James Chase - No Business Of Mine

to Frankie, who went.

I lit my cigarette, hooked a chair towards me with my foot, sat

down.

“You’d better watch that boy,” I said. “He’s in need of a mother’s

care.”

“Never mind him,” Bradley said, frost in his eyes. “It’s you I want

to talk about.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “I like talking about myself. Where shall we

begin? Would you like to hear how I snitched the scripture prize when

I was a little lad?”

Bradley leaned forward. “Frankie may not be tough,” he said, “but

I am. You’d better not forget it.”

“That’s scared me right through to my jaegers,” I said. “May I go in

a corner and cry?”

“I’ve warned you,” Bradley said, sitting at his desk. “You’re getting

too inquisitive, my friend. I sent for you because I thought a little chat

off the record might clear the air, I advise you not to pass this on to

your friend Corridan. It wouldn’t be healthy.”

“You needn’t worry about Corridan,” I said. “He and I aren’t pals

any more. What’s biting you?”

He took a cigar from a silver box on his desk, pierced it, lit it,

threw the match away, puffed it once or twice before he spoke again.

He took his time. He didn’t rattle me. I was in no hurry myself.

I don’t like American newspaper men who are inquisitive,” he

said. “They annoy me.”

“Are you suggesting I should relay that item of news to the U.S.

Press Association?” I kidded him. “I doubt if they’d lose much sleep,

but, of course, they might. You never know.”

“You’re sticking your nose into something that has nothing to do

with you,” Bradley went on smoothly. “I suggest you stop it.”

“No harm in making suggestions,” I returned lightly. “What exactly

do you mean by that sinister ‘something’?”

“We needn’t go into that,” Bradley said, a cold, angry gleam in his

eyes. “You know what I mean. I’m serious about this. I’d advise you to

return to your own country. There’s a plane leaving to-morrow. It

wouldn’t be a bad idea if you were on it.”

I shook my head. “I have a lot of work to do in this country,” I said.

“I’m sorry I can’t oblige you. Is that all you wanted to see me about?”

He studied his cigar for a moment, said, “I’m warning you,

Harmas. If you don’t keep your nose out of this, you’re going to be

taught a sharp lesson. I know what you newspaper men are like. You

get keen on a story and you need a lot of persuasion to give it up. I

have all the necessary persuasion but I’m not anxious to use it. I

thought if I gave you the hint, you’d be a smart fellow and mind your

own business in the future.”

I stubbed out my cigarette in the copper ash-tray on his desk,

stood up.

“Look, Bradley,” I said, leaning across the desk, “I’ve listened to

your hot air because I wanted to hear how far you’d go. You and

hundreds of other fat, sleek rats who’ve made money out of this war,

sold stinking bad liquor to the Service men, and gorged yourselves

with black market food are a gross a nickel in my country. I’ve

knocked around and met real tough eggs, not jerks like you who

merely smell strong. I’ve been threatened before, and the guys

who’ve shaken their fists at me have ended up in a nice cool cell or

are now fertilizing the soil. I’m not scared of you, or of your panty-

waisted Frankie. I’m coming after you, and I’m keeping after you until

I’ve had the satisfaction of knowing the hangman’s taken your weight

and height and selected a nice strong rope for you. Show me how

tough you are, and I’ll show you how tough I am. Keep Frankie out of

my hair. He’s too young for this kind of shindig. But if he does try

anything with me, I’ll paper a wall with him, and I’ll paper another

wall with you.”

Bradley let me say my piece to the end. There was a faint flush on

his heavy face and his fingers drummed on the desk, otherwise he

was calm enough.

“All right, Harmas,” he said, shrugging, “if that’s the way you feel.

Don’t forget I’ve warned you.

I grinned at him. “I won’t forget,” I said, “but you’ll find me a little

harder proposition to take on than Madge Kennitt.”

His face tightened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he

said. “I’ve never heard of Madge Kennitt. You can get out and stay

out. This club’s closed to you from now on. And take my tip — mind

your own business, otherwise you’ll be a sick PUP.”

“Phooey!” I said, and left him.

Chapter XIII

ON my way back from the Ministry of Reconstruction and

Planning where I had been obtaining material for my third article, I

ran into Corridan.

I spotted him hurrying along the crowded pavement, a dour,

forbidding look in his eyes, his mouth set in a grim line.

“Hello, sour puss,” I said, falling into step beside him. “You look as

cheerful as the National Debt.”

He scowled round, continued on his way.

“I never met such a chap,” he said, stretching his long legs as if

anxious to shake me off. “You’re like a vulture. When anything

happens or goes wrong, you’re sure to appear on the scene.”

My legs were as long as his, and I kept pace with him easily

enough.

“What’s wrong this time?” I asked brightly. “Anyone been

humped off?”

“Nobody’s been bumped off,” he returned coldly. “If you must

know that damned Julius Cole has skipped. He climbed out of his

bedroom window and hooked it last night while I was trying to get in.”

“I don t blame him,” I returned. “Not after what happened to

Madge Kennitt. I suppose he thought the same thing might happen to

him. Any idea where he’s got to?”

“No, but we shall find him. I want him for questioning, and a

general alarm has gone out all over the country to bring him in. It

won’t take long, but it’s a shocking waste of public money.”

“Don’t bother your head about that,” I said. “There are plenty of

other things to worry about. The great thing is to find him alive.”

“I wish you’d stop dramatizing this business,” Corridan snapped.

“You make it sound a damn sight worse than it is.”

“I wonder,” I shrugged. “By the way, how are you getting along

with the Jacobi case?”

He mis-stepped, glanced at me sharply. “What do you know about

that?” he demanded, slowing his pace.

“Oh, I’ve been following your remarkable rise to fame and

fortune,” I returned lightly. “A couple of months ago your face and

name were spread over every newspaper in connection with Jacobi.

Have you found the missing loot yet?”

He shook his head. “Plenty of time for it to appear,” he returned

curtly. “What makes you bring up Jacobi?”

“Oh, I’ve been consulting my Ouija board again. I thought it was a

little odd that part of Jacobi’s loot should be hidden in Netta’s jar of

cold cream. I wondered too, why you didn’t tell me that the ring was

connected with such a sensational case.”

Corridan smiled grimly. “I don’t tell you everything. You appear

capable of finding out most things for yourself.”

I nodded. “That’s so. You’d be surprised how much I do find out.”

“Such as what?”

“I don’t tell you everything either. One of these days I’ll take you

into my confidence and we’ll have a good cry together.”