know for sure they were still in the
box?"
"While you were still here, Mack, just before he came. Remember I had
on those costume earrings--the ones with the green stones--and I took
them off when I undressed. I hate earrings in bed, especially dangly
ones. And I put them in the box on the dresser. The other things were
there then too, or I'd have noticed."
"That makes it sure, all right. How come you missed the stuff so soon
after he left? You weren't starting to get dressed again, were you?"
Dolly came around the screen, again with a glass in each hand and again
the red kimono gaped open all the way down the front. Mack Irby took
his drink from her and then resolutely averted his eyes. "Pull that
damn kimono shut and sit down--over there. Now answer my last question."
Dolly sat down across from him and obediently pulled the top of the
kimono closed. But she crossed her legs and it fell away from them,
quite a lot of Dolly still showed. She said, "No, I wasn't going to get
dressed again. I just--well, I just had a sudden hunch, right after
he left and just before I called you, and I looked around to see if
anything was gone. I looked in my purse first; there wasn't much money
in it but it was still there, and then I looked in the jewelry box and
it was empty and I knew my hunch had been right.
"You see, Mack, he was in an awful hurry and kind of--well, furtive is
the word, I guess, when he left. Almost like he was scared. And besides
that, he's in some kind of a jam over money. What he really came here
for was to try to borrow some from me."
Mack Irby laughed shortly. "He sure didn't know you, Doll. What kind of
money did he want? Did he mention an amount?"
"Five hundred. He offered to pay six back in a week or two. That would
have been fair enough, if I knew him. But I probably don't even know
his right name--and if Ray Fletcher _is_ his right name he could still
be planning to blow town for all I know."
"You played it smart, I'd say. Offering that much interest is
suspicious, and besides, the fact that he swiped your jewelry shows he
ain't very honest. If you'd of lent him the money you'd never of got it
back. Now you said the jewelry wasn't worth much. How much is not much?"
"Well, it was mostly costume stuff. Some of the things maybe cost up
to twenty bucks apiece, but they wouldn't have any resale value. The
wedding ring, worth ten or fifteen--I mean, that's what it would have
cost new, not what he could get for it. And that diamond ring, the one
with the flaw. You remember it."
Mack Irby remembered the ring. One of Dolly's "friends" had given it to
her about a year ago. She'd turned it over to Mack to have appraised
and maybe to sell it for her. It had _looked_ like a good stone and as
though it might weigh almost a carat; they'd thought it might be worth
several hundred dollars. But the appraisal had been disappointing.
Mack's jeweler friend had told him its diameter was deceptive; it was
too shallow, cut too thin. And it had a bad flaw, one you could see
with the naked eye if you looked at just the right angle. Seventy-five
was all he offered for it. And at that price, since it looked to be
worth much more, Dolly had decided to keep it.
Dolly seldom wore rings, but once in a while someone wanted to take her
out of town for a weekend, and if the someone was a free enough spender
she sometimes went. Since they'd be registering as man and wife she
kept a plain wedding ring to wear on such occasions. And she thought
that a diamond ring worn with it would look good and add verisimilitude.
Mack said, "If that's the lot, he won't get more than fifty bucks from
a fence--if a fence would be willing to bother with the stuff at all.
If he needs five hundred, he's in for a disappointment. All right, so
much for the stuff. And now about Fletcher. I think we can take it for
granted the name's a phony, or he wouldn't of risked robbing you."
He thought a moment. "But there's still a possibility. If the jam he's
in is so bad he's figuring on blowing town anyway, the name business
might not worry him. Let's check something."
He walked over to the telephone table and picked up the directory and
opened it. After a minute he said, "There's only one Ray Fletcher
listed, a Ray W. Fletcher, seventy-one sixteen South Kramer. How long
ago did your Ray Fletcher leave here?"
Dolly looked at her wrist watch--and was suddenly glad she'd kept it
on instead of taking it off as she sometimes did. It was a good watch,
worth more than all the items she'd lost put together. She said, "About
fifteen minutes ago."
Mack said, "That address is to hell and gone on the south side. Take
him at least half an hour to get there, so if that Ray Fletcher is home
now we can eliminate him."
He picked up the phone and dialed. A man's voice answered, "Ray
Fletcher speaking," and Mack said, "Sorry, wrong number," and put the
phone down.
He went back to the sofa. "Not our boy; he's home. All right, what do
we know about our boy? He told you he's a liquor salesman and I'd say
that's probably true, account of his bringing you a case of whisky most
of the times he brought you anything. Did he ever mention what outfit
he works for?"
Dolly shook her head.
"The cartons the whisky came in. Were they stamped with the name of a
distributor?"
"I didn't notice if they were. And the last carton got thrown out at
least a month ago. But listen, the whisky was always Belle of Tennessee
brand. Would that help? I mean, do all distributors handle all brands?"
"That might help. It'll pretty well pinpoint him if it's a brand his
outfit has exclusive franchise for. But damn it, I won't be able to
work that angle till tomorrow--and I want to get to him tonight if
I possibly can, while he's still got the stuff on him. We won't be
in such a strong position if he's got rid of it, or even stashed it
somewhere."
He took another sip of his drink. "All right, Doll. Start at the
beginning. Where and how did you meet the guy?"
"He called up one evening and said John Evans--that's a guy I was
seeing once in a while then--had given him my name and phone number and
suggested he give me a ring sometime. Wanted to know if he could drop
up and meet me, and bring some liquor. I wasn't doing anything that
evening and he sounded nice over the phone so I said sure."
"Know how to get in touch with this John Evans?"
"No. I don't know what happened but I haven't seen him in over a year."
"And John Evans was probably a phony name too. Damn it, Doll, this is
a digression but you ought to know the right names of the men you see.
Not for blackmail or anything--I know you don't go in for anything like
that--but just for your own protection. Like tonight. You can do it.
Sooner or later a guy goes in the can and leaves his pants outside and
all you got to do is take a quick gander in his wallet for his right
name and address. And from then on you'll know who he really is.
"But okay, let's get back to Ray Fletcher. Do you think he's married?"
"I'm almost sure. He never took me out anywhere, for one thing, just
came to the apartment. Single guys--I know a few of them--like to
show me around; I'm decorative. And another thing; he never stayed
all night, usually left around twelve or one. And other little
things--yeah, I'm sure he's married."
"Know what kind of a car he drives?"
She shook her head again. "He must drive one, but he never brought it
upstairs with him."
"You sure don't know much about him. All right, physical description.
Don't see how that'll help tonight, but we might as well get it over
with."
"Well, he's about your build, maybe an inch taller."
"Go on."
She giggled. "He's about an inch taller, but you're about an inch
longer, Mack."
He looked at her disgustedly. "A lot of help that is, unless I find him
in a Turkish bath."
Suddenly he snapped his fingers. "Doll, was he wearing tonight a gray
suit, white shirt, blue tie. Sandy hair, no hat?"
"How--? Oh, sure, you must have passed him on your way out. He got here
just a minute after you left."
"Good. Then skip the rest of the description; I'll know him if I see
him again. We passed in the doorway. But damn it, Doll, you haven't
come up with anything yet that will let me find him tonight, and you
gotta. Put down that drink and think hard. As many times as he was up
here he must have said or done _something_ that'd give me a lead. Think
hard."
Dolly Mason closed her eyes and thought hard. After a minute she
said, "He's a horse player. Usually had a Racing Form with him, in his
pocket. At first, until I convinced him I don't bet, he used to give me
tips on horses--and offered to place bets for me if I wanted to take
the tips."
"Keep going."
Dolly's eyes opened wide. "Mack honey, I got something. I think Ray is
his right _first_ name."
"That helps. How do you know?"
"One evening, maybe six months ago, he must of made up his mind
suddenly to make a bet. He used my phone to call some bookie to phone
in the bet. Twenty bucks to win--I don't remember the horse or the
track. He started out by saying 'This is Ray'; no last name but the
bookie must have known him from that."
"Doll, we're getting somewhere. Think hard. Did he call the bookie by
any name?"
"I think he did, but--Yeah, I remember. He said 'This is Ray, Joe,' and
then went on and gave the bet."
Mack said, "I know two bookies named Joe. It couldn't be Joe Renfeld;
he takes only cash bets, no phone business. Runs a cigar store and
books on the side. So it's Joe Amico. I'll know in a minute."
He crossed to the telephone table, looked up a number and dialed it.
When a voice answered he said, "This is Bill? Mack Irby. Is Joe there?
Can I talk to him."
Bill said sure and a minute later Joe's voice said, "Hi, Mack. What can
I do you?"
"Joe, you got a customer named Ray. He's a liquor salesman. Can you
give me the rest of his name?"
"What do you want with him, Mack? Listen, he owes me dough and if
you're going to get him in trouble I'll never collect."
"It's the other way around," Mack said. "He's in trouble all right, but
he'll be in worse trouble if I don't find him right away, tonight. He
stole some jewelry from a client of mine. If I can get to him before
he sells it, there'll be no beef; my client'll settle for getting the
stuff back. If he fences it before I get to him, it'll be too late
for that, see? I can find him tomorrow easy enough--how many liquor
salesmen are there in town named Ray? But that might be too late to
keep him out of jail."
Joe Amico grunted. "Guess you got a point. And I guess I pushed him too
hard. All right, his last name's Fleck. F-l-e-c-k. I don't remember his
address offhand, but it's in the phone book."
"Attaboy, Joe. You wouldn't make a guess which fence he might head for?"
"No, I wouldn't. I know some fences, and so do you, but I don't know
which of 'em, if any, Ray might know or know about."
"Okay, one more thing. Got any idea where I might find him tonight? If
he didn't head home, that is. I'll give his number a ring first."
"Best I could guess is some downtown tavern, almost any of them. He
makes the rounds. Your best bet would be to make 'em too. Will you know
him if you see him, Mack?"
"Yeah. Thanks to hell and back, Joe. So long."
He put down the phone and quickly looked up Ray Fleck in the phone
book. He looked at the address first. Yes, it was close enough. If
Fleck had headed straight for home he'd be there by now. And just maybe
that's what he'd done, if he was scared.
He dialed the number and while it rang a dozen times he held his hand
over the mouthpiece and spoke to Dolly. "Your boy friend is Ray Fleck.
Three-one-two Covington Place. But I guess he didn't head for home." He
cradled the telephone. "So I go looking for him."
Dolly ran over to him, put her arms around his neck and pressed her
body against his.
"Mack honey, do you have to start _right_ away? Would fifteen or twenty
minutes matter?"
Mack Irby laughed. "All right, I don't guess fifteen or twenty minutes
will matter."
The red kimono fell almost completely away as he picked her up and
carried her into the bedroom.