Sallys in the Alley | Page 5

as a hideout if that's the way you're going to
act?"
"Wha-wha-what?"
"Don't try that innocent stuff! I'm going to come down there and tear
you up in little pieces! Just listen!"
Doan kicked Carstairs again and then leaned down and held the
telephone close to his face. "Give," he whispered.
Carstairs snarled into the receiver. He looked enormously bored while
he was doing it, but over the telephone the sound must have been
horrible, because Carstairs had a company snarl that began low and
ended high and undulated blood-chillingly in the middle register.
"There!" said Doan into the telephone. "Did you hear that? That's just a
sample of what you're going to get when..." He listened and then said in
a milder inquiring tone, "Hello? Hello, Mr. Rogan? Are you there?"
There was no answer.
Doan put the telephone back on its stand, took hold of Carstairs' spiked
collar and heaved. "Come on. Hurry up."
Carstairs got up one foot at a time and sauntered to the door. Doan
opened it for him and picked up the suitcases and bunted Carstairs in
the rear with one of them.
"Go on. Get moving."
They went down the hall and down the stairs into the lobby. There was
not a soul in sight.

Doan put his bags down and hammered vigorously on the desk.
"Service! Service here! Mr. Rogan! Edmund!"
No one answered. No one appeared.
"Now imagine that," Doan said to Carstairs. "Obviously I can't be
expected to pay my bill if there isn't anyone to pay it to, can I? The
answer is no. So I won't pay. That will be a lesson to them to give more
attention to their business in the future."
He picked up the suitcases again and negotiated them and Carstairs
through the plate glass door. There was a black sedan glittering with
chrome and a beautifully high, lustrous polish parked at the curb.
"Ah-ha!" said Doan. He opened one of the rear doors and heaved the
bags inside and then walked all around the car twice, rubbing his hands
blissfully. "Take a squint at this, kid. We're coming up in the world...
Carstairs! Where are you?"
There was a slight typhoon taking place in the thick, neatly trimmed
shrubbery that marched precisely along the front of the apartment
building. Shrubs heaved back and forth wildly, and branches crackled.
"Carstairs!" Doan shouted. "Oh, you would pick a time like this! Rogan
is going to get over being scared and call copper on us or something if
we don't get out of here. Hurry up!"
Carstairs' head appeared out of the greenery. He did not look like he
was hurrying or even intended to. He blinked at Doan in a fatuous and
pleased way. Doan started for him. Carstairs sighed comfortably and
came out of the bushes. Doan got him by the collar and dragged him
across the walk to the open rear door of the Cadillac.
"Get in there!"
He heaved vigorously, and Carstairs allowed himself to be urged
through the door. Doan slammed it with a thump and crawled into the
front seat. He started the car and drove off down the street with a

viciously triumphant clashing of gears.
He drove over to Rossmore and up Rossmore to where it turns into
Vine, and up Vine to Sunset Boulevard. He swung around to the right
on Sunset, narrowly missing twenty-five sailors, sixteen soldiers and
two marines who were doing sentry duty on the corner in the hopes of
seeing a movie star. He drove two blocks farther and pulled up in front
of an open air market.
It was really quite a marvelous place. It covered an area half the size of
a city block, and you could buy anything in it from lollipops to life
insurance. Doan got out of the car and headed for the long and empty
meat counter. There was only one butcher behind it, and he looked as
though he wished he were somewhere else.
"I'd like a three-pound porterhouse steak," Doan told him.
"So would I," said the butcher.
"I know you've got one hidden out in the icebox," Doan said.
"How do you know?" the butcher asked.
"I'm a Japanese spy. We spies get around."
"Palooey," said the butcher in a disgusted tone. "Now it's jokes I have
to put up with. In my financial condition. All right. So suppose I've got
a steak in the icebox. So why should I give it to you?"
"That's my car out in front--the big, shiny one. Take a look at what's in
the back seat."
The butcher said: "I wouldn't care if..." He paused for a long moment.
"Just what is that?"
"A dog."
"It's got awful big teeth for a dog," the butcher said slowly. "And I
don't