Read The Big Kiss-Off of 1944: A Jack LeVine Mystery for Free Online Page A

turned Hindu and walked around New York wearing a white sheet.
    The apartment smelled stale and close when I walked in. I opened a few windows and talked the cranky old Westing-house fan into doing me a favor and turning around for a while. Then I called a gal named Kitty Seymour, who used to be a crime reporter and now did public relations for the fire department, and who liked me.
    “Kitty, you want to see GI Canteen tonight?”
    “Since when do you go to the theater?”
    “Since producers give me free tickets.”
    “A producer who hired you to tail the leading lady?”
    “Close, but no cigar. A producer who’s being blackmailed.”
    “For what?”
    “Do you know that’s the third question in three sentences? It’s a girl in his show who made some stag films once. He does family shows and doesn’t want it to get around. Doesn’t make much sense if you think too hard about it.”
    “I’d think he’d just fire her.”
    “He doesn’t know who it is.”
    “But he’s willing to pay for the films?”
    “Ten grand worth.”
    Kitty whistled.
    “Very strange case you’ve got there, Jack. Doesn’t sound nice at all.”
    “It doesn’t sound, taste, or smell nice, Kitty. But the guy’s paying me in real money, a lot of it, so I’m pretending it’s on the up-and-up.”
    “I’d get out of it.”
    “And you have an income. Listen, meet me in front of the Booth Theater at a quarter past eight.”
    “No dinner?”
    “Post-theater snack, dear. The best people are doing it.”
    She laughed, a fine, full, honest laugh that made me feel good all over.
    “The best and the cheapest. Eight-fifteen, Booth. Thanks, Jack. I’ll be there, no questions.”
    She gave me a little kiss over the phone and hung up. I went to the kitchen and opened up a Blatz when the phone got lonesome and started ringing. I ambled into the living room and got it on the fourth ring.
    “Yeah?” I said.
    “Mr. LeVine, this is Kerry Lane again. I hate to call you at home, but I felt I had to apologize for my outburst this afternoon. It was childish and I’m deeply sorry for it. I should realize that you are in a difficult position.”
    “Well, right now I’ve got my feet up and there’s a cold bottle of beer in my hand. That’s not such a bad position, for openers. If you’re talking about the case, I have something of a lead that’s taking me out to Smithtown, Long Island, tomorrow. That ring any bells?”
    “None. How did this come about?”
    “I’ve been contacted by Fenton’s playmate.”
    “He didn’t waste very much time.” She wasn’t dumb, this girl, not dumb at all.
    “Not a hell of a lot, no.” I stared past my feet out the window. Some kids were shooting craps on the roof of the apartment building across the street. I wouldn’t have minded playing with them for a while, even if the oldest was fourteen. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t have minded being fourteen.
    “Do you think there are more of them?”
    “Well, if you’ve told me everything I ought to know, it stands to reason that this punk will be the last in the chain. Supposing that he and Fenton were in business together and Fenton crossed him and got croaked for his trouble, the partner figuring nobody would mind very much, the partner takes the firm’s assets and makes it into a one-man business and that’s the whole story.”
    “You’re probably right.” She sounded unconvinced. I waited for her to say something else. She didn’t.
    “Miss Lane, if you have nothing more to say, I’m going to hang up, not because I don’t like chatting with you but because I have a beer to finish and a nap to take. Anything else?”
    “No.” She sounded as distant as someone calling from the Ukraine.
    “Have a stiff drink and put it out of your mind,” I told her. “In a day or two, the whole business will be wrapped up tight.”
    “Perhaps. Good-bye, Mr. LeVine, and thank you.”
    I hung up and discovered that something small and hard, something like