The Avenger 21 - The Happy Killers by Kenneth Robeson Read Free Book Online

anything points, not to flight, but to a kidnapping.”
    Mac heard Josh gasp a little, and the Scot felt like gasping himself. What on earth made the boss think of kidnapping? Who would kidnap the dreamy-eyed chemist, and why? But Mac knew he’d get no answers to questions, so he didn’t ask them.
    The Avenger turned the dial to the regular police band. And in so doing he just missed the voice of a third member of the band, not addressed to him, but to the giant, Smitty.
    This was the voice of diminutive Nellie Gray.
    Smitty, in an inspired moment, had designed little belt radios for the crime-fighting band. Hardly larger than cigar cases, they were curved to fit the waist and could be worn under a belt so snugly that they hardly caused a perceptible bulge.
    Nellie was using her belt radio now, calling Smitty on it. The reason she was calling the giant was that she had uncovered something which she thought she might need help on, but which might not be important enough to transmit to Dick Benson.

    Her job had been to try to trace the Browns’ maid from the Great Neck railroad station. She’d started there with the same disappointing lack of results which the police had gotten. The agent didn’t remember what the girl looked like; he hadn’t really seen her face because her mannish hat was pulled so low. She’d gotten on the 12:21 train to town.
    Nellie learned that the same train crew would be on the 6:40 train. She waited and took that, then talked to the conductor.
    Yes, he remembered the girl who’d gotten on at Great Neck last night. He remembered her because she was the only one at that station. Also, he remembered her because she’d had a ticket for the end of the hne, and had gotten off only three stops down from Great Neck.
    “You’re sure?” asked Nellie, hiding her excitement at this.
    “I’m sure,” said the conductor. “Say, are you with the police?”
    “In a way,” said Nellie. Which was true enough. All the members of the band had police credentials entitling them to police support.
    “Good. You tell them, then. I was questioned this morning and forgot about her getting off three stations down. I just remembered it a while ago.”
    Nellie got off where the girl had the night before. She had information even the police didn’t have. She hoped it would lead to something.
    It was going to lead to something, all right. Something that would curl her silky blond hair for her. But she had no premonition of that.
    At the small station which was third down the line from Great Neck, she went to the cab stand. Had any of the drivers seen a girl in a mannish hat, pulled low over her face, come out of the station last night after midnight? Had any of them driven her anywhere?
    It looked as if she were going to draw a blank. None knew anything about the girl. But then a cab drew up from a job, and a black-haired, cheerful young fellow jumped out. When Nellie put the question to him, he nodded.
    “Yeah, I saw a dame like that. Didn’t drive her; she didn’t take a cab. She started hoofing it up that street, Maple Street. There’s a beer joint up three blocks. See the sign? It’s the only thing open around here after midnight. She may have gone there.”
    Nellie went to the beer joint, drawing a lot of admiring glances as she entered. The bartender’s glance was just as admiring. She smiled sweetly at him.
    “I’m trying to locate a girl friend of mine,” she said. “I think she came in here last night for a minute. Half-past twelve or one o’clock. Were you on duty then?”
    “I’m always on duty,” the bartender complained cheerfully. “I own the joint. What’s your friend look like?”
    Nellie gave the description of the maid—rather tall, quite nice-looking, dark hair in a long bob. “She had on a kind of man’s hat,” Nellie finished. “She always wore it low over her face. You might not have seen her face because of the hat.”
    That did it, it seemed. The bartender nodded