Under ordinary circumstances she was probably a pretty good driver, but that night wasn’t ordinary for her. As we swung right into 155th Street, there was a little click at my side was we grazed the fender of a stopped car. Rolling up the grade of Coogan’s Bluff, we slipped between two taxis, clearing by an inch, and both hackmen yelled at her.
Stopping for a light at the crest, she turned her head and spoke. “It’s my Uncle Dan. His name is Gale. He came last night and asked me—”
She fed gas and we shot forward, but a car heading uptown and squeezing the light was suddenly there smack in our path. With a lightning reflex her foot hit the brake, the other car zipped by with at least a foot to spare, she fed gas again, and the Curtis jerked forward.
I asked her, “Taking the West Side Highway?”
“Yes, it’s quicker.”
“It will be if you make it. Just concentrate on that and let the details wait.”
She got to the highway without any actual contact with other vehicles, darted across to the left lane, and stepped on it. The speedometer said fifty-five when she spoke again.
“If I go ahead and tell you, I can’t change my mind. He wanted me to persuade Bill to fix the game. He said he’d give us ten thousand dollars. I didn’t even want to tell Bill, but he insisted, so I did. I knew what Bill would say—”
She broke off to do some expert weaving, swerving to the middle lane, then on to the right, then a sprint, then swinging to the middle again just ahead of a tan convertible, and so back to the left again in front of a couple of cars that had slowed her down to under fifty.
“Look,” I told her, “you could gain up to two minutes this way with luck, but getting stopped and getting a ticket would take at least ten. You’re driving — okay, but don’t try to talk too. You’re not that good. Hold it till we’re parked.”
She didn’t argue, but she held the pace. I twisted around to keep an eye on the rear through the window, and stayed that way clear to Fifty-seventh Street. We rolled down the cobbled ramp and a block south turned left on Fifty-sixth Street, had a green light at Eleventh Avenue, and went through. A little short of Tenth Avenue we turned in to the curb and stopped. Lila reached for the handbrake and gave it a yank.
“Let’s hear it,” I said. “Enough to go on. Is Uncle Dan a gambler?”
“No.” Her face turned to me. “I’m trembling. Look, my hand’s trembling. I’m afraid of him.”
“Then what is he?”
“He runs a drugstore. He owns it. That’s where we’re going to see him. I know what Helen thinks — she thinks I should have told, but I couldn’t. My father and mother died when I was just a kid, and Uncle Dan has been good to me — as good as he could. If it hadn’t been for him I’d have been brought up in an orphans’ home. Of course Bill wanted to tell Art Kinney last night, but he didn’t on account of me, and that’s why he’s not telling the cops.”
“Maybe he is telling them, or soon will.”
She shook her head. “I know Bill. We decided we wouldn’t tell, and that settled it. Uncle Dan made me promise we wouldn’t tell before he said what he wanted.”
I grunted. “Even so he was crowding his luck, telling you two about the program before signing you up. If he explained the idea of doping the Beebright, why—”
“But he didn’t! He didn’t say how it was to be done, he just said there was an easy way of doing it. He didn’t tell us what it was; he didn’t get that far, because Bill said nothing doing, as I knew he would.”
I eyed her. “You sure of that? He might have told Bill and not you.”
“He couldn’t. I was there with them all the time. Certainly I’m sure.”
“This was last night?”
“Yes.”
“What time?”
“Around eight o’clock. We had dinner early with Helen and Walt Goidell, and when we got home Uncle Dan was there waiting for us.”
“Where’s home?”
“Our apartment on Seventy-ninth Street. He spoke to me alone first, and then insisted I had to ask Bill.”
“And Bill turned him down flat?”
“Of course he did!”
“Bill didn’t see him alone later?”
“Of course not!”
“All right, don’t bite. I need to know. Now what?”
“We’re going to see him. We’re going to tell him that we have to tell the cops, and we’re going to try to get him to come along. That’s why I wanted you with me, because I’m afraid of him — I mean I’m afraid he’ll talk me out of it. But they’ve got to know that Bill was asked to fix the game and he wouldn’t. If it’s hard on Uncle Dan that’s too bad, but I can’t help it; I’m for Bill. I’m for Bill all the way.”
I was making myself look at her, for discipline. I was having the normal male impulses at the sight and sound of a good-looking girl in trouble, and they were worse than normal because I was partly responsible. I had given her the impression that the cops were about set to take her Bill on the big one, which was an exaggeration. I hadn’t mentioned that one reason they were keeping him was his recent reactions to the interest Nick Ferrone had shown in her, which of course had no bearing on anyone’s attempt to fix a ball game. True, she had been in a mess before I had got to her, but I had shoved her in deeper. What she needed now was understanding and sympathy and comforting, and since her friend Helen had deserted her I was all she had. Which was I, a man or a detective?
Looking at her, I spoke. “Okay,” I said, “let’s go see Uncle Dan.”
The engine was running. She released the handbrake, fed gas, and we rolled. Three minutes got us to Eighth Avenue, where we turned downtown. The dash clock said five past eleven, and my wristwatch agreed. The traffic was heavy in both directions, and she got in the right lane and crawled along. Two blocks down she pulled in at the curb, where there was plenty of space, set the brake, turned off the lights, killed the engine, and removed the key and put it in her bag.
“There it is.” She pointed. “Gale’s Pharmacy.”
It was ten paces down. There were neons in the window, but otherwise it looked drab.
“We’ll probably get a ticket for parking,” I told her.
She said she didn’t care. I got out and held the door, and she joined me on the sidewalk. She put a hand on my arm.
“You’re staying right with me,” she stated.
“Absolutely,” I assured her. “I’m good with uncles.”
As we crossed to the entrance and went inside I was feeling not fully dressed. I have a routine habit of wearing a gun when I’m on a case involving people who may go to extremes, but, as I said, I do not go armed to ball games. However, at first sight of Daniel Gale I did not put him in that category. His drugstore was so narrow that a fat man would have had to squeeze to make the passage between the soda fountain stools and the central showcases, and that made it look long, but it wasn’t. Five or six customers were on the stools, and the jerk was busy. A chorus boy was inspecting himself in the mirror of the weight machine. At the cosmetics counter on the other side, the left, a woman was being waited on by a little guy with a pale tight-skinned face and rimless specs who needed a shave.
“That’s him,” Lila whispered to me.
We stood. Uncle Dan, concentrating on the customer, hadn’t seen us. Finally she made her choice and, as he tore off paper to wrap the purchase, his eyes lifted and got Lila. Also he got me, beside her. He froze. He held it, rigid, for four seconds, then came to, went on with the little wrapping job, and was handed a bill by the customer. While he was at the cash register Lila and I crossed to the counter. As he handed the woman her change Lila spoke.
“Uncle Dan, I’ve got to tell you—”
She stopped because he was gone. Without speaking, he turned and made for the rear and disappeared behind a partition, and a door closed. I didn’t like it, but didn’t want to start a commotion by hurdling the counter, so I stepped to the end and circled, and on to the door that had closed, and turned the knob. It was locked. There I was, out at first, unless I was prepared to smash the door in.
The soda jerk called, “Hey, Mac, come out of that!”
“It’s all right,” Lila told him. “I’m his niece. He’s my Uncle Dan — I mean Mr. Gale is.”
“I never saw you before, lady.”
“I never saw you either. How long have you been here?”
“I been here two months, and long enough. Leave me be your uncle, huh? You, Mac, come out here where you belong! Whose uncle are you?”
A couple of the fountain customers gave him his laugh. A man coming in from the street in a hurry approached and called to me, “Gimme some aspirin!” The door I was standing by popped open, and Uncle Dan was there, against me in the close quarters.
“Aspirin!” the man demanded.
“Henry!” Gale called.
“Right here!” the soda jerk called back.
“Wait on the gentleman. Take over for a while; I’ll be busy. Come here, Lila, will you?”
Lila moved, circled the end of the counter into the narrow aisle, and approached us. There wasn’t room enough to be gallant and let her pass, and I followed Gale through the door into the back room ahead of her. It was small, and the stacks of shipping cartons and other objects took most of what space there was. The rows of shelves were crammed with packaged merchandise, except those along the right wall, which held labeled bottles. Gale stopped near the door, and I went on by, and so did Lila.
“We don’t want to be disturbed,” Gale said, and bolted the door.
“Why not?” I inquired.
He faced me, and from a distance of five arms’ length, with Lila between us, I had my first good view of the eyes behind the specs. I had never seen a pair like them. They not only had no pupils, they had no irises. For a second I thought they were glassies, but obviously he could see, so evidently he had merely been short-changed. Whoever had assembled him had forgotten to color his irises. It didn’t make him look any handsomer.
“Because,” he was telling me, “this is a private matter. You see, I recognized you, Mr. Goodwin. Your face is not as well known as your employer’s, but it has been in the papers on several occasions, and you were in my mind on account of the news. The radio bulletins have included the detail that Nero Wolfe and his assistant were present and engaged by Mr. Chisholm. So when I saw you with my niece I recognized you and realized we should talk privately. But you’re an impulsive young man, and for fear you may not like what I say, I make conditions. I shall stay here near the door. You will move to that packing case back of you and sit on it, with your hands in sight and making no unnecessary movements. My niece will put the chair here in front of me and sit on it, facing you, between you and me. That way I will feel free to talk.”
I thought he was batty. As a setup against one of my impulses, including a gun if I had had one, it made no sense at all. I backed up to the packing case and lowered myself, resting my hands on my knees to humor him. When Lila saw me complying she moved the chair, the only one there, as directed, and sat with her back to him. He, it appeared, was going to make a phone call. He did touch the phone, which was on a narrow counter at his right under the shelves of bottles, but only to push it aside. Then he picked up a large bottle of colorless liquid, removed the glass stopper, held it to his nose, and sniffed.
“I do not have fainting spells,” he said apologetically, “but at the moment I am a little unstrung. Seeing my niece here with you was a real shock for me. I came back here to consider what it might mean, but reached no conclusion. Perhaps you’ll explain?”
“Your niece will. Tell him, Lila.”
She started to twist around in the chair, but he commanded her, “No, my dear, stay as you were. Face Mr. Goodwin.” He took another sniff at the bottle, keeping it in his hand.
She obeyed. “It’s Bill,” she said. “They’re going to arrest him for murder, and they mustn’t. They won’t, if we tell them how you offered to pay him for fixing the game and he wouldn’t do it. He won’t tell them on account of me, so we have to. I know I promised you I wouldn’t, but now I’ve got to. You see how it is, Uncle Dan, I’ve got to. I told Mr. Goodwin, to get him to come along. The best way—”
“You haven’t told the police, Lila dear?”
“No. I thought the best way was to come and get you to go with me, and I was afraid to come alone, because I know how bad it will be for you — but it will be worse for Bill if we don’t. Don’t you see, Uncle—”
“Keep your back turned, Lila. I insist on it. That’s right, stay that way.” He had been talking in an even low tone, but now it became thin and strained, as though his throat had tightened. “I’ll tell why I want your back to me, so I can’t see your face. Remember, Goodwin, don’t move. This is a bottle of pure sulphuric acid. I was smelling it just to explain why I had it; of course it has no smell. I suppose you know what it will do. This bottle is nearly full, and I’m holding it carefully, because one drop on your skin will scar you for life. That’s why I want your back to me, Lila. I’m very fond of you — sit still! And I don’t want to see your face if I have to use this acid. If you move, Lila dear, I’ll use it. Or you, Goodwin — especially you. I hope you both understand?”
Lila was stiff, white, pop-eyed, gazing at me. I may have been stiff too; anyhow, I didn’t move. His hand holding the bottle was raised, hovering six inches above her head. She looked as if she might keel over, and I urged her, “Sit tight, Lila, and for God’s sake don’t scream.”
“Yes,” Uncle Dan said approvingly, “I should have mentioned that. Screaming would be as bad as moving. I had to tell you about the acid before I discussed matters. I’m not surprised at your fantastic suggestion, Lila, because I know how foolish you can be, but I’m surprised at you, Goodwin. How would you expect me to take a suggestion that I consent to my complete ruin? When I saw her and recognized you I knew she must have told you. Of course you couldn’t know what kind of man you had to deal with, but you know now. Did Lila persuade you that I am an utter fool, a jellyfish?”
“I guess she must have,” I admitted. “What kind of a man are you?”
He proceeded to tell me, and I proceeded to pretend I was listening. I also tried to keep my eyes on his pale tight-skinned face, but that wasn’t easy because they were fascinated by the damn bottle he was holding. Meanwhile my brain was buzzing. Unless he was plain loony the only practical purpose of the bottle must be to gain time, and for what?
“... and I will,” he was saying. “This won’t kill you, Lila dear, but it will be horrible, and I don’t want to do it unless I have to. Only you mustn’t think I won’t. You don’t really know me very well, because to you I’m just Uncle Dan. You didn’t know that I once had a million dollars and I was an important man and a dangerous man. There were people who knew me and feared me, but I was unlucky. I have gambled and made fortunes, and lost them. That affects a man’s nerves. It changes a man’s outlook on life. I borrowed enough money to buy this place, and for years I worked hard and did well — well enough to pay it all back, but that was my ruin. I owed nothing and had a little cash and decided to celebrate by losing a hundred dollars to some old friends — just a hundred dollars — but I didn’t lose, I won several thousand. So I went on and lost what I had won, and I lost this place. I don’t own this place, my friends do. They are very old friends, and they gave me a chance to get this place back. I’m telling you about this, Lila dear, because I want you to understand. I came to you and Bill with that offer because I had to, and you promised me, you swore you would tell no one. I have been an unlucky man, and sometimes a weak one, but I am never going to be weak again — don’t move!”
Lila, who had lifted her head a little, stiffened. I sat gazing at Gale. Obviously he was stalling for time, but what could he expect to happen? It could be only one thing: he expected somebody to come. He expected help. Then he had asked for it, and it was no trick to guess when. As soon as he had seen us he had scooted back here to phone somebody. Help was on the way, and it had to be the kind of help that would deal with Lila and me efficiently and finally; and bigtime gamblers who can provide ten grand to fix a game are just the babies to be ready with that kind of help. In helping with Lila and me they would probably also settle Uncle Dan, since they like to do things right, but that was his lookout, not mine.
Either he was loony or that was it. Doping that was a cinch, but then what? They might come any second; he couldn’t be expected to stand and dangle the damn bottle all night; they might be entering the drugstore right now. At a knock on the door he would reach behind him and push the bolt — and here they are. Any second...
He was talking. “... I didn’t think you would, Lila, after all I’ve done for you. You promised me you wouldn’t. Now, of course, you’ve told Goodwin and it can’t be helped. If I just tip this bottle a little, not much—”
“Nuts,” I said emphatically, but not raising my voice. “You haven’t got it staged right.” I had my eyes straight at his specs. “Maybe you don’t want to see her face, but the way you’ve got her, with her back to you, it’s no good. What if she suddenly ducked and dived forward? You might get some on her clothes or her feet, but the chair would be in your way. Have you considered that? Better still, what if she suddenly darted sideways in between those cartons? The instant she moved I would be moving too, and that would take her out of my path, and before you could get at her with that stuff I’d be there. She’d be taking a chance, but what the hell, that would be better than sitting there waiting for the next act. Unquestionably it would be better for her to go sideways, with her head down and her arms out. You see how bum your arrangement is? But if you make her turn around facing you—”
She moved. She went sideways, to her left, her head down and her arms out, diving for the cartons.
I lost a tenth of a second because I hadn’t dared to pull my feet back ready for the spring, but that was all I lost. I didn’t leap, I just went, with all the force my leg muscles could give it. My target was the bottom of the left front leg of the chair, and I went in flat, face down, and had the leg before he could get under way. The impact of the chair knocked him back against the door, and I kept going and grabbed his ankle and jerked. Of course the bottle could have landed right on me, but I had to get him off his feet. As I yanked his ankle I kept my face down, and as he tumbled I felt nothing hit me. The next thing I knew I was on top of him, pinning him, with a grip on his throat, looking around for the bottle. It had never reached the floor. It had landed on a carton six feet to my right and was there on its side, the stuff gurgling out. The floor slanted toward the wall, and no flood threatened me.
“Okay, Lila,” I said. “I need help.”
She was scrambling to her feet. “Did he — did it—” She giggled.
“No. If you have hysterics I’ll tell Bill. Slap yourself, I can’t. It’s there on a carton, and don’t go near it.”
“But he — my God, he—”
“Shut up. Company’s coming, and we’ve got to get out of here. I want some adhesive tape, quick. Find some.” She moved and started looking on shelves and in drawers. I kept talking, thinking it would help. “A drugstore is a handy place — sulphuric acid, adhesive tape, everything you might need. Watch your step; it’s spreading on the floor. When I said I was good with uncles I didn’t mean uncles like him. He’s a lulu. He may have been—”
“Here it is.”
“Good girl. Tear off a piece six inches long — that’s it. No, you’ll have to do it; if I turn loose of his throat he’ll squawk. Across his mouth, good and tight — not that way, diagonal. That’s right. Now one the other way. That ought to do it, thank you, nurse. Now find some nice sterile bandage...”
She found that too and held his arms while I sat on his knees and tied his ankles. Then I fastened his wrists behind him and anchored the strip of bandage to the handle of a locked drawer. I squatted for a look at the tape on his mouth, gave it a rub, stood up, went to the door and pushed the bolt, and told her, “Come on.”
“But we ought to make—”
“Come on, damn it! If company is on its way, and I think it is, it won’t be bottle-danglers. If you like this place you can stay, but I’m going. Well?”
I opened the door, and she passed through. I followed and pulled the door to. There were customers on the fountain stools, though not the same ones, and Henry was selling a man a pack of cigarettes. I paused on my way to the street door to tell him that Mr. Gale would be out soon, then opened the door for Lila. On the sidewalk I told Lila to go wait in the car while I made a phone call. Then I saw she was trembling all over, so I escorted her and got her safely on the front seat.
Up twenty paces was a bar and grill, and I walked to it, entered, found a phone booth, dialed WA 9–8241, asked for Sergeant Purley Stebbins, and got him. He wanted to know if I was up at the Polo Grounds.
I told him no. “Where I am,” I said, “is top secret. I’m giving you a hot one. Put this down; Gale’s Pharmacy, nine-two-three-two Eighth Avenue. Get a prowl car there fast, and plenty of reinforcements. Gale, the owner, on information received, was the go-between for the gamblers who fixed the ball game. He is in the back room of his store, gagged and tied. The reason—”
“Is this a gag?”
“No. The reas—”
“Where are you?”
“Quit interrupting or I’ll ring off. The reason for the hurry is that I think Gale sent for a rescue squad to deal with certain parties who are no longer there, and it would be nice to get there in time to welcome them. So PD cars should not park in front. Be sure to tell them not to step in the stuff on the floor that looks like water, because it’s sulphuric acid. That’s all. Got the address?”
“Yes, and I want—”
“Sorry, I’ve got a date. This could make you a lieutenant. Step on it.”
I went out and back to the car. Lila was on the driver’s side, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. As I opened the door her head turned to me.
“Move over,” I said. “I’ll do the driving this time.”
She slid across, and I got in and pulled the door to. I sat. Half a minute went by.
“Where are we going?” she asked. Her voice was so low and weak I barely got it.
“Polo Grounds. Where Bill is.” Maybe he was.
“Why don’t we start?”
“I phoned for cops. If others come before the cops do I want to get a look at them. In case I forget it later, I want to mention that that was a beautiful dive you made, and the timing couldn’t have been better. I’m for you — only spiritual, of course, since you’re happily married.”
“I want to get away from here. I want to see Bill.”
“You will. Relax.”
We sat, but not for long. It couldn’t have been more than four minutes before a pair of cops swung around the corner, headed for the entrance to Gale’s Pharmacy, and entered. Glancing at Lila and seeing that her eyes were closed, I pushed the starter button.