Free Hostage For A Hood by Lionel White Page B

this same chair. Except of course for that first interval, when the plainclothes cop with the deceptively pleasant manner had tried to make up to him and had taken him into the other room for the coffee and sandwiches. It hadn't gotten the guy anywhere, of course, any more than the tough ones had gotten anywhere with him.
    There'd been that break and the other break when the small, thin cop in the eyeglasses had taken out the blackjack and had lost his temper and banged away at his neck while the other two held him. It had made him sick and he'd puked and so they'd let him up while they washed down the floor with a hose. The cops couldn't stand the smell of a little puke, for God's sake!
    Yeah, he must have been here for a good twenty-four hours now and they'd got exactly nowhere with him, except to make him awfully tired.
    He hadn't even admitted trying to steal the car. He might be dumb, but he was too smart for that. Sure, it would have been nice to have grabbed a plea and taken the small rap, but he knew that if he admitted it, he'd never make bail. If he didn't admit it, just stuck to his story that he was leaning against the car and tying his shoelace, sooner or later they'd have to give up. Sooner or later they'd charge him, but Goldman would be around with the bail bond money. It was just a case of hanging on and admitting nothing. He might be a little punchy, as they said he was, but he wasn't as crazy as they were if they thought they could make him crack.
    He suddenly felt the cool damp rag on his forehead and he quickly snapped open his eyes again and jerked his head erect.
    It was the nice cop again, the smart boy with the felt hat slanted across his brow who'd tried to play it cute and pretend to be his friend.
    "All right, Mitty," the cop said. "You can take it easy now. I didn't know these guys had been keeping you down here all this time. Hell, I thought they'd taken you upstairs hours ago and booked you: They had no right keeping you down here this long. I'll tell you what, I'm going to send out and have a container of coffee and some food brought in and you eat them. While you're doing it, I gotta go upstairs for a few minutes and see the lieutenant. You eat and catch a little shut-eye and then, after a while, why I'll be back and maybe we can talk again, eh?"
    Mitty stared at him and smiled crookedly.
    "Sure, sure," he said. "We can talk. But like I told you, there ain't a thing to talk about. Nothin'."
    * * * *
    Horace Sims, detective first grade, waited patiently until Lieutenant Parks finished with the telephone call. He stood over by the window, not bothering to remove his hat, and looked out, a bored expression on his heavy face.
    Lieutenant Parks didn't look up as he flung the receiver back into its cradle. "I want you to go down and talk to him again," he said, annoyed. "It's just too damned much of a coincidence."
    Sims nodded. "Right away. But can you spare a moment? It's about the Sherwood woman."
    "About who?"
    "The Sherwood woman. Remember—she's missing. You sent me out with her husband last night to look the house over."
    Parks looked up, thoughtful for a moment. He had a lot on his mind. "What about her? Has she turned up yet?"
    "No. But I've run into something a little odd."
    "I thought you were back working on the Rumplemyer job," Parks said, irritated.
    "I am. But I stopped out at the Sherwood house around noon because I happened to be in the neighborhood. He's been calling in all morning bothering us. I just stopped as I was passing—we covered everything I could think of last night. I'd suggested that Sherwood find out if his wife had drawn any money out of her bank. They have a joint account. It was just a routine suggestion. Well, it turns out she not only stopped at the bank after she took him to the train yesterday morning; she drew out just about every dime they had between them. Twenty-six hundred dollars, to be exact. Got a certified check made out to cash."
    Parks drew down the