The Black Lizard Big Book of Pulps

I crossed the kitchen floor and reached for the glasses, planning to lift them by sticking my fingers inside.

“All right. Stick them up — and don’t turn around!”

I stuck them up. That deep hoarse voice meant business. I heard him take a step back.

“All right. Turn and look. Then turn front again.”

I gave a look around.

There wasn’t anybody in sight. But there was the muzzle of a gun sticking out the end of the corridor. That was all I could see, and that was all he meant for me to see. Just to show he wasn’t playing.

“Are you looking front now?” the voice snapped.

“Yep.”

I heard him cross the kitchen, catlike, till he was at the opposite wall.

“Now turn and walk down the corridor — slow!”

I turned and crossed to the corridor. I heard him come after me as I started down it. I reached the bathroom.

“Stop!”

I stopped.

“Right hand down — slow! Reach around for the key. Got it? Now put it in this side the door.”

I followed instructions. He was close behind me now.

“Get in there. Cross to the window, hands up!”

I crossed to the window. The door slammed and the key clicked.

I didn’t even bother to turn. I threw open the window, looked out, and gave a laugh. What a mistake that baby had made! In another second I was outside and running down the fire-escape.

There was an alley leading from the foot of the stairs to the street. It was surrounded on three sides by the apartment, and the only trouble was the tradesmen’s stairway led to another block. But I tore on down the stairs and down the alley, and almost ran into the dick that was keeping an eagle eye on the apartment.

He was leaning against the side of the building at the head of the alley, and I reckon the sound of my feet woke him up. He stepped out to block my way.

“What’s the big rush, buddy?” he says.

“Want to be on time for church,” I snarled; “out of my way, flatfoot!”

But he grabbed me by both arms.

“Now listen, Major,” he said, soft-like, “you don’t want to run like that, it’s bad for the heart. And besides, I’d love it a lot if you’d just stick around a bit, so’s we can get acquainted,” and a lot of soft soap like that that the old-time dick pulls before he slaps you down; and I had to argue with him and show him everything but my baby pictures before he let up on me.

And by that time my killer probably was home and had his two beer glasses tucked safe in bed. I made a couple of observations on the bull’s ancestors and walked around to Bradford Street; and just as I was passing the front of the apartment, a car drew up. I turned and looked.

Coleman Fuller was climbing out. He gave me a salute.

“Coming or going, Mr. Warren?” he asked. “I was just going up to see Jobson.”

I looked him over quick.

“He’s something to see,” I said, “if you like them dead.”

His mouth and eyes opened wide at that.

“Dead?” he whispered. “You don’t mean—”

“Don’t I, though! Go up and take a look at him. And while you’re about it, you might phone headquarters. I’ve kept it a little secret so far because I haven’t time to go down and fill out questionnaires, like they’d want me to. I’ve got a job on my hands.”

But he grabbed my arm as I was starting off.

“Was it the same man that killed my uncle?” he asked, all breathless.

“Same and identical.”

“And — and do you know yet who it was? Have you any idea?”

I tipped him a wink.

“There’s a little birdie been flitting around my ear the last couple of hours,” I said. I started to go on, but he was keen for more dope. “Listen,” I said, “if things go right, I’ll know more about it tonight. Maybe I’ll even have a little surprise package to bring you afterwards.”

“Tonight?” He stared at me. Then: “Where are you staying?” he suddenly said.

I thought quick, then decided it wouldn’t do any harm.

“Stopover Inn, on the Eastern Highway.”

“Stopover Inn?” he gasped. “But isn’t that—”

“Yep,” I cut in. “The hangout of the wild and wicked Lewis gang.”

He thought that over. Then he looked at me funny and said: “Are you going there — all alone?”

“What do you want to know that for?” I asked.

He looked away.

“I just — it’s rather dangerous going there alone, isn’t it?” he murmured.

I started off.

“Don’t you worry about that,” I told him. “That’s your Uncle Dudley’s business. Just you have that ten grand ready, or else a first class undertaker.” I left him there, hopped into Lizzie, and started off. I wanted to be alone to think something over, for I’d just seen a bright light. Seeing Nephew Coleman had done that.