Gamblers Don't Win Read Online Free PDF Page B

She happened to be with me when we found the body. It was a lousy break, but I could stand the publicity, and she couldn’t.”
    â€œAn actress, huh?” Pike almost licked his lips, and Lennox stared at him with disgust. He’d been feeling like a heel, not coming clean, but now he didn’t. Jarney’s death meant publicity to Pike, nothing more. He rose and stared down at the man at the desk.
    â€œAm I free to go?”
    The District Attorney managed a smile. “Sure, Bill, but listen. If you learn anything—”
    Lennox went out. In the hall he stopped for a moment. He knew that he wasn’t clear yet, that the cops and the D.A. investigators would tail him if they could. He knew that Pike hadn’t released him because he wanted to. He was free because Pike was politically ambitious, and behind Lennox was the squat, rounded figure of Sol Spurck, head of the State Central Committee.
    Bill’s mouth twisted grimly as he rode down to street level and stepped out onto the sunlit street He wondered what the telephone call that morning had meant. Had Custis killed Jarney? Or, rather, had the gambler had the rider killed? Custis wasn’t the type to take chances in cold blood if he could find someone else to do it for him.
    For seconds Lennox stood there, thinking it over. His impulse was to face Custis, to have a showdown; then he shrugged. He couldn’t do that yet.
    He had to know where Betty Donovan fitted into the picture. He didn’t want the girl hurt. She seemed a swell kid, and she was Bert’s sister.
    His next impulse was to talk to her, but that was what Pike would expect him to do. Instead, he flagged a cab and told the man to take him out to the studio.
    The noon papers carried banners. Police Hunt Mystery Girl. Studio Executive Questioned in Jockey’s Death. Lennox read them as he lunched at the Vine Street Brown Derby. As he was leaving the restaurant, two reporters stopped him on the sidewalk. He refused to comment, and took a cab back to the studio. Spurck’s secretary said that the producer wanted to see him. Lennox grinned sourly and went into the thickly carpeted room to find Spurck behind the enormous desk.
    â€œWhat’s on your mind, Sol?”
    Spurck spread his hands. “He asks me what’s on my mind? Honest, Bill, a minute’s peace I ain’t had this morning, y’understand. First it is the D.A.’s office, then the papers, then the D.A.’s office. Can’t they have one good murder in this town without your mixing in?”
    Lennox didn’t laugh. “Take it easy, Sol.”
    â€œHe wants I should take it easy?” Spurck appealed to the ceiling. “Honest, Bill. How much publicity like this can the studio stand?”
    â€œNow, listen. I don’t see where the studio comes into it.”
    Spurck seemed suddenly short of breath. “You don’t see? Look once, what the Star has, the schlemiels.” He pulled forth a folded paper and tossed it on to the desk.
    Boxed on the center of page one was a list of General’s female stars with an enormous question mark and a caption, Is One of These the Mystery Woman?
    Lennox stared at it, his eyes narrowing. The Star was more or less of a scandal sheet, willing to go to almost any length for a sensation. He said, slowly, “I don’t know what we can do about it.”
    Spurck’s chubby finger indicated the list. “Is it one of them?”
    Lennox shook his head. “She isn’t in pictures, Sol.”
    â€œThen tell who she is. Honest, Bill, I’m telling you, we can’t afford nothing like this now. You gotta tell.”
    Bill’s mouth set. “Listen, Sol. I’ll have to play this the way I see it.”
    For a moment it seemed that Spurck would have a stroke. “Is that your loyalty?” he demanded, finally. “After all I have done for you—I find I am nursing a—a coyote to my