Free The Avenger 32 - The Death Machine by Kenneth Robeson Page B

list did you?” asked his uncle.
    “Yeah, he gave us three names. Hershman, Dahler, and Markowitz. We couldn’t do anything about Hershman since he was the poor jerk who got smacked by my train, but—”
    “That’s not a complete list,” said Uncle Algernon.
    “Huh?”
    “I was merely remarking that your list lacked a name.”
    Benson asked, “You mean you know of another intended victim, doctor?”
    “The only surviving one, until you fellows saved Dahler and Markowitz.”
    “Someone else was saved? How did you learn that?”
    “Well, Richard, you may not be aware of the fact that I’m a great listener—don’t make a face, Algy—and while Mr. Early and I shared a hole in the ground he chose to confide a few things in me. He was indiscreet, but I often cause that in people.”
    “Cut the embroidery, Unc. Who’s the guy he saved?”
    “Not a guy at all, but a young lady. Quite attractive as Early painted her. Name of Emmy Lou Dennim. Early himself was the one who prevented her untimely end at the hands of the death machine.”
    “Do you know when,” asked Benson, “she was prevented from committing suicide?”
    “A few hours after Hershman’s unfortunate meeting with the night train.”
    “Most curious,” said Cole, setting down his fork and wiping his lips with his checkered napkin. “One would have thought your dealer in canine cadavers would have had the young damsel’s name on his list if she were intended to depart this life between Hershman and Dahler.”
    “Timing’s wrong, too,” said Nellie. “There’s never been one suicide that close on the heels of another.”
    “They was going to send off Dahler and Markowitz as a team,” reminded Smitty.
    “Circumstances dictated that.”
    Benson pushed back his chair. “Do you know where the girl is now Dr. Heathcote?”
    “Ensconced in a suite at the St. Mark,” replied Uncle Algernon. “I imagine Mr. Early is with her by now, since he evidenced considerable interest in her well-being.”
    The Avenger stood up. “We’d better get over to the St. Mark right now.”
    “You think something’s wrong?” asked Smitty.
    “I think I’d like to talk to Miss Emmy Lou Dennim.”

CHAPTER XVIII

Top of the World
    Don Early’s progress across the lobby of the St. Mark was slow; his walk lacked its usual bounce; he paid no attention to the young agent stationed near the cigar counter.
    Head slightly bent, he rode up in the elevator.
    “Good evening sir,” said Willis, who was posted near the door of Emmy Lou’s suite.
    “What?”
    “I said good evening.”
    “Oh, yeah, sure.” Early didn’t knock, he used his own copy of the key.
    “Who is . . . oh, Don, it’s you. Sort of scared me.” The tall blonde had been standing near the window leafing through a copy of Coronet. “I really must be getting stir-crazy when I start trying to read stuff like this.”
    “Seeing me alive must be a shock to you,” the government agent said.
    Emmy Lou’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, Don? I have been worrying about you, since I haven’t heard from you since breakfast this morning. But why—”
    “The Macri boys are in custody.”
    “The who?”
    “Macri Brothers, of Macri Brothers Winery fame.”
    “I think somebody gave me a bottle of their chablis once. Outside of that, though—”
    “They’re the guys with the daisy design on their trucks.”
    “Oh . . . the design I remembered. Then they must be the ones who tried to kill me,” said the girl. “Why don’t you sit down? Sit down and tell me all about it.”
    “Don’t have the interrogating tricks the Avenger does,” he said, remaining on his feet. “Still, I’m not bad at getting information out of people.”
    “Yes, I’m sure you’re quite good.”
    “One of the brothers, Giacomo by name, decided he wanted to do a lot of talking,” continued Early.
    “That’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
    “Depends on how you look at things. One of the things he told me about was