Top of the Heap by Erle Stanley Gardner Read Free Book Online Page A

wouldn’t have asked a question of any one, let alone the whole five.”
    “How much did he pay Sylvia? Do you know?”
    “He and Sylvia are—” She held up her hand with the first and second fingers crossed.
    I said, “I’m sorry I disturbed you.”
    “Don’t mention it. It was all part of the two hundred and fifty bucks. I rather expected you last night but Sylvia telephoned you had to go back to Los Angeles.”
    I nodded.
    “You must be wearing out airplanes.”
    “I’m moving around.”
    “Now what do I do?”
    “Keep quiet.”
    “Do I ring Sylvia and tell her that you were wise all along, that you trapped me and—”
    “Then what would Sylvia do?”
    “Oh,” she said, “Sylvia would blame it all on me. She’d swear she’d pulled the wool over your eyes and everything was fine until you came to talk with me, and then I let the cat out of the bag. That’s all right; you couldn’t expect Sylvia to take any responsibility, not with it being one of her boyfriends.”
    “How many does she have?”
    “Two or three.”
    “How many do you have?”
    “None of your business.”
    “A lot of things are going to be my business. How many do you have?”
    She looked at me and said, “None. Not in the way that you mean.”
    I said, “That’s the answer that I expected.”
    “It happens to be true.”
    “I think it is,” I told her and got up from the chair. “Can you tell me why Sylvia happened to pick on you to back up her story?”
    “Because we’re friends.”
    “Any other reason?”
    “And I was available.”
    “Meaning what?”
    “That I happened to be taking a week of my vacation. That meant no one could check on me and find I’d been at work when I said I’d been in Los Angeles.
    “I guess Sylvia would rather have had one of her other friends. We’re not too close. But the vacation business gotme the two-fifty. Nice business, isn’t it? Once you can get it. Tell me, Donald, am I in bad?”
    “Not with me.”
    “With anyone?”
    “Not yet.”
    “But I shouldn’t stick with the story?”
    “I wouldn’t.”
    “Where are you going now?”
    “To work.”
    “Can’t I fix you a cup of coffee?”
    I shook my head.
    “And you’re not going to tell Sylvia I spilled the beans?”
    “No.”
    “What do I tell her?”
    “Tell her I showed up and asked you questions.”
    “And that’s all?”
    “That’s all.”
    She said, “You’re letting me off pretty easy, aren’t you, Donald?”
    “I’m trying to.”
    She said, “Thanks. I’ll remember it.”
    I closed the door, walked down the two flights of steps, and went to police headquarters.
    I picked a man who looked as though he might be able to do me some good, got acquainted, showed him my credentials, said, “I want information. It’s information that’s a matter of public record but I want to get it fast. I’m going to need a little help. I’m willing to pay for it.”
    I took out a ten-dollar bill.
    “What’s the information?”
    “I want to get a list of hit-and-run driving accidents on last Tuesday night.”
    “Just hit-and-run?”
    “I’d like the whole crime list — but hit-and-run particularly.”
    “Can you give me the location?”
    “Just anywhere around this part of the country.”
    He said, “Why the hit-and-run? You got a hunch?”
    I shook my head. “I haven’t a thing that will be of any help to you. I don’t even know it’s hit-and-run, but judging from the type of man I’m dealing with I think it might be hit-and-run. That looks like the most obvious explanation.”
    “Explanation for what?”
    “Explanation for why I gave you ten bucks to dig up the information for me.”
    He said, “Sit right here, buddy. I’ll be back.”
    I sat there and cussed myself for having associated with Bertha so long I was picking up her ways. Fifty dollars would have done the job. Ten bucks wasn’t enough. However, I’d heard Bertha scream so much about expenses that I’d unconsciously begun to start