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datatime: 2022-09-25 16:15:36 Author:sdhlgrvp

"Well, well, sit down," Madder said. "Glad to see you." He fussed around behind his desk and adjusted a burst-out seat cushion, sat on it. "Nice of you to drop around. Business?"

I reached for his telephone, which was the old-fashioned gallows type. I lifted off the receiver and started to dial the number of Police Headquarters, very slowly. I knew he would know that number about as well as he knew his hat.

"No," I lied. "Why should I see him?"

"The one that phoned me."

Madder opened a flat tin of cigarettes and pushed one past his lips with a sound like somebody gutting a fish. His hand shook.

He didn't look at me. "About how we could do a little business together. Say, in stones."

He didn't look at me. "About how we could do a little business together. Say, in stones."

He didn't look at me. "About how we could do a little business together. Say, in stones."

"The one that phoned me."

"Any ideas?" he asked softly.

I stepped inside and waited for the door to squeak shut. A bare carpetless room paved in brown linoleum, a flat desk and a rolltop at right angles to it, a big green safe that looked as fireproof as a delicatessen bag, two filing cases, three chairs, a built-in closet and washbowl in the corner by the door.

A woman's voice said: "Marlowe?" It was a small, tight, cold voice. I didn't know it.

Madder opened a flat tin of cigarettes and pushed one past his lips with a sound like somebody gutting a fish. His hand shook.

There was a sudden tinkling, icy-cold laugh on the wire. "On account of a guy had sore feet," the voice said.

I said slowly: "They want to talk to you. On account of you know a broad that knows a man had sore feet."

Madder opened a flat tin of cigarettes and pushed one past his lips with a sound like somebody gutting a fish. His hand shook.

The phone clicked. I put my end of it aside, struck a match and stared at the wall until the flame burned my fingers.

Madder opened a flat tin of cigarettes and pushed one past his lips with a sound like somebody gutting a fish. His hand shook.

"Did somebody phone you?"

He reached over and pushed the hook down. "Now, listen," he complained. "You're too fast. What you calling copper for?"

He reached over and pushed the hook down. "Now, listen," he complained. "You're too fast. What you calling copper for?"

He put out a couple of nicotined fingers. "Well, well, the old dog catcher himself. The eye that never forgets. Marlowe is the name, I believe?"

"Huh? What wren?" He still didnt look at me.

He reached over and pushed the hook down. "Now, listen," he complained. "You're too fast. What you calling copper for?"

"Not from my side. But if you think I'm going to sit here and let you play with my reflexes, it does."

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