Uneasy Lies the Dead by Chaber M. E. & Crossen Kendell Foster

Author:Chaber, M. E. & Crossen, Kendell Foster [Chaber, M. E. & Crossen, Kendell Foster]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Pulp
Publisher: Holt, Rinehart and Winston
Published: 1964-02-12T05:00:00+00:00

7

As the cab pulled away I turned and looked through the rear window. Jerry Dell was on the sidewalk, propped up on one elbow. For a minute it looked as if he were going to pull his gun. His right hand was already groping beneath his coat. Then he must have realized it was too dangerous. His hand slowly came into sight again and he got to his feet. He hurried to the sedan and they took off after us.

The driver must have been watching in his rear-view mirror. “He’s following us,” he said nervously. “What is this, mister?”

“Don’t worry,” I told him. “They won’t do anything now. They’ve been following me since yesterday. They won’t do any more—now.”

“You’re sure, mister? I’ve got a wife and kids. Maybe we ought to stop the first cop we come to.”

“It wouldn’t do any good. Anyway, when they try to do anything to me, it won’t be out in the open like this.”

“Okay, mister. Where to?”

I thought for a minute. “You’d better take me to the Peraton Hotel first.”

“Okay…Say, that was a beautiful right, mister. A little bit harder and they’d been counting over him.”

“I didn’t want to knock him out. I just wanted to hurt him a little, mostly in the ego.”

He drove in silence for a couple of minutes. “It’s none of my business, mister,” he said then, “but what was that about?”

“What union do you belong to?” I asked.

“Drivers Union. Why?” He sounded puzzled.

“Ever hear of the Carrier Workers union?”

“That bunch of gangsters! They been trying to take us over for the last five years. What’s that got to do with it?”

“The man I knocked down is one of the hoods who works for the Carrier Workers.”

“You should’ve hit him harder! How come he’s following you?”

“I’m trying to pin something on his union leader,” I said. ‘“He’s following me to see where I go and what I do.”

“You some kind of cop?”

“Some kind.”

“Then I’m with you, mister. I got a handy lug wrench up here in front and if we need help I can get a dozen cabbies on the radiophone.”

“I don’t think we’ll need them,” I said, ‘‘but thanks.”

When we reached the hotel I paid him for what was on the meter but asked him to wait. He said he would and I went upstairs. I’d decided that I’d pushed Jerry Dell enough to have to take out some insurance.

Up in the room I checked my gun permit to make sure that it was still valid. It was. I took the shoulder holster from my suitcase and strapped it on. I checked the .38 and slipped it into the holster. I put a box of shells in my pocket and went back down to the street. The driver was still waiting. I climbed in and gave him the address I had for Adam Jablonsky. The sedan was following as we pulled away from the curb.

It was a working-class neighborhood filled with apartment buildings, all dingy and looking alike. I had the driver wait and I went looking.

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