Curtis Cluff - Black Mask Magazine (Vol. 31, No. 1 — January, 1948)

Maile still looked puzzled. “What happened to all that dope?”

I shrugged. “We don’t know for sure but we think that Kent had given up the game rather than take any more risks. He was a gambler but he was no fool. If we’re right, he probably dumped it somewhere off the reef, possibly when Ruiz and Malo were supposed to be taking care of me. The cops, the Federal boys and the Coast Guard are going to start dragging for it this morning.”

Maile sighed. “It’s as wild a story as I ever heard.”

I thought about Norris’ folded check in my wallet and it didn’t seem so wild to me. “Well, it’s practically finished,” I said.

“Practically?”

“There’s one more thing to clear up.”

Maile looked inquiring.

“What were you doing on the second floor of the Hobron Club tonight?”

Maile blushed. “Looking for you.”

“You left a telephone message for me in the afternoon. What was the important thing you wanted to talk to me about?”

“It was just a wild idea I had.”

“What was it?”

“It sounds foolish.”

“What was it?”

She blushed to the roots of her hair. “Well, I... kind of wanted to see you again so I conceived the bright idea of suggesting that you stay out here a while and maybe open a branch of your agency. It was just a gag.” She stared at me defiantly.

I put down my drink and got up. “O.K.,” I said, advancing on her, “I can go along with a gag.”