Free Time Off for Murder by Zelda Popkin Page B
Authors: Zelda Popkin
her hex and find the girl for us. We got the whole country seeing blondes. All of them wants to know is there a reward and who do they write to about it."
  "Is there a reward?"
  "Who'd give it?"
  "Papa or Rorke or the collar man. They've all got money."
  "Well, they ain't offered it yet. Looks like the lady ain't worth any cash to any of 'em. We had five sets of bloodhounds offered this morning, and a Boy Scout troop on Long Island called up to ask do we want them for a posse."
  Mary laughed. "I can't help it, Johnny. It's too silly. But one of them may find her for us at that."
  "That's the idea. No matter how screwy, we gotta follow through. Most of them guys just wants their names in the papers and a free ride to New York. I'm letting Headquarters worry about it. I got enough to do. Guess where I am now?"
  "Can't imagine."
  "At the office."
  "What office?"
  "The Knight woman's. And say, you had Struthers all wrong. He's a good guy. Me and him are getting along fine."
  "Wait for me there. I'll be right down."
  She hung up the receiver, slipped into her topcoat. "I'll only be gone an hour, Chris. An hour or so . . .Oh please, Chris, don't be that way."
  "I want you to stay out of this, Mary. You've enough to do here at the store. And who's this Johnny guy?"
  "So that's what's worrying you? He's Detective Reese. Missing Persons. I met him yesterday."
  "And he's Johnny to you today?"
  "He was Johnny yesterday, too. He's that kind. Oh silly, he's only a kid, an awfully nice kid, who needs a lot of help."
  But Johnny Reese at Miss Knight's office, seemed to be doing very well, thank you, without too much help. He occupied Miss Knight's chair, comfortably tilted back, his feet on an open desk drawer, papers and documents spread fan-wise before him, the ecru Struthers opposite, obsequious as a puppy.
  The office had a bleak, deserted look. The receptionist was missing from her desk outside. The cubby-hole where Miss Knight's clerk had toiled was empty.
  Struthers greeted Mary with a glance that was half welcome, half plea for commiseration. It was plain that he was having an uncomfortable time with Detective Reese.
  The young detective pushed a leather bound diary toward Miss Carner. It was open at the page for the nineteenth of October.
  Mary's eyes ran swiftly down the record of a busy day: 9-9:30: Br. Hartsell v. American Widget; 9:30-9:45: mail; 10: First Municipal, Arens v. Maxine Realty; 12:30: lunch W.V.A.; 2: Sophie D; 2:30: N. Peterson; 2:45: Lake and Tauber; 3: Title closing. Greenstreet; 4: Ray Winock; 4:30: Dictate Bill particulars, Rosensweig; Pet. Bank. O'Neil, Wasey; Appeal: People v. Nexo.
  "Phwee," Mary gasped. "One half the world has no idea the other half lives by litigation."
  "Miss Knight had a large practice," Struthers said primly. "Miss Getch - that's the clerk - I let her go, the receptionist, too, till Miss Knight comes back - and I helped her all we could. We got the citations looked up, all the materials ready for her."
  "Are you a lawyer, too?" Mary asked.
  Struthers' complexion seemed a shade paler. He said: "I am not a practicing attorney. I have studied law," and went on quickly to add: "That of course is not all. The mail, the telephone, they took a great deal of time, too."
  "Have you a record of the phone calls Miss Knight received on Wednesday?"
  "I have." Struthers plodded to his little office. His back looked tired. He placed a long sheet on top of the papers on the desk.
  "Who's this guy Peterson?" Detective Reese demanded. "He called four times in the afternoon."
  Struthers sighed: "He's a very difficult person."
  Mary consulted the diary. "He saw Miss Knight at half past two. Any idea what about?"
  Struthers shook his head. "The door was
  "Is there a reward?"
  "Who'd give it?"
  "Papa or Rorke or the collar man. They've all got money."
  "Well, they ain't offered it yet. Looks like the lady ain't worth any cash to any of 'em. We had five sets of bloodhounds offered this morning, and a Boy Scout troop on Long Island called up to ask do we want them for a posse."
  Mary laughed. "I can't help it, Johnny. It's too silly. But one of them may find her for us at that."
  "That's the idea. No matter how screwy, we gotta follow through. Most of them guys just wants their names in the papers and a free ride to New York. I'm letting Headquarters worry about it. I got enough to do. Guess where I am now?"
  "Can't imagine."
  "At the office."
  "What office?"
  "The Knight woman's. And say, you had Struthers all wrong. He's a good guy. Me and him are getting along fine."
  "Wait for me there. I'll be right down."
  She hung up the receiver, slipped into her topcoat. "I'll only be gone an hour, Chris. An hour or so . . .Oh please, Chris, don't be that way."
  "I want you to stay out of this, Mary. You've enough to do here at the store. And who's this Johnny guy?"
  "So that's what's worrying you? He's Detective Reese. Missing Persons. I met him yesterday."
  "And he's Johnny to you today?"
  "He was Johnny yesterday, too. He's that kind. Oh silly, he's only a kid, an awfully nice kid, who needs a lot of help."
  But Johnny Reese at Miss Knight's office, seemed to be doing very well, thank you, without too much help. He occupied Miss Knight's chair, comfortably tilted back, his feet on an open desk drawer, papers and documents spread fan-wise before him, the ecru Struthers opposite, obsequious as a puppy.
  The office had a bleak, deserted look. The receptionist was missing from her desk outside. The cubby-hole where Miss Knight's clerk had toiled was empty.
  Struthers greeted Mary with a glance that was half welcome, half plea for commiseration. It was plain that he was having an uncomfortable time with Detective Reese.
  The young detective pushed a leather bound diary toward Miss Carner. It was open at the page for the nineteenth of October.
  Mary's eyes ran swiftly down the record of a busy day: 9-9:30: Br. Hartsell v. American Widget; 9:30-9:45: mail; 10: First Municipal, Arens v. Maxine Realty; 12:30: lunch W.V.A.; 2: Sophie D; 2:30: N. Peterson; 2:45: Lake and Tauber; 3: Title closing. Greenstreet; 4: Ray Winock; 4:30: Dictate Bill particulars, Rosensweig; Pet. Bank. O'Neil, Wasey; Appeal: People v. Nexo.
  "Phwee," Mary gasped. "One half the world has no idea the other half lives by litigation."
  "Miss Knight had a large practice," Struthers said primly. "Miss Getch - that's the clerk - I let her go, the receptionist, too, till Miss Knight comes back - and I helped her all we could. We got the citations looked up, all the materials ready for her."
  "Are you a lawyer, too?" Mary asked.
  Struthers' complexion seemed a shade paler. He said: "I am not a practicing attorney. I have studied law," and went on quickly to add: "That of course is not all. The mail, the telephone, they took a great deal of time, too."
  "Have you a record of the phone calls Miss Knight received on Wednesday?"
  "I have." Struthers plodded to his little office. His back looked tired. He placed a long sheet on top of the papers on the desk.
  "Who's this guy Peterson?" Detective Reese demanded. "He called four times in the afternoon."
  Struthers sighed: "He's a very difficult person."
  Mary consulted the diary. "He saw Miss Knight at half past two. Any idea what about?"
  Struthers shook his head. "The door was
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