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with. There was nothing. The big guy must have brought it with him and then taken it away.
    The whole thing had happened so suddenly I was having a little trouble catching up. The only thing I was sure of was that I had to get out of there, and fast. I was still groggy from that judo manhandling Purvis had given me, but this didn’t look like the safest place in the world to lie around and recover. Somebody else might come up. I’d have a sweet time explaining what I was doing here alone in the apartment with a man who was spilling the contents of his head onto a threadbare rug. “I was just sitting in the kitchen having a beer, officer. Sure, I heard this guy kill him, but I didn’t think anything about it; you know how it is, just figured it was some friend of his . . .” Cut it out, I thought. Get the hell out of here.
    I walked softly to the door and had sense enough to take my handkerchief in my hand as I turned the knob. I looked out. The corridor was deserted. Slipping out, I transferred the handkerchief to the outer knob, turned it, and silently closed the door. I put the handkerchief back in my pocket and went down the stairs. The hallway on the second floor was empty. I could hear snatches of a television program and someone laughing. Then I was out in the street, weak and shaking a little as I turned the corner and went on. Nobody had seen me. But what about that taxi driver? I thought uneasily. He’d remember bringing me here. He’d recall he picked me up at the bus station. But, hell, he’d never actually looked at me. He couldn’t describe me, except to say that I was pretty big. It didn’t mean anything.
    I started walking. It was a block before I met anyone, and then it was a colored girl who went on past without looking at me. When she was gone and I was alone again I felt my throat and tried to say something. I made a croaking noise. I cleared it painfully and tried again. “Mrs. Cannon,” I said hoarsely. It sounded like gravel being forced through a pipe. “Rich bitch. Testing. Rich bitch.” My voice cleared up slightly, but I wondered if I wasn’t still a little punchy.
    When I was out of the area, a good ten blocks away, I ducked into a dimly lit bar where a jukebox was wailing and ordered a bottle of beer. Sitting on a stool between a big blonde who was yakking six thousand feet to the mile to her escort and a pint-sized redhead who was crocked to the eyeballs and singing something under her breath, I sipped the beer and tried to sort it, out. If that taxi driver remembered me, or if the police happened to think of looking into Purvis’s long-distance calls, I was in a bad spot. I hadn’t been seen leaving the building, but maybe the other guy had. We were about the same size, and the cops could probably make out with whichever of us they caught first. But assume I never was even connected with it? What next? Where did I go from here? Purvis was dead; I’d never find out anything from him now. Was I going to have to give it up, just because some big ox had knocked his roof in?
    Who was the big joker, anyway? Purvis had obviously gone into the shakedown racket on a full-time basis, so maybe the guy was one of his victims or intended victims—but in that case, why hadn’t Purvis recognized him? Wouldn’t he know him? He obviously hadn’t, because he’d been sucked out of position by that wheeze about investigating complaints of something lousing up television reception in the neighborhood. He hadn’t been expecting trouble, because if he had the guy wouldn’t have been able to hit him with a handful of rice. I knew that from what had happened to me. He could move faster than any human being I’d ever seen in my life. But maybe that big guy was a little fast too. He’d probably had the pipe or loaded club up his sleeve. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to tangle with him in a dark alley. He was about my size, and if he could match speed with Purvis— I stopped.
    I’d had to say it