Read 1984 - Hit Them Where it Hurts for Free Online

me that she had lived tough, and still lived that way. She was wearing a wrap that hung open.
    Apart from a pair of pink panties, she was naked.
    She looked me over, then smiled. Her smile was that hard, welcoming smile a whore knows how to give.
    ‘Sorry, buster,’ she said. ‘In a couple of hours, huh? I’ve got a friend here right now.’
    ‘So what do I do? Wait around for a couple of hours?’ I said, giving her my friendly smile. ‘A pal of mine told me you could take care of me.’
    I was looking beyond her at the big room, comfortably furnished with ageing furniture.
    Across the room was a door that probably led into the bedroom. The door was half-open.
    ‘I sure can,’ she said, ‘but right now. . .’
    A voice suddenly boomed out of the bedroom.
    ‘Tell that fink to piss off! Let’s have some action! You think I’ve got all the goddam day?’
    The girl stiffened.
    ‘Man! He sure is a wild one. See you,’ and she slammed the door in my face.
    I knew for sure that harsh, booming voice had come from the mouth of a negro. There was no mistaking the lilt.
    ‘A wild one’, the girl had said.
    I had a hunch. I rode the elevator down and joined Bill.
    ‘Get the address?’
    ‘Yeah. He’s in the book. 67 Seacomb Road.’
    ‘OK. Listen, Bill, within a short while, a black will appear. I want you to stay with him. I’ll leave you the car in case he’s on wheels. Stay with him. I want to know if he could just be Hank Smedley.’
    ‘And you?’
    ‘I’m going to talk to Solly Lewis.’
    Seeing a passing taxi, I flagged it down.
     
     

CHAPTER 3
     
    I found Solly Lewis on the top floor of a shabby block in a small room that pretended to be an office: a battered desk, a still more battered filing cabinet and a typewriter, standing on a small table that told me he did his own typing.
    He was sitting behind the desk with a thin file before him. He regarded me coolly, then got to his feet. He was of average height, around 35 years of age, with thick black hair and a beard that nearly obscured his face. His clothes had done much service, and he was painfully thin as if he had only one square meal a week.
    ‘What can I do for you?’ he asked, and offered his hand.
    I shook his hand, then taking out my wallet, I gave him my professional card. He waved me to the only other chair. It looked so elderly I was nervous lowering my weight onto it.
    He sat down and studied my card, then looked up at me, his black eyes lighting up.
    ‘Well, Mr. Wallace, I’m glad to meet you,’ he said. ‘Of course, I know all about your agency. What can I do for you?’
    ‘I understand you are acting for the late Miss Angus.’
    I saw him stiffen.
    ‘That is correct. I am her executor.’
    ‘Does the name Terrance Thorsen or Terry Zeigler mean anything to you?’
    He nodded.
    ‘Terry Zeigler. Yes, of course.’
    ‘I am trying to find him. As Miss Angus and he were friendly I hoped she could have told me where he is, but it seems she is unfortunately dead, so it occurred to me that you might remember her mentioning him to you.’
    Lewis pulled at his beard as he regarded me.
    ‘Why do you want to find him?’
    ‘The Acme Agency has been hired to find him. I haven’t been told who the client is. I’ve just been told to find him.’
    ‘Then you and I seem to have the same problem,’ Lewis said, relaxing in his chair. ‘Miss Angus left all her money and effects to Zeigler. I can’t clear up her estate until I have found Zeigler, and up to now, I have not been successful.’
    ‘But I understand Miss Angus lived in rather a depressed state. She cleaned for Zeigler. How come she would have anything to leave him in her will?’
    ‘Her estate is worth a hundred thousand dollars, clear of tax,’ Lewis said, not hiding the wistful note in his voice. ‘Miss Angus was eccentric. She never spent her money. She hoarded it. I finally convinced her she should not keep all this money in envelopes, hidden in her home, and persuaded