Black Mask (Vol. 29, No. 3 — January 1947)

There was no time to figure it. It looked as if Tommy were going to duck through the door into the factory building, but he’d taken only a step or two when a bark from Happy Lado stopped him. Slabbe saw Happy pointing through the windshield of the car he was driving and swiveled in time to see Max Tezzaro’s black sedan tooling down the street.

Tommy leaped back beside Happy and they rolled after Tezzaro’s car. Slabbe scanned the street, grimaced. There wasn’t a taxicab in sight. He’d have to trust Charlie Somers to handle it alone. He stepped out of the doorway and started up the street. He could see Tezzaro’s car about two blocks ahead, followed by Tommy and Happy. Slabbe watched them with the interest of a professional, shook his head at their lack of finesse. They were gunning to get close behind Tezzaro. They’d give themselves away. Then Slabbe got it, snapped his fingers and started to run.

Tommy and Happy weren’t merely tailing Tezzaro — they were gunning for him!

Slabbe was running while it all happened. The two cars rocked even for a second as Happy and Tommy caught up, then Happy swung his wheel right, bearing down in Tezzaro’s path. Tezzaro’s rubber squealed as he cut off to the side and suddenly jammed on his brakes.

Tommy Rex was out of the car again, but this time he moved fast. He wrenched open the door of Tezzaro’s car. Both his hands jumped at Tezzaro, the left to clutch the man’s lapel, the right to strike a piston blow to Tezzaro’s jaw. Then Tommy was dragging Tezzaro out of the car. He hit him twice more when he had him on the street, and the man sagged.

Tommy caught him. Happy Lado put out a helping hand and dragged Tezzaro into their car. Tommy slammed the front door, yanked open the back one and jumped in. They rolled again.

Slabbe, still running toward them, looked ahead anxiously for Charlie Somers’ jaloppy. If he hadn’t seen it, he would have jumped into Tezzaro’s car and followed, but Charlie’s old mud-streaked heap was idling along, still a block ahead of Tommy and Happy’s car. Besides, there was something in the back of Tezzaro’s sedan that made Slabbe lick his lips. Something wrapped in a big maroon auto blanket. Without even looking, he could tell what it was from its unmistakable shape. But of course he looked anyhow to make sure. It was the body of a blond woman.

Chapter Three

Nikki Wasn’t Tricky

She had been stabbed to death and not by an amateur, Slabbe saw. The knife had been slid home with a swift upward motion under the girl’s left shoulder. Guided smoothly by the killer’s thumb and forefinger, it had been necessary to use it only once.

The girl’s purse, a drawstring thing that matched her tailored gray suit, was wrapped in the blanket, too. Slabbe avoided the staring blue eyes and opened it. A compact and cigarette lighter bore the initials N.E., and a letter was addressed to Nikki Evans.

“Nup,” Slabbe grunted. “Nikki wasn’t tricky.” He noted that the letter was postmarked from St. Louis two days earlier and stuffed it into his pocket. A beat cop was lolling along down the street. Slabbe went to him, told him to get up to the shiny black car and do his stuff. He went on back to the building that housed the American Diamond Company, rounded it and entered the garage from which Max Tezzaro had driven. There was no one else on hand.

The letter to Nikki was signed “Pola.” It was a friendly letter that told that the two girls had been friends. The last paragraph was the most important. It said: “This boy friend of yours sounds good, but the boys want me to meet him and size him up before we meet Tommy. We three will arrive Wednesday morning, and Tommy will come down as soon as he gets discharged from the hospital the same day. I’ll come straight to your place and look over your friend, then go and meet Tommy and take him to the other boys. We’ll talk over your proposition then and let you know.”

Slabbe blew out his gum. The pattern seemed clear.

Nikki Evans and Pola obviously had been friends from away back and had kept in touch with each other. Nikki had picked herself a boy friend, by accident or design, who had connections in the diamond market. Lately, the boy friend’s business had been going to pot because his trained help were scooting back home to Europe. Nikki would have seen that her Maxie was ripe for a deal that would make him some cash to reconvert and, being friends with Pola, she’d have figured that Pola would be looking for a way to get rid of the stolen jewels.

So far so good: Nikki had broached the proposition to Pola. Pola had come here to look Max over. But then what had happened?

According to the letter, there had been no hint of double cross among the original heisters. Pola, Happy and Silk had arrived together this morning and Pola had come to Nikki’s apartment. Then something had happened and she got killed.