"Not me!"
"Nor me," Woppy said.
"Doc will give her a shot in the arm when she's asleep," Ma said. "If he won't, I will."
"When?" Flynn asked.
"When I'm good and ready," Ma snapped. "You leave me to worry about that."
Eddie sat down and poured himself a drink.
"Say, Ma, let's have another look at the necklace. I didn't get a chance to look at it properly."
"It's in the safe," Ma lied. "Some other time." To change the subject, she asked, "Why don't one of you lazy slobs get dinner ready?"
Woppy got to his feet.
"Oh, hell! Spaghetti again!" Eddie groaned. "Hey, Flynn, can't you cook?"
Flynn grinned.
"As good as you," he said.
Eddie lifted his shoulders in despair.
"What we want around here is a woman."
"And that's what you're not going to have," Ma said coldly, "Get going, Woppy. I want my dinner."
Eddie had taken the card he had picked up from under his watch strap. He read the address again. He thought of the girl. He decided he'd call on her that night. He turned the card and noticed for the first time there was a message written on it.
He read the message, then with a startled curse, he jumped to his feet. Written in a feminine hand were the words:
What have you done with Frankie Riley?
3
As a street clock was striking eleven, the Buick slid to a standstill near the Palace Hotel. Eddie and Flynn got out, leaving Woppy at the wheel.
"Stick around," Eddie said. "If you see any cops, move off, but keep circling. We may need you in a hurry."
"Rather you than me," Woppy said and stuck a cigarette on his lip.
Eddie and Flynn walked quickly down the street to the hotel entrance. It wasn't much of a place. They walked into the lobby which was empty. Behind the desk dozed a fat, elderly man in his shirt sleeves. He blinked open his eyes as Eddie came up.
"You want a room?" the man asked hopefully, getting to his feet.
"No. Who's in 243?" Eddie asked curtly.
The man stiffened.
"Can't give you information like that," he said.
"You'd better call around tomorrow morning and ask at the desk."
Flynn took out his gun and shoved it into the man's face.
"You heard what the guy said, didn't you?" he snarled.
The man's face went white at the sight of the gun. With trembling hands, he thumbed through the register. Eddie snatched it from him. He ran his finger quickly down the list of numbers.
"Anna Borg," he said when he arrived at No 243. "Who's she?" He noted the rooms either side of 243 were vacant.
Flynn slid the gun in his hand and held it by the barrel. He reached forward and clubbed the man on top of his head. The man slid down behind the counter. Eddie craned his neck to look at him.
"You shouldn't have hit him that hard," he said. "He looks like a family man. Better tie him up."
Flynn went around and tied the man's hands behind him with the man's tie. Leaving him behind the counter, they walked over to the elevator and rode up to the second floor.
"You stay here," Eddie said, "and watch the stairs. I'll call on the dame."
He started off down the passage, looking for room 243.
He found it at the far end of the passage. He listened, his ear against the door panel. Then he drew his gun and stepped into the dark room. He shut the door, groped for the light switch and turned it on.
He looked around. The small room was empty and untidy. Clothes were scattered on the bed and chair. He recognized the yellow dress the girl had been wearing hanging over the chair back. The dressing table was crowded with cosmetic bottles. The contents of a large powder box had been tipped onto the carpet. When he was satisfied no one was in the room and there was nowhere for anyone to hide, he opened drawers but found nothing to interest him. He wondered where the girl had got to. He left the room, shutting the door and joined Flynn at the head of the stairs. "She isn't around."
"Let's get out of here," Flynn said. "The room next to hers is empty," Eddie said. "We'll wait in there. She may come back."
"How about the guy
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