The Black Lizard Big Book of Pulps

by Otto Penzler

  Almost before I knew it a long sedan slid past me in the fog and swung in toward the curb. The sound of running stopped.

  Thinking fast, I sprinted across the few yards that separated me from the big car and swung up on the trunk rack that jutted out over the gas tank in the rear as the car gathered speed.

  Minutes passed while the car swung around several corners, putting plenty of distance between it and the Club Bijou. I had all I could do to keep my balance on my precarious perch during the first few moments of that ride, but finally the car settled down to a steady run.

  A few minutes later the protecting wisps of fog became thinner and finally vanished. But the hour was early and the few persons that were on the street didn’t give me a look.

  Then after about ten minutes of fast riding the car slowed down and slid in alongside the curb on one of the side streets uptown. I watched my chance and slipped off the trunk rack just before the car stopped.

  I’d just gained the shelter of the doorway of a small apartment house when a rear door of the car opened and two men hit the sidewalk, moving fast. I raised my gun, then changed my mind.

  They thought they’d got me in the taxicab. It wouldn’t hurt anything to let them continue to think that for a while.

  The house before which the car had stopped was a two-story brick structure. The first floor was vacant, so I figured the boys were to meet Suds Garland on the second floor. He had lost no time in repaying the courtesy I’d shown him at the Club Bijou.

  But I couldn’t tip my hand in broad daylight with no means for a getaway. So I put my gun back on my leg and watched the men go into the house. A moment later the car pulled away from the curb and disappeared around the next corner.

  Five minutes later I was walking fast across town. I’d recognized one of the men who had tried to get me as the young fellow who’d been with Garland, but after being up all night I needed sleep more than anything else. I was going to have a lot of work to do that night.

  Presently I caught a cab and twenty minutes later I was at my apartment. I had the driver wait for me while I packed a bag, and then went up to a hotel in the theatrical district.

  It was almost three o’clock in the afternoon when I got up, bathed, dressed, and had breakfast sent up to my room. Then I phoned Francis at his apartment.

  “God, Queen!” he exclaimed when he heard my voice. “I thought they’d taken you for a ride.”

  “Almost did,” I admitted, “but I’m still alive and kicking. Get a couple of the boys and meet me at the club at five-thirty sharp. I’ve got work for you.”

  Well, that was that, I thought while I ate breakfast and then took a cab across town to Simon Grundish’s office. I was going to need some airtight protection, and perhaps an alibi, and Grundish was the man who could fix it for me.

  The political power behind the throne at City Hall didn’t keep me waiting. He met me at the door of his private office right after I’d sent in my name. His wizened face and pale eyes seemed almost joyful when I greeted him and closed the door.

  “What have you been up to now?” he asked quietly, knowing that I didn’t waste time with social visits during business hours.

  “Nothing much,” I smiled. “Suds Garland tried to gun me out this morning. That was foolish business on his part. Understand?”

  “I think I do,” returned the little old man who had been instrumental in seeing that the old indictments against me had been dismissed. “Remember what I told you about Garland a month ago? Well, I still think he’s bad company. It won’t be any great loss if he—”

  “Think you can fix it for me if there’s a flare-back after I get done with him?”

  Grundish frowned for a moment, then nodded.

  “Good,” I smiled. “Seems like a lady can’t even run a night club around this city any more without having some guy think he owns her. I don’t like it. I think I’ll have to branch out into something bigger just to keep the small-timers away from me.”

  “Suds Garland isn’t a small-timer.”

  “No, and he’s not so big, either. He thinks he’s tough just because he makes a lot of money out of the racket. Maybe he was tough once, but money and good living have made him soft. It’s ruined more than one good man, and dope doesn’t draw good men.”

  “Well, Queen,” Grundish shrugged, “you branch out any way you want to. I’d be careful of Garland, though.”

  “From now on I’m going to be,” I admitted. “Just pass the word along to the cops that I know nothing about the dope business. See?”

  Grundish smiled his thin smile which was as near as he ever came to genuine mirth. I left him a few minutes after that, knowing that even if some bright cop did want to ask questions he wouldn’t get far. Grundish would see to that.

  It was almost five-thirty when I reached the Club Bijou. Francis and four of the bouncers at the club were already there, waiting for me to give them the office. I did, starting first with the address of the house where the two men from the car had holed up.

  “Drop out there after it gets dark,” I ordered, “and smoke the boys out. It’s a fairly quiet neighborhood so don’t make too much noise.”

  “Leave it to us, Queen,” promised Francis. “Anything else?”

  “I think that will be enough for one night,” I replied, and didn’t smile when I said it. That business wasn’t any joking matter, but I knew those two punks would never squeeze another trigger.

  And they didn’t. Francis and the boys returned to the club around ten o’clock that night. I listened quietly while Francis told me how they’d trapped the pair in the upper apartment. Maxim-silenced guns had done the rest.

  I figured that incident would make Suds Garland think twice before he tried any more funny stuff with me. The killing of Kate Travers had ceased to be of importance in my mind, because to me the quarrel with Suds Garland was nothing but a personal grudge fight.

  So I paid off on that job and when the club opened for business at midnight Francis and the boys were on deck as usual.

  Everything went along quietly that night for the first hour or so, and then in the midst of the floor show, shortly after one-thirty, Suds Garland pulled the most foolish stunt of his career.

  I was standing at the doorway of the corridor that led back to my office when it happened. The orchestra was playing a snappy little number and the chorus was cavorting across the floor when suddenly there was a stunning roar of an explosion.

  Instantly the lights went out. Glass crashed at the front of the club and was lost in the crescendo of splintered wood, hurtling bricks and falling plaster. One guess was enough to know what had happened.

  Suds Garland’s mob had tossed a pineapple into the entrance hall!

  CHAPTER V

  THE QUEEN ACTS

  Fighting my way blindly through the darkness and the crush of the mob that tried to rush the front entrance, I finally gained the main door. By that time tiny flames were crackling in the wreckage of what had been a hall, and were gaining headway fast.

  The crowd of diners and dancers didn’t get far. The whole front corridor was a shambles. Then over the shouts of the crowd sounded the bellowing voice of Francis, directing them to the rear corridor which led to an alley in the back.

  With one accord the crowd rushed the narrow hall. It didn’t take five minutes for them to jam themselves out of the main room. By that time I’d found a fire extinguisher in the darkness and was trying vainly to stem the tide of the flames.

  Francis and some of the boys were lighting the place as best they could with flashlights. Other waiters were working more fire extinguishers and making no progress. Then suddenly in the distance I heard the clang of fire bells and the wail of police sirens.

  “No talking, boys,” I ordered, shouting to make myself heard. “I’ll deal with the cops.”

  A chorus of agreement came to me out of the semi-darkness of what a few minutes before had been a brilliantly lighted spot of night life. I thought of the
checkroom girl and wondered whether any guests had been caught by the blast.

  For the first few minutes the battalion chief and the sergeant in charge of the emergency squad of cops had their hands full with the fire and the crowds that gathered in the street. Then when the flames were under control both the chief and the sergeant looked me up.

  “Well, young lady,” began the grizzled fire fighter, “what have you got to say for yourself?”

  “Who tossed the bomb?” shot in the sergeant, another veteran of bulldozing tactics which were usually effective.

  “One at a time,” I said quietly. “Suppose we go back to my office. It’s still in one piece.”

  When I had a cigarette going in the back room and had rubbed most of the sweat and grime from my face and hands, I looked the two men in the eyes. They’d been firing questions at me continually, but they hadn’t been able to break down my pose of ignorance.

  “Listen,” I said finally. “If I knew who did this, I’d tell you. Right at the moment this night club happens to be my only means of making a living. It’s going to cost money to make repairs, but that’s my worry. That’s all I know. The blast get anybody?”

  The two men exchanged a quick glance. Then the sergeant cleared his throat and said:

  “Killed the checkroom girl and injured a man. That’s all we’ve found so far.”

  “Who was the man?”

  Why I asked that question, I don’t know. Right at the minute I really wasn’t interested in who the man might be, but the question popped out before I could stop it. A moment later I was glad I’d asked.

  “The man was a private detective,” said the sergeant. “Name of Sid Lang.”

  I didn’t move a muscle as I heard those words, but my brain was working hard. What had Sid Lang been doing at the Club Bijou? Had he suspected that I’d had the two men, Suds Garland’s bodyguards, rubbed out? I didn’t know.

  So I kept my face expressionless while I said:

  “That’s tough. Tell the guy I’ll stand good for his hospital expenses and those of anybody else who was hurt. I don’t want to have it said that Queen Sue doesn’t take care of her friends. Tough about the checkroom girl. She was a nice kid.”

  “And you don’t have any idea of who might have tossed that bomb?” persisted the battalion chief.

  “None at all. You might scout around and see whether any of the neighbors saw anybody they’d recognize just before it happened. I wasn’t paying anybody protection and wasn’t asked to. I just don’t know who might have wanted to ruin my business.”

  “That’s a lie, Queen Sue!”

  I opened my mouth to deny that accusation, but I didn’t speak. The voice had sounded strangely familiar, but had not come from the sergeant or the fire chief. Suddenly I caught my breath as I looked past them.

  Swaying in the doorway, big hands braced doggedly against the jambs, his head swathed in bloody bandages, was Sid Lang!

  “What are you doing here?” demanded the sergeant. “You ought to be—”

  “That’s—all right,” gasped Lang, waving the sergeant’s objections down while he crossed the room unsteadily and stopped in front of me.

  For a moment none of us spoke. Hovering outside the door, I could see the dim form of Francis. Then I looked up and met Sid Lang’s boring gaze.

  “Get out, you,” mumbled Lang. “I want to talk—to the girl—alone.”

  Slowly the two older men moved to the door and closed it after them. In the light of the flash that was propped up on one corner of the desk Lang’s blood-streaked face was ghastly. I expected him to collapse any moment, but when I placed a chair for him he merely shook his head and remained standing.

  “Sorry, Queen,” he said slowly with a great effort, his voice nothing but a hollow whisper. “Didn’t mean—to spoil your play.”

  “You didn’t,” I assured him. “You ought to be in the hospital.”

  “Going there—soon.” He paused, laboring for breath. Finally he went on. “Listen, Queen. I’m out of this—for a while. I’m going to tell you something. I didn’t give it to you straight—on Kate Travers.”

  “I know you didn’t,” I responded. “Come clean this time.”

  “Yes, do that. Kate was an undercover agent. Wasn’t working for the agency—just for me. She thought she could get more than I could. I told you straight about—what she meant to me. I’m hired to bust Suds for some rich guy. Garland made a snowbird out of his son. And so far Suds has made a bum—out of you. Get it?”

  Swaying in the doorway, his head swathed in bloody bandages, was Sid Lang!

  “Better rest up in the hospital,” I said quietly. “You’re off your head.”

  “Want me to—tip your play to the cops?”

  “Spill and be damned!” I snapped. “I’m taking orders from no dick—not even a private flattie! Beat it!”

  My heart stopped as Sid Lang turned slowly,

  laboriously toward the door. I wasn’t fighting his battles, and he knew it. He had hoped to enlist my aid against Garland by giving me the straight story on Kate Travers.

  Perhaps under ordinary circumstances I might have been impressed. As it was, I was fighting my own battles. I had a lot to settle with Suds Garland and his dope racket, but I wasn’t giving Sid Lang any definite indication of what I was going to do to Garland. After all, Sid Lang was on the side of the law. I wasn’t.

  I’d played a lone hand this far, but as Lang started towards the door I thought sure he was going to spoil my play. Then I sighed with relief as he opened the door and said:

  “I was wrong, sarge. The girl’s okay. God— I’m tired.”

  As he finished speaking in a hoarse whisper, Sid Lang stumbled. Only the strong arms of the sergeant and the battalion chief kept him from crashing to the floor. Instantly I was at his side.

  He opened his eyes for a moment. A faint smile wreathed his pallid lips as he looked up at me. Then he relaxed and lay still.

  “Just fainted,” grunted the sergeant. “Hey, somebody! Give us a light!”

  I caught up the flash from the desk and led the way down the corridor to the alley. Silently I paid tribute to the sheer nerve that had kept Sid Lang on his feet until he had set me straight on the Kate Travers business. Perhaps that was what he had come to the club to do in the first place. It didn’t make much difference now.

  When Lang had been carted away in an ambulance the sergeant turned to me.

  “A real man, that one,” he said with genuine admiration. “He did great work while he was with the D.A.’s office.”

  “I know it,” I said softly, and let it go at that.

  The sergeant looked at me hard for a moment. Then he nodded.

  “I guess you do,” he agreed, remembering how Sid Lang had smashed my old mob. Then he added, “Well, I’ll leave a police guard here, young lady, till morning. If you hear anything about who did this, let us know.”

  Thanking him quickly, I made my way back into the club and found Francis. By some strange means he had managed to avoid ruffling even a hair of his shiny head, and his dinner clothes were still as immaculate as though he had just come on duty. That suited me fine.

  I’d been doing a lot of headwork in the spare moments I’d had between arguing with the sergeant and the battalion chief. I meant to pay my debt to Suds Garland in no uncertain way, but first I was going to play havoc with certain parts of his racket. So I gave Francis his instructions quickly.

  “Get four or five of the boys who are still presentable. I’ll meet you a couple of blocks away, corner of Severn and Leistner, in twenty minutes. We’ve got a lot to do, so make it fast.”

  Watching my chance, I slipped out the back way again. A few minutes later I was at an all-night garage, renting a sedan. I drove the car myself and picked up Francis and the boys right on schedule.

  During the time Suds and I had been fighting Buzz Mallon, Suds had made the mistake of showing me what he called “spots of gold.” In reality they were nothing b
ut high-class apartments in the swankier districts of town where those who could afford to pay plenty were privileged to indulge their dope habits unmolested.

  Suds furnished protection for the places and maintained them for his high-class clientele. I meant to smash at least three of the places that I knew existed.

  Perhaps this bit of sabotage sounds like a childish prank, but it wasn’t. Suds had struck at my pocket-book through bombing the Club Bijou. I meant to cut into his bankroll by smashing his expensive joints. Loss of money in a racket hurts worse than having a couple of punk gunmen killed.

  So when I picked up Francis and the boys I explained the situation to them rapidly. They were all for the idea immediately and were in high spirits as I started uptown.

  For my part, I wasn’t exactly light-hearted. Anything can happen when you start out on a job like that, and right at the moment I didn’t want anything to happen to me before I got to see Suds Garland personally.

  He had a lot to answer for, and I meant to make him do it. Still, I’ve never been able to send my men into a place that was too tight for me to go myself. And I always lead the way when there’s work to be done.

  This time was no exception. When I pulled up at the corner above a tall apartment house twenty minutes later I cautioned the boys to go easy with the gats, and then piled out of the car.

  Francis had a gun equipped with a silencer so I had him follow close behind me while we walked down to the entrance of the building, a half block away. The four other men paired off behind us.

  Only one mug was on duty in the lobby. I gave him a bright smile as I walked towards the elevators, and then as I passed him I turned quickly, slipped out my gun, and jammed it against his back.

  “Quiet!” I warned, and the guy wilted. Suds didn’t seem to have luck in picking gunmen.

  Francis pushed the signal bell at the elevator and a moment later the car stopped at the ground floor. It was one of those automatic affairs and it crowded us considerably as we all piled into it. I didn’t take my gun from the mug’s back for a moment.