Books › Blue Book v074 n02 [1941-12], 1941 › scan 123
Scan 123
Blue Book v074 n02 [1941-12], 1941
76 lines. Read by computer on 18 September 2026. No printed page number was found. See the scan on archive.org.
1"There's Borsden," said Humphrey. "Minus a hand, a career and a wife. If anyone had reason for a bit of butchery, he did."
2Oscar didn't like the thought. "Let the law worry about him. He's got dough."
3"Then I'll give you Mary Otis."
4"Why?"
5"One good client less. Maybe a yen. She's big enough and strong enough. If you don't like her, there's Beaumont."
6"And Irene. Don't forget Irene."
7"Girls don't go around killing their mammas."
8"I knew one once who did."
9"You know lovely people. Like Al Shelbourne. Let's not clutter up the case with Irene. Skeel, maybe. Why? I haven't the slightest idea."
10Oscar frowned at the rest of his beer. "We need that dough, Humphrey. We need it bad."
11"We also need fresh air," said Humphrey. "I don't like Hyatt's attitude."
12"Ah," Oscar rasped. "What can he do?"
13"Find out I was at the lodge this morning and slap an accessory charge on us. . . . Problems? We're lousy with them: The sudden switch in the News' policy; the paper Irene glommed; what Otis wanted and what Beaumont wanted. Who was the guy I saw there this morning, and why was he there."
14"Swett," said Oscar. "He was out there last night. How about him?"
15"A rabbit. He wouldn't chop himself out of a job."
16"Please," said Oscar. "You make it so very messy." He pushed the button, got the check and paid it. Humphrey followed him through the noisy café into the night. There was a moon, a big one, with a ring around it.
17"Even the city hall looks pure tonight," Oscar said. "It will take more than moonlight to cleanse that place. How long will the people stand for it?"
18"Those dopcs!" said Oscar. He waved good-night and trudged away.
19Humphrey stood on the quiet corner looking up at the sky and then he thought of Robbie. . . . This wouldn't do, he thought. Standing in the dark, mooning!
21His apartment house was dark. He let himself in the side door and went quietly up the two flights of stairs. Inside, he flicked on the light-switch. Then he wished he had stayed outside. There was a man sitting on the davenport, and the man had a violin-case across his knees. He wasn't a complete stranger. Humphrey had talked to him before. He had talked to him at Mrs. Peck's lodge.
22"Where's your badge?" the man said. He smiled sourly and kept his hands on the lid of the violin-case. Humphrey would have liked it much better if the guy had a pistol—pistols were nice, clean weapons.
23"Did you put the kettle on?" Humphrey closed the door.
24"What for?"
25"Tea," said Humphrey. "You seem quite at home."
26"I am."
27"I thought you looked esthetic," said Humphrey. "But not that esthetic. Ever try the accordion?"
28"No," the man said, with considerable distaste.
29"What's wrong with an accordion?"
30"It needs a monkey."
31"I resent that."
32"Sit down and shut up," the man said.
33Humphrey sat. He started to put his hand in his pocket.
34"None of that!"
35"Cigarettes?"
36"On the table."
37Humphrey got one, lit it. "You?"
38"Don't smoke."
39Humphrey indicated the violin-case. "Fiddler?"
40"Sure. What do you think? I'm on my way home from orchestra practice." He laughed soundlessly.
41"My name's Campbell. I'm a private detective."
42"Well, now," the man said, "isn't that fine! Mine's Jones. I run a clothing store."
43"I don't need anything."
44"Not even a shroud?"
45"Let's get it over with," said Humphrey. "I'm tired."
46"What's your game?"
47"I told you. I'm a private detective."
48"That isn't news. Why the act at her joint this morning?"
49"Neither of us had any business there," Humphrey said. "So we're even. You won't tell the law, and neither will I."
50The man laughed again. "Worried, huh? About the law finding you were there."
51"Not me."
52"Nor me," the man said.
53"You should have looked in the wall safe." Humphrey measured the distance to the couch with an appraising eye. One jump would be enough; and the fiddle-case was closed. "A cinch, too. Like a post-office box."
54"And what was I after?"
55"A paper," Humphrey said. He knew the shot went home.
56"Where is it?" The man was sitting forward now, and his thumbs seemed ready to flip the case open.
57"Put away."
58"Dig it out."
59"Not here. I've been around."
60"You want to keep being around? This is not a healthy town. In the summer it gets hot. In the winter it gets cold. Where is it?"
61"There's another customer, so I think I'll wait," said Humphrey.
62"You think so."
63"Yes. I can afford to go to the cops. I don't want to, but I can. You can't, Mr. Jones."
64"I won't." He made it ominous.
65"And until you know where that paper is, you won't push me around."
66Humphrey was sitting forward, his hands on his knees. He looked relaxed, but he wasn't. His toes dug into the carpet, and the muscles on his legs knotted. Then he moved. He was across the room, and his arms were around the other, and his body was pushing the fiddle-case into Jones' flat belly.
67"Damn you!" There was fright in the cry. "Look out!"
68Humphrey swung him off the couch, lay on him, groped for the fiddle-case. It occurred to him that Jones was offering surprisingly little resistance.
69He sat up, and now his knees were on the man's arms, pinning them down. He bent left, caught the fiddle-case and pulled it to him, flipped it open. He said: "I'll be damned!" Then he got up. The smaller man reached out frantically.
70"It really is a fiddle," Humphrey said, and gave it to him.
71"I told you it was." He had the instrument out and was fondling it.
72"Sorry," said Humphrey. He moved to the door, opened it. "Run along and practice."
73Jones didn't move in a hurry. He put the violin back in the case, held it carefully under his arm. His voice got hard again. "Remember what I told you. This town isn't healthy." And with that he was gone.
74Humphrey dropped on the couch and shook his head. This, he mused, was the damnedest case. Now Mr. Jones and his fiddle had to come along and complicate it even more. Jones—Allison Jones! The guy who ran the rackets. Such an esthetic fellow, too.
75He smiled to himself, picked up the phone, got the long-distance operator. He called a detective named Nie-meyer in Santa Paula, and after he had talked to him, he called San Francisco and talked to Max Hilton on the Recorder. Then he went to bed.
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