Riggs is Here | Page 8

don't feel so good."
Barnelley looked at him sympathetically "You've had quite a time of it tonight at that."
"Yeah!" Tommy said. "I guess that's it." When Barnelley let him out, he shuddered a little bit. He was thinking about Carey, in his pajamas, tied up with tape on the cement floor of the garage.
THE next afternoon Tommy was sitting in the bar in Ryan's restaurant. Over a glass of beer, he was telling Mac behind the bar:
"Carey's a funny guy. I've been thinking that maybe he's going to be sore for a while. But if I crack another case and show him--"
A voice behind him grated out: "Like hell you will!"
Tommy turned around and saw Carey's bleak, hawklike face.
"Oh!" Tommy said. "Eh-- hello, Mr. Carey."
"Bourbon!" Carey strode to the bar. "Strong and straight." He scowled at Tommy. "So you think you're a shamus!"
"Yeah!" Tommy admitted. "Look at what I did last night." When Carey grunted and scowled harder, he said: "Maybe I did make one mistake. But I got Setter didn't I? I--"
"Luck!" Carey sneered. "Nothing but plain, damn-fool luck!"
Tommy leaned forward suddenly. "Say, Mr. Carey! That's something I've never told you. Me! I'm lucky, lucky as hell. A cop without luck isn't much good--but I've got plenty of it. If you'd think about that, and forget about what happened--"
Carey snorted. "Forget!" He picked up his bourbon, tipped it. "Like hell I'll forget! I don't have to learn a lesson twice. You come around tomorrow, Riggs--I'll have a job for you. I can keep you outta my hair that way--maybe."
So the next morning Tommy showed up at the International Agency's office. He grinned at the secretary and said: "Tell the boss, Riggs is here."

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