Manhunt. Volume 9, Number 1, February 1961

Delaney turned in time to see Ziggy lurch to his knees. Ziggy was mouthing curses and shaking his head to clear it. He dragged the Luger from under his arm and swung its muzzle in a wavering arc. Before he could steady the gun, the toe of Delaney’s shoe broke his wrist. A bewildered expression crossed Ziggy’s face and he stared in wonder at his broken wrist. Then his other hand snaked out to the Luger on the floor. But Delaney stamped on the crooked fingers, breaking them, and kicked the gun out of reach. He jerked Ziggy to his feet and pinned him against the wall. He drove his knee into Ziggy’s groin and stepped back.

Ziggy was writhing and screaming on the floor. Delaney backed to the side of the room and pointed his .45 at the door. He wondered how long the screaming could continue unnoticed by the crowd around the bar. Then the door flew open.

Both of them were big, both were ill-fitted in tuxedos, both had bouncer written all over their coarse features. They came into the room with a rush, and the doorway behind them was immediately filled with the faces of a crowd attracted by the screaming. But the two stopped in their tracks when they saw the .45 in Delaney’s fist.

For a moment they stared at the gun as though fascinated, then, moving in unison, their eyes swung to the broken figures on the floor.

“Ziggy Weitzel—!”

“And Kostka!”

Their eyes swung back to Delaney. One of them said slowly:

“You’re dealing, mister. What’s the play?”

Delaney pointed with his chin, “Over there. Move.”

When the two moved, as directed, away from the door, he said flatly, “You know Ziggy and Kostka, so you must know who they work for. Tell their boss I don’t like being pushed around.”

The crowd fell back silently to let Delaney pass. He left the club unmolested and holstered his gun as he got into the Chrysler.

Delaney grinned when Eunice walked into his office the next morning. She was dressed in another frilly white blouse above the same black jersey skirt. But she was hatless. She had been to a hair dresser for a permanent and she was wearing lipstick. Delaney whistled softly and said:

“I knew it. Now, if you’d just change the shape of your glasses—”

“Mr. Delaney — please. It hasn’t made that much difference.” Eunice preened and laughed selfconsciously. She settled into a chair, placing her large leather bag on the corner of his desk and crossed her knees. Then her eyes widened.

“What... what happened to your face?”

Delaney gingerly touched the large bruise on his cheek and smiled wanly.

“Well, it seems I got into a little argument—” he let his voice trail off.

“Drinking, I suppose,” Eunice sniffed disdainfully.

“Bourbon,” Delaney answered gravely. “Lovely stuff.”

“Mr. Delaney, I’m not sure you’re very nice,” Eunice was shocked. After a pause, she asked, “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes — thanks for coming in. Now tell me, have you been to the police yet?”

“Oh no. I told you Mavis wouldn’t like that.” Eunice looked at Delaney hopefully. “You’ve changed your mind — you’re going to help me?”

Delaney nodded. “I went to that address you gave me yesterday. I had more success talking with the landlady than you did. I—”

“You know where Mavis moved? You’ve found her?” Eunice broke in eagerly.

Delaney shook his head. “No. I haven’t found Mavis yet.”

“Oh...” Eunice was let down and worried again. Then she asked hopefully, “But—?”

Delaney smiled. “I have a lead. I can’t tell you more than that. But I do have a lead and I hope to contact Mavis soon.”

“Contact her. Where?” Eunice leaned forward, her eyes wide, her lips parted eagerly.

Still smiling, Delaney answered, “I can’t tell you. It’s too indefinite yet.”

“But you must tell me. You must!” Eunice’s face was suddenly flushed and her eyes grew strained behind her glasses. Her fingers beat a nervous tattoo on the edge of his desk, then dove into her purse. She looked at him speculatively while she slowly pushed four fifty dollar bills across his desk.

Delaney’s eyes narrowed as he studied her face. After a moment, he picked up the bills and put them in his pocket. He said evenly:

“Your sister left that dump in Sawtelle to get out of town. Now, it seems, she’s coming back. I don’t know where she’s going to stay — or if she even has a place to stay. I do know that if I am in a particular place sometime during the next two days I may be able to contact her.”

Eunice glared at him, then forced herself to relax. The tension slowly left her slim figure, and she even achieved a smile.

“I’m sorry,” she said contritely.

“That’s the way it’s got to be,” Delaney said flatly.

Eunice picked up her bag and left her chair. She smiled apologetically and turned towards the door. She said, “You understand, it’s just I’m so worried about her.”

“Of course,” Delaney answered perfunctorily without rising. He watched the deliberate swish of her hips as she left his office. Then his face hardened and he stared thoughtfully at the door.