Johnny Liddell Mystery Crime Box Set by Frank Kane

Author:Frank Kane
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime Fiction Organized Crime, Crime Fiction Kidnapping, Mystery Crime Series, crime fiction vigilante justice, mystery hard boiled, mickey spillane, micky spillane, mike hammer
Publisher: Golden Retro Publishing
Published: 2016-08-07T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Johnny Liddell pushed open the door to his office. The redhead favored him with a sour glance, consulted the small baguette on her wrist. "You get a couple of bucks in the bank and you start keeping banker's hours," she complained.

"Something doing?" he wanted to know.

The redhead consulted some penciled notations on the pad on her desk. Liddell noted with approval that the sheer silk blouse she was wearing this morning made no attempt to discount her assets.

"The Martin kid's been calling you every ten minutes on the ten minutes." She glanced up. "You haven't taken up baby sitting, have you?"

Liddell shook his head. "She wanted me to drop by her place last night and I managed to resist the temptation."

Pinky eyed him skeptically. "Don't tell me you've really found one who's too young?"

"I don't know about her being too young. The way she looked at me last night she's eighteen going on thirty-five. But I decided not to mix business with pleasure."

The redhead snorted. "That'll be the day." She glanced down at her notes. "There's been another female calling in every few minutes." She squinted at the scribble on the pad. "A Delia Lewson." She looked up. "Sounded a little older."

Liddell bobbed his head. "Elvin Martin's private secretary."

"She keeps telling me to tell you how grateful she is." She studied him with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. "You got some hidden talent I don't know about?"

Liddell grinned at her, pushed through the gate, headed for the private office. "Get the Martin kid on the phone for me, will you, Pink?"

He walked in, closed the door behind him, and was standing at the window looking over at the Public Library when the telephone rang. He turned, picked up the receiver. "Yeah?"

"I was expecting to hear from you last night," Dolores Martin's voice at the other end told him accusingly, without preliminaries.

"By the time I was finished, it was too late to come calling."

"I told you it wouldn't be too late no matter what time it was," she pouted. "You promised to come."

Liddell sighed, reached for a cigarette. "I told you I'd drop by to report if there was anything to report. I didn't get anything worth reporting so I figured I'd wait until I had something to tell you."

The girl refused to be mollified. "You mean you spent all that time with Delia Lewson?" she wanted to know. "But you couldn't spend a few minutes with me?"

Liddell lit the cigarette, drew a mouthful of smoke, and blew it at the ceiling. "I spent only enough time with Lewson to find out who the private detective was your father hired. You may be glad to know that I was about as welcome dropping by her place as a case of smallpox in a crowded subway."

"I'm glad. Here I've been thinking all kind of awful things about you and Delia and—"

The door to the private office opened, a broad-shouldered man pushed past a protesting Pinky into the office.

"Hold it a minute, Dolores," Liddell told the girl.

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