a sullen look on her face. "What isthis?" she asked. "A stickup?"
"Don't be vulgar," I replied. "We are here to take charge of my uncle.This weird slaughter must cease!"
Joy was by my side now, but Bag Ears hung back as though somewhatworried about the possible consequences of our act.
I heard him muttering: "What if he can just shoot the stuff in your eyemaybe? What if a guy doesn't have to swallow it--?"
Joy's gayety was again coming to the surface. Her eyes were bright and Iwas struck by the fact that she seemed to thrive on this sort of thing."Hello, Blondy," she said. "Get out from behind--"
The blonde's eyes threw sparks. "Who you think you're talking to, youlard--"
"Not Truman," Joy said. "Now get--"
I seized Joy's wrist. "Angel! He's gone! Uncle Peter isn't here!" Istared at Joy in horror. "Do you suppose he inadvertently chewed some ofhis own gum?"
Joy did not reply. She shouldered me aside, opened the car door andsurprised me by getting a very scientific grip on Cora.
"Okay--where is he? What did you do with him?"
"He's not here!"
"Any fool can see that. Did he blow up?"
"Of course not. He went to keep a date."
The blonde jerked herself loose from Joy's hold and was sullenlystraightening her clothing. "I don't see why you and Pretty Boy have tostick your big noses into this. It's none of your business."
"We're making it our business."
"You don't seem to realize," I said stiffly, "that Uncle Peter is verydear to me. He has performed some horrible deeds, and as his lovingnephew--"
The blonde seemed puzzled. "You're off your crock! Pete's okay. He justentered into a little private deal to help out Hands McCaffery. I don'tsee where it's anybody's business, either. If he wanted your help he'dask for it!"
It made my blood run cold to hear this girl refer so casually to thewholesale slaughter that had been going on around us. I strove to findwords to shame her, but Joy cut in. And apparently my dear wife was moreinterested, at the moment, in the details of the affair rather than themorals involved.
"McCaffery and Uncle Peter haven't got any deal," she said to theblonde. "You lie as easily as you undress. If they had an arrangement toknock off all those parties at our wedding reception, how come McCafferybrought a machine gun along?"
The blonde had an answer. "Hands was a little doubtful. He didn't thinkPete could do it--blow people into thin air just from something they et.He was willing to go along with the gag but he wasn't going to pass upan opportunity to rub out the Zinsky gang--or as many as he couldhit--if the gimmick didn't click. That's why he brought the Tommy--justin case."
Joy turned to me. "It fits," she said. "I've been trying to give UnclePete the benefit of every doubt, but it looks as though you've got a maddog sniffing at the trunk of your family tree."
* * * * *
Cora frowned. "You've got him all wrong. He's not--"
I continued with the questioning. "You are denying that Uncle Peter hadanything to do with this deadly serum that disintegrates people beforeone's eyes?"
"I'm _not_ denying it."
"Then it follows that your moral sense is so badly corroded you nolonger consider murder to be a crime--"
"Now listen here!"
"In law," I went on, "the victim's standing in society is not taken intoconsideration where murder is involved. It is just as wrong in the eyesof the law to murder Cement Mixer Zinsky as the pastor of the FirstCongregational Church."
The blonde looked wonderingly at Joy. "Is this guy for real?"
Joy reestablished her hold upon the blonde's anatomy. "Never mind that.All we want from you is answers. Where did Uncle Peter go? Tell me!"
"Nuts to you!" Cora replied. "He doesn't want you bothering him."
Joy applied pressure. Cora squealed but remained mute. I steppedforward. "Darling," I said grimly. "This sort of thing is not in yourline. I realize this woman must be made to talk so I will take over. Itwill be distasteful to me, but duty is duty."
I got a withering look from my dear wife. "Distasteful? In a pig's eye!You'd like nothing better than to get your hands on her--by way of dutyof course."
"Joy!"
"Don't Joy me." And with an expert twist, she flipped the strugglingCora out of the roadster, goose-stepped her across and into the backseat of the Cadillac.
"You and Bag Ears get in and start driving--slow. I'll have some answersin a minute or two."
We did as we were told and I eased the car away from the curb. I had towatch the road, of course, so could not turn to witness what was goingon rearward. In the mirror I saw flashes of up-ended legs and, from timeto time, other and sundry anatomical parts that flew up in range only tovanish again as the grim struggle went on.
Bag Ears, however, turned to witness the bringing forth of the answers.His first comment was, "Oh boy!"
Joy was breathing heavily. She said, "Okay, babe. Talk, or I'll put realpressure on this scissors!"
Bag Ears said, "Man oh man!"
Joy said, "Quit gaping, you moron! I'm back here too."
I gave Bag Ears a stern admonition to keep his eyes front.
"Give," Joy gritted.
"Ouch! No!"
"Give!"
Cora gave forth an agonized wail. Then an indignant gasp. "Cut it out!You fight dirty! That ain't fair!"
"Give!"
"All right! All right. Pete's meeting Handsat--ouch--Joe's--ouch--Tavern on Clark Street. Ouch! Cut it out, willyou?"
And it was here that I detected a trace of sadism in my lovely wife."All right," she said regretfully. "Sit up. Gee, but you talk easy."
"Just where is this tavern?" I asked. "And what is the purpose of themeeting?"
Cora's resistance was entirely gone. "In the 2800 block. Pete went thereto get some money from Hands to skip town with."
Joy now spoke with relish. "Lying again. I'll have to--"
"I ain't lying!"
"Don't give us that! Uncle Peter is wealthy. He doesn't need Hands'money. Come here, baby."
"Wait, Joy," I cut in hastily. "The young lady may be telling the truth.Uncle Peter is always short of funds. You see, Aunt Gretchen holds thepurse strings in our family and Uncle Peter is always overdrawn on hisallowance."
"Then let's get to that tavern and find out what's going on."
It took ten minutes to reach the tavern; a standard gin mill with a redneon sign proclaiming its presence. We quitted the car and I enteredfirst, Joy bringing Cora along with a certain amount of force, and BagEars bringing up the rear.
And I was just in time to prevent another murder.
As I came through the door, I saw Hands and Uncle Peter leaning casuallyagainst the bar. There was no one else in the place. The barkeep wasfacing his two customers and there were three glasses set before them.The barkeep held one in his hand.
Uncle Peter had just finished spiking the barkeep's drink with a clearfluid from a small vial. Uncle Peter said, "It's something new Iinvented. Pure dynamite. You haven't lived until you've tasted myelixir."
* * * * *
Hands said, "Go ahead. Drink it. I want to make sure I wasn't seeingthings back at that dame's house."
The barkeep said, "Pure dynamite, huh?"
"Your not fooling, chum."
He raised the glass and grinned. "Salud."
I got to the bar just in time to knock the glass out of his hairy paw.He grunted, "What the hell--oh, a wise guy, huh?" and started over thebar.
I yelled, "It's murder. They're trying to poison you!"
"Oh, a crackpot!"
He came toward me, shaking off Uncle Peter's restraining hand. I took astep backward, thankful he was coming in wide open because I had seenfew tougher-looking characters in my lifetime.
I set myself and sent a short knockout punch against his chin. It was agood punch. Everything was in it. It sounded like a sledge hammerhitting a barn door.
&nb
sp; The barkeep shook his head and came on in. I stepped back and sluggedhim again. No result.
Then Joy slipped into the narrow space between us. She was smiling and,with her upturned waiting lips, she was temptation personified. Thebarkeep dropped his hands, paralyzed by her intoxicating nearness.
She said, "Hello, Iron Head. How about you and I taking a