Free Time Off for Murder by Zelda Popkin

sister."
    Â Â "O.K., O.K." He threw the car into gear with an unnecessary amount of noise. "Where do you want to go now?"
    Â Â "Back to headquarters with you to talk to Troy."
    Â Â "And have the boys riding me for going to work with a dame? Oh no, you don't."
    Â Â "Not if they knew it was me."
    Â Â "Listen, sister, I'm taking you to your home and no place else. I'll call you up if I got something to spill. You call me up. That's how it stands. And you stay away from Rorke's apartment. Get me?"
    Â Â "Can't I even call him up?
    Â Â "Nope. You gals can't keep your heads with a fellow like that. Maybe you're different. But I doubt it. I doubt it." He swung the car out into the traffic stream. "First I call up Troy," he muttered, half to himself, half to Mary. "Then first thing in the morning, I see that Struthers. And I talk to the Chief about tossing the Knight place."
    Â Â "When do you sleep, Johnny?"
    Â Â "Never, lady. I never sleep. Not with the college boys taking the police exams. No, sir. Where do you live and what's your phone number?"
    Â Â During the middle of the Sunday night Winchell broadcast, Mary Carner's telephone rang.
    Â Â "Hello."
    Â Â "Hello, Detective Reese speaking."
    Â Â "Hello, Johnny."
    Â Â "Say, Van Arsdale's in town."
    Â Â "I know it."
    Â Â "You do, do you? How do you know it?"
    Â Â "I just heard it on the Winchell broadcast."
    Â Â "Say, that guy knows everything, don't he? What did be say?"
    Â Â "Oh, just that Wilfred Van Arsdale, the big collar man from Troy, had come to New York to help the police search for his missing fiancee."
    Â Â "That's right. That's exactly what he did. And say, he's a nice guy. Fat, middleaged, eye glasses. Maybe some girls wouldn't think he's so hot. But he's an awful nice guy. Regular Boy Scout. He hopped a train the minute he read the news in the papers. What we heard is the McCoy. He had lunch with her Wednesday, all right. She told him she had somebody else on her mind and would he please stay in Troy and forget about her. She didn't tell him the other guy's name. Just said she was nuts about whoever it was. He wished her luck. What could he do?" Detective Reese's sympathetic sigh floated over the wire. "He said she looked bad. Pale and worried. And when he mentioned it, she said yes, the flu'd gotten her down and she was working hard besides. He said he walked back to the office with her and that was all. He says it's too bad her and the old man had a fight about him because he don't want to antagonize nobody. He says he never thought he stood very good with the old man. He says he always thought it was on account of the old man Phyllis had held off marrying him long before she met the other guy. He says the old man always had kittens whenever Phyllis mentioned getting married."
    Â Â "That's interesting. Both men complained the old man stood in the way of Phyllis getting married. But papa acted as though it was all right with him. Either one. Somebody's maligning papa."
    Â Â "Maybe Phyllis had her old man doped wrong."
    Â Â "Maybe. Van Arsdale know anything about her going to the movies?"
    Â Â "Never heard of it."
    Â Â "Did she ever mention suicide to him?"
    Â Â "Nope. He said maybe yes, maybe no, to that one. He thought she was too sensible for that. But you can't tell. She didn't look too good when he saw her. Nervous."
    Â Â "Did he have any ideas where Phyllis might've gone? Any relatives, any places to which she might have gone for a rest - to think things over?"
    Â Â "He thinks she'll turn up. He thinks she'll be back."
    Â Â "Hope he's right. Has he gone back yet? I'd like to meet him."
    Â Â "What do you need him for? You got me, ain't you? Ain't you never satisfied?"

Chapter V

    The disappearance of the blonde Portia crowded the prosecution of racketeer Rockey Nardello off Monday morning's front pages. The revelation of her unannounced betrothal