Little Miss Murder by Michael Avallone

Author:Michael Avallone [Avallone, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-07-07T22:00:00+00:00

9

Suicide Squeeze

At nine-fifteen the next morning, I was getting out of a cab in front of the office. The new day had brought a brand new sun smiling down and, despite the three disasters screaming at me personally from the newspapers, I felt all right. Coming over from the apartment in the cab, I'd had time to find the item about Blassingame and digest the import, if allied, between the death of Garnu Sin and the blitzkrieg of the UN building. There was still the all-important business of meeting Christian Godlove at Rockefeller Plaza at ten o'clock. I'd sent Felicia Carr on her way right after breakfast to check with her Naval Intelligence people on what had happened to Louise Warrington Paul at Penn Station, if anything. Felicia was going to meet me at the Plaza. I'd decided to stop by the office, bring Melissa Mercer as up-to-date as I could, and generally see if anyone was looking for me with any urgent business.

It was only a ten-minute walk to the Plaza, so I had the time. Also, I didn't quite have a plan formulated as to how to handle Mr. Godlove. He was expecting me to show up with an autographed baseball that was loaded with international dynamite and attendant repercussions. Most of what I intended to do was all wrapped up in what Felicia Carr could tell me before she picked him out of the crowd. Felicia's arm was still bothering her, having tightened up in the cast, but you'd never have known it from the cheery face she put on. The lady had guts as well as beauty. I may fall in love too easily, but I never picked a loser in my life. Not without a struggle, at any rate.

With all that lined up and ready, I wasn't exactly prepared for the sight of Melissa Mercer, all togged out in a pea-green sheath skirt and blouse, waiting for me in the foyer of the building. As soon as she saw me, her face broke open with relief and she pulled me to the wall. In her hands was a small, square, brown-paper parcel. My brain and my instincts flipped. The box was just large enough to accommodate one baseball. Any kind of baseball.

"Thank God," Mel breathed in a low voice. "I tried to call you at the apartment but you must have left already—"

"Easy. What's up?"

"Monks is here. Upstairs. With some plainclothesmen. He wouldn't tell me what about. But he doesn't look as friendly as usual. So I wanted to prepare you, just in case you need a story for him. Not knowing what you're up to."

'I've got nothing to hide from him. Nothing illegal. What's in the box?"

She shook her head. "What you and I both think it is. It came just before they got here. Delivered by a boy. No official messenger or anything. He said an old woman gave him five dollars to bring it up. Look, Ed. I gotta get back up there.

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