Every Bet's a Sure Thing by Thomas B. Dewey

Author:Thomas B. Dewey [Dewey, Thomas B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, detective, crime, sleuth, murder
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2015-07-28T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

I closed the door and leaned against it. There was quite a lot to see of Donovan, from his broad, flat feet up over his round but solid paunch to his wide, sloping shoulders and that round, ugly, beautiful, mashed in, weather-beaten face. As I watched, the face relaxed into an Irish grin.

“Hello, shamus,” he said, growling it. “Don’t you ever get in off the town?”

“Well, copper,” I said. “Don’t you ever knock?”

“I knocked, boy,” he said. “I knocked with brass knuckles. Nobody answered. So I came on in.”

“Walked right through the door,” I said.

“To tell you the truth, one of the house dicks here is an old friend of mine, a fine chap by the name of Kerrigan. Used to serve with the Chicago police—a great organization of upstandin’ gentlemen, as you know yourself—”

“Lieutenant, you’re drunk.”

“Me? Don’t be insultin’, boy. I was swillin’ down Irish whisky before you were considered fit for this world.”

It was just talk. Donovan wasn’t a drinking man.

“Sit down,” he said. “Make yourself at home. Have a drink.”

He waved his arm generously.

“It’s a fine layout you have here,” he said. “I’m glad to see that the International Detective Agency is willin’ to pay you such a handsome sum that you can afford to put up in a fine hotel such as this. Tell me—what did you have to do for the money?”

“Just a little dope peddling,” I said. “Not hard work, really, but risky.”

“I trust you acquitted yourself in a manner befittin’ the dignity of our proud profession,” he said.

He was really going good. I was sorry to be so tired.

“I did, I did,” I said. “I used you as a reference. ‘Lieutenant Donovan sent me,’ I said, and old Cokie Joe let me right in.”

I had no appetite for it, but I mixed myself a drink so Donovan wouldn’t have to drink alone.

“How’d you know where I was staying?” I asked him.

“You forget, son,” he said, “it was me that got you this job. I called the people that hired you. I told ’em I came out to help. I didn’t bother mentioning I was coming out anyway to see my daughter Morrie. They said you were livin’ at the good old Ambassador… And a fortunate thing too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Because two can live as cheap as one in a place like this.”

“What?”

“Sure. This is ritzier than at Morrie’s, but where would an old policeman like me get the money for a set-up like this? But I got you, shamus, and now I don’t need money.”

“Is that right, now?” I said. “Well, listen to me, flat-foot. For two people, this room costs damn near double. If you think I’m going to support you in idle luxury—”

“So!” he said. “I never thought I’d live to see the day when the man I raised from a pup would turn me out—”

“Listen, pop—”

I had eased myself out of my shoes and was leaning back in the chair, holding my drink. I guess I looked a little gray. Because all at once Donovan’s horse play stopped.

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