Erle Gardner - Beware the Curves

The officer was undecided for a moment. He said, “That sounds like a gang we’ve been having trouble with. One of the kids a tall blond?”

“Yeah,” I said. “The one in the blazer. Looked like a basketball player.”

“About nineteen or twenty? Something over six feet?” he asked.

“I’m not too certain,” I said. “They got out of there in a hurry when I brought my car to a stop.”

“Just you by yourself, and you were going to take on these four hoodlums?” he asked.

“They didn’t know I was alone in the car,” I said. “I have a gun that I could have used if I had to.”

“ You’ve got a gun?”

“That’s right.”

“Let’s take a look at your permit.”

I showed him my credentials.

He thought things over for a while, then turned to the woman. “Let’s see your driving license.”

She gave it to him.

“Stella Karis, eh? Okay, what do you want to do? Do you want to make a complaint?”

She said, “I did, but I don’t. Why should I get my name in the papers, after all I’ve been through?”

The officer said, “That’s not going to help the next girl who gets waylaid on the road, Miss Karis.”

I said, “If they interview you, Miss Karis, you don’t need to tell them anything about the officer chasing you instead of the carload of juveniles.”

His eyes narrowed. “Nineteen-fifty-two Buick, you say?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Black sedan?”

“Either black or such a dark color that it looked black. As I get the story, they passed her once, then dropped behind her and let her pass them. Then they passed her again, studying the car, then dropped way behind and the third time they made a noise like a siren. When she slowed to a stop they dragged her out of the car, and—”

“Okay, okay,” the officer said. “But you should have remembered the license number.”

“If you’d listened to me when I was yelling at you,” I told him, “there was still time for you to have overtaken this car.”

“Maybe,” he mumbled, `but that didn’t give her an excuse to be driving all over the road.”

“She’s emotionally upset.”

“Okay, okay,” he said. “I’ll go on in to the checking station and telephone for a roadblock. Those hoodlums probably turned off, but there’s a chance we may catch them. We’ve been having trouble with that gang. Could you identify the car, Lam?”

“I didn’t see any distinctive marks but I know there were four of these young punks and it was a ’52 Buick, black sedan. That’s about the best I can give you except that I could identify that tall blond kid, or I think I could. And perhaps the chunky fellow with the low black hairline. The rest of them I didn’t see so good.”

“Okay, I’ll go on in and phone.”

The officer strode back to his car, jumped in, and whipped by us like a streak.

I stood by the window of Stella Karis’ car.

Abruptly she began to laugh. She said, “Donald, did you really think I was going to turn you in?”

“You tore up some good clothes.”

“I didn’t want you messing in my business. I’ve found that’s a perfect way to get rid of any man who makes a nuisance of himself. It literally scares them out of their wits. Now I’ve got to get into my suitcase and put on some fresh clothes.”

“Better wait until you get across the state line,” I said. “We pass the checking station right up the line here.”

“Okay, you lead the way.”

I told her, “Okay. Now how about dinner in Reno?”

She laughed. “You’re one fast worker,” she said. “What’s your game?”

“I’m checking up on Drude Nickerson, the cabdriver,” I said. “They ran me out of town.”

Her eyes got wide. “Is that what you were doing?”

I nodded.

“You’ve got yourself a dinner date,” she said. “Know a good motel?”

I nodded.

“Lead the way.”

The traffic officer was telephoning from the checking station as we went by. I waved at him and he gave us a casual signal with his hand. I gathered that he didn’t want publicity any more than we did. I also had the disturbing thought that he might be doing a lot of thinking and after he got done with his thinking the results might not be so good.

We crossed the state line and about five miles out of town I pulled to a stop.

Stella Karis stopped her car behind mine, got out a suitcase, opened it, walked around on the side of the car that was away from the road.

It didn’t take her sixty seconds to get out of the torn blouse and skirt and into other clothes. She came around the car to look me over.

“Are you kidding or are you on the square?” she asked.

“I’m on the square,” I told her.

“You’re interested in Drude Nickerson?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“For reasons that I can’t tell you and couldn’t tell the local law. They told me to get out of town.”

“What’s your opinion?” she asked.

“About you?”

“Don’t be silly. About Nickerson.”

“I can’t give you any opinion at the present time.”

“Why not?”

“Various reasons.”

“Do you mean you don’t have an opinion or you can’t give me one?”

“I can’t give you one.”

“My!” she said. “You’re helpful.”

“I’m working,” I told her.

“Very well,” she said. “You asked me for a dinner date. You have the dinner date. I am also going to worm the information I want out of you.”

“How?” I asked.

“Wiles,” she said. “Seductive charm. Perhaps liquor.”

“What’s your interest in Nickerson?” I asked.

“I haven’t any.”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

She said, ‘Lead the way to a motel. Don’t try any funny stuff when it comes to registering. You get a single and I’ll get a single and I hope they’re far apart. Give me twenty minutes to freshen up, then come tap gently on the door of my cabin and we’ll go to dinner. Are you on an expense account?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” she said, “you buy.”

“I buy,” I told her.

I got in the car and led the way into Reno, picked out a good motel. It was filled up. I went to another one. It was filled up. I walked back to Stella Karis’ car.

“We may have trouble getting accommodations,” I said.

“Okay,” she told me. “We’ll do the best we can.”

“Suppose we can’t get two separate cabins,” I said. “Could we—?”

“We could not,” she interrupted.

“Could we,” I asked, “stay in separate courts?”

She smiled. “I misjudged you, Donald. We could.”

“All right,” I said. “We’ll keep trying.”

The next motel was a good-looking modern place. It had two singles.

The manager looked us over rather skeptically, but gave us keys to the single cabins.

“Twenty minutes,” she said.

“Going to do any telephoning?” I asked her.

She smiled. “I might. How about you?”

“I’m sending a wire.”

“Okay,” she said. “Twenty minutes.”

I went to my room and composed a wire to Bertha.

“PRESENT SITUATION PURELY HORTICULTURAL. JUST ANOTHER PLANT. NO REASON TO GET EXCITED BUT DON’T THINK OUR CLIENT WANTS TO ADD A PLANT OF THIS COMMONPLACE VARIETY TO HIS COLLECTION. REGARDS, DONALD.”

I tapped gently on the door of Stella Karis’ unit of the motel.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“Donald,” I said.

“Come on in.”

I opened the door. She was seated in front of a mirror at the dressing table.

She turned slowly to look over her bare shoulder at me and lowered her long lashes. “Hello, Donald,” she said seductively.