15 Story Detective, April 1950 — page 84: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

84 inet Dick had identified as his booze locker. “I’m really not in any hurry.” George watched her help herself to a bottle of Scotch. What in the hell did he do now? Dick hadn’t mentioned that he ex- pected company; but, on the other hand, she seemed to take the whole place so much for granted—Ball didn’t think he had any business pitching her out. She smiled at him again as she squirted seltzer into her highball glass. “I’m Mari- lyn Toomey,” she said, as though it ex- plained everything. “That’s fine,” Ball mumbled stupidly. obs FE hg “Ves?” “I—I’m George Ball. If you’ll excuse me a minute, I’ll put on some clothes.” He backed modestly through the door of Dick’s bedroom. Marilyn Toomey didn’t know it, but she was the first woman he’d been alone with in over seven years. She would be a beautiful woman—red hair—tiny, but a very solid package in her green after- noon suit. Those slanty eyes, and the way they had mocked him while she was making her drink! Dick had left an office number beside the phone on his night table. George dialed the number now. “Dick,” he said when his friend came on the wire, “You know a pixy-faced character who calls herself Marilyn Toomey ?” “Yeah,” Dick said. ““What about her?” “She just waltzed into the apartment and started lapping up your Scotch. Thought I ought to check.” “Oh no!” “That’s all I want to know, pal,” George said. “TI’ll go out and give her the bum’s rush—if you say so.” “Yeah. Marilyn’s a tank,” Dick said. “T don’t know what she’s doing there, but heave her out. Before you do, though, George—I’m glad you called. I was about to give you a buzz. I think you’re set.” Ball gripped the phone hard, tried to 15 Story Detective keep his voice under control. “No foolin’? That’s great, Dick. What is it?” “T think I’ve talked Cary Jensen into putting you on as assistant night clerk at his hotel down on Spring Street. The Rodney Villa., Its kind of a dump, but it’ll keep you in eating money.” “Am I complaining ?” George laughed. “No, but I don’t want you to think I’m settling for a from-hunger set-up like this for you. Talk to Cary, and look the place over. If you can stand it, I think he’ll put you right to work. Call me after you see Jensen, and let me know how you make out.” “Sure thing, and thanks.” Ball hung up, grinning. He remembered Marilyn. At the rate she was going, she’d be half-way through Dick’s bottle of Scotch. He’d put a stop to that! He jumped into his clothes and strode into the living room. It was empty. Like Marilyn’s glass. Pinned down by the Scotch bottle was a hastily scrawled note. “Dear Knothead,” it read, “You should take a course in whispering if you’re go- ing to talk about a lady behind her back!” George crumpled Marilyn’s note and tossed it into the wastebasket. CHAPTER TWO Trouble at the Switchboard FTER Dick Casle’s no-buildup on A the Rodney Villa, George Ball was expecting a run down hotel. It didn’t damage his morale to discover the hotel was a large, brick structure adver- tised as both fire and quake proof. Maybe it was no Ambassador, either. But the lobby was large and well-lighted. Jensen was a nice guy. They settled their business over a couple of cigarettes, and he took George to the desk and intro- duced him to a little gray-haired character named Wilson. George met the house de- cS) EOmichboo (E@)