Ace G-Man Stories Spring 1940 by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Pulp
Publisher: Ace G-Man Stories
Published: 1940-04-03T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 3

Little Ol’ Fightin’ Boy

“I tell you, I know that dame!” The Sydney Gimp was insistent. “But by blinkin’ memory—”

“Can it!” hissed Jerry. Again he kicked the Gimp—made it a good one, this time—for she was returning. She placed two steaming coffee cups before them.

Jerry made an elaborate salute to the coffee. “Little lady,” he said, “this is manna from heaven.” Playing the part of the light-hearted, devil-may-care rambler had become second nature to him. “Just enter the other nickel on the books, and I’ll have my secretary mail you a check.”

A little quickening of her pulses heightened the rare color of her cheeks. “It’s all right about the extra coffee,” she said, a trifle breathlessly.

She was staring at him oddly, and he could tell that she was either a little excited or a little frightened. More like the latter, he thought, for she kept casting hurried glances toward the big dark man across the horseshoe counter:

Jerry ventured a glance that way, and saw beady black eyes studying him in keen suspicion. The man’s bulging muscles made his short-sleeved sport shirt seem absurdly tight. His face was not unhandsome under crisp black curling hair, but his eyes were those of a man who knew his great strength and loved to use it. And, Jerry surmised, he was just drunk enough to bring out the meanness in him,

He brought his great fist down on the counter, made the cutlery jingle. “Maree!” he rapped out, and the girl turned away hurriedly, went over to him.

So, that’s the name Molly Pitcher was using—but why? The big guy knew her, all right, yet there was nothing strange about that. These truck drivers had their favorite eating places, made them a habit, and their way with the various waitresses was far from stilted or formal. But the girl was afraid of the man.

He reached forth a great knotted fist and grasped her wrist. “Since when,’’ he demanded, half-possessively, half-angrily, “did you begin neglecting Carlo Pezzo for a couple of road runners?”

So the guy was Carlo Pezzo. Well, it didn’t mean a thing to Jerry, but his manner with Molly Pitcher grated on the nerves of the phantom Fed like chisel on stone. She was the wife of a murdered G-man, and Jerry had consecrated his energies and his life if need be, to bring that murderer to justice. He knew he would need all his cunning, his cool headedness and restraint. But when Carlo laid his predatory hands on the girl, something flamed in Jerry’s brain. A slow rage pulled him to his feet.

“Let go, please. You’re hurting my arm,” the girl said.

Carlo Pezzo’s eyes gleamed with the pleasure of giving pain…and, besides, jealousy ate at his brain. He had, in his self-sufficient mind, picked the girl with the steady blue eyes to be his own, and her instinctive friendliness toward Jerry had nettled him. He clamped down a little tighter on her arm.

Jerry saw that too; saw her wince with pain. He was close to Carlo Pezzo now.

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