Free Yellowthread Street by William Marshall

of removing her bra from her breasts and he waited until, released, they bobbed up and down like two ripe melons to the bumping of the music from a scratched record on a player on the bar. Then he took out a little leather covered notebook and made an entry in it with his Parker pen.
    Entertainment tax not paid
, he wrote in the notebook. He wrote the date and put the word
Entertainment
after it. He counted the audience of happy drinkers and wrote
Audience: 37.
    He glanced at the stripper. She had blotches on her stomach and acne on her face.
    Mr Vinehouse was a regulation man. If the tax regulations considered it entertainment, it was entertainment, and if Mr Vinehouse himself did not consider it entertainment and the regulations did Mr Vinehouse admitted his error. It was entertainment.
    He underlined the word in his little leather covered notebook—
Entertainment
—and put the Parker pen back carefully into his shirt pocket.
    ‘Four fingers and one ear,’ Feiffer said. He put the reports down on his desk and lit a cigarette, ‘Our Mongolian friend runs a busy trade. Have we got any leads on him?’
    O’Yee shook his head.
    ‘Nothing known? No previous?’
    O’Yee shook his head.
    ‘An independent?’
    O’Yee nodded.
    Spencer glared at O’Yee. It was Spencer’s case, Spencerthought. He said, ‘Alice said he was new.’
    ‘Christopher—’ Feiffer began. O’Yee yawned and grasped his heart. He said in great pain and discomfort, ‘Oh—!’
    ‘The old trouble again?’ Feiffer enquired pleasantly.
    ‘The old trouble,’ O’Yee said. He nodded bravely, ‘I’ve done my bit for the night.’
    ‘He’s pretending,’ Spencer said. He looked at O’Yee with contempt. ‘He’s just pretending so he can get out of doing anything about it. It’s my case anyway.’
    ‘Right!’ O’Yee said readily. He nodded encouragingly to Feiffer, ‘It’s his case. He got it all out of Alice.’
    ‘I did,’ Spencer said. ‘It was a very valuable interview.’
    ‘Keen as mustard,’ O’Yee said. He broke into what he thought was his
Destry Rides Again
voice, ‘Give the kid a break, Sheriff.’
    ‘Auden?’
    ‘I’ve got an accident report to type up, Boss,’ Auden said. He held the particular piece of paper above his head and screwed it quickly into his typewriter, ‘See?’
    ‘I’ve done my bit for the night too,’ Feiffer said, ‘I’m not going to stand out in Camphorwood Lane for the rest of the night dying for a pee in case some mad bastard with a kukri turns up.’
    ‘Quite right,’ O’Yee said. ‘You have to think of your wife and children.’
    ‘He hasn’t got any children,’ Spencer said irritably. He couldn’t understand it. It was typical: because Alice had a bad reputation everyone was against her. He said, ‘If you’re all so afraid why don’t you send little Minnie Oh to do your work for you?’
    ‘Good idea,’ O’Yee said. ‘That’s a very good idea.’
    ‘You stink!’ Spencer said, ‘Poor Alice Ping.’
    ‘Poor One-Eared Alice Ping,’ O’Yee said, ‘Poor Hot Time One-Eared Frank and Valuable Alice.’ He said, ‘I’ve done my bit for law and order.’
    Feiffer decided.
    ‘We’ll leave it till the morning,’ Feiffer said. ‘The day shift can handle it. He won’t do anything else tonight. I think I’m right.’
    He wasn’t. He was wrong. At that exact moment, the Mongolian was having a short but communicative discussion with Mr Edgar Tan of
Edgar Tan and Company, Jewellers,
two doors away from
Alice’s Goldsmith’s and Jewellery.
    It was an extremely brief discussion.
    The Mongolian said, ‘Money,’ and Mr Edgar Tan broke into laughter.
    The Mongolian said, ‘Money,’ and drew his kukri and Mr Edgar Tan said, ‘Ha-ha!’
    The Mongolian said, ‘Fingers,’ and Mr Tan danced away and said, ‘You in big trouble.’
    ‘Money!’ the Mongolian repeated. Mr Tan repeated, ‘Ha!’ The Mongolian ordered, ‘Hand!’
    ‘You in big trouble,’ Mr Tan said,