The Blue Movie Murders Read Online Free PDF Page B

way to Mann Photo Service?”
    â€œYou don’t want to go there, mister. They’ve been on strike for two months. All closed down.”
    â€œI have business at the office. That must be open.”
    The room clerk shrugged uncertainly. “If I was you I wouldn’t cross that picket line.”
    â€œI’ll take my chances,” McCall told him, and the clerk reluctantly gave him directions.
    Mann Photo Service was a sprawling brick building without windows, much larger than he’d expected, with a parking lot that could have held about 200 cars. Many small companies were reluctant to give out employment figures, especially if they were not unionized, and during his days as a private detective, McCall had learned the trick of checking parking lots. A few cars in a large lot often meant recent layoffs, while a crowded lot was a sign of prosperity. The parking lot at Mann Photo was empty.
    McCall parked across the street from the chain-link fence with its padlocked gate. There were only four men on the picket line in front of it, walking back and forth with an air of casual indifference. The signs they carried were standard stuff— Mann Photo Unfair to Organized Labour and Strike for Higher Wages! Strike for a Living Wage!
    At first they seemed to take no notice of McCall as he crossed the street and walked past the line towards a small open gate at one side. But just as he was passing the last of the men he felt a meaty hand on his shoulder.
    â€œWhat in hell do you want here, mister?”
    â€œHands off,” McCall said quietly. “I’m here on business.”
    The striker was tall and wide-shouldered, with muscles bulging from years of work. “What did you say, mister?”
    â€œGo to hell.”
    The man’s beefy right fist came up like a flash. McCall ducked under his arm and caught him in the stomach with a solid right. The air went out of him like a punctured balloon, but he stayed on his feet, ready for more. McCall backed away for a clear swing, but by this time the other three were on him.
    â€œBash his head in!” one of them yelled, and he thought for a moment they were going to do just that. Then he twisted free and managed to land a solid blow to the first man’s chin. The man tumbled backwards and hit the ground hard.
    McCall backed off a few steps and flipped open his shield case. That stopped them. “I don’t want trouble,” he said. “I’m not a scab.”
    â€œThen what do you want?” one of them asked. The other two were bent over their fallen companion.
    â€œJust information. I’m looking for Xavier Mann, or whoever’s in charge here.”
    â€œWell, you sure as hell won’t find them inside, mister. They’re all over at Mann’s house this afternoon, havin’ a meeting.”
    â€œWhere’s that?”
    â€œOther side of town. The big mansion in the flatlands.”
    â€œThanks,” McCall said. Then he had a sudden thought. “I don’t suppose I could hire one of you to show me the way, could I?”
    The man on the ground uttered a short sharp curse. But one of the others said, “Sure, mister. I’ll take you there. For twenty bucks.”
    It was obvious he didn’t expect McCall to accept the offer, which was just why McCall decided to call the man’s bluff. “You’ve got a deal.”
    He eyed McCall doubtfully. “Twenty bucks,” he repeated. “In advance.”
    McCall took out his wallet and showed the money. “Come on.”
    The man exchanged glances with the others and then moved off, a bit reluctantly, with McCall. At the car he accepted the twenty dollars and then slipped silently into the front seat. He was the youngest of the four strikers, dressed in a tan sports coat and wearing long hair and sideburns. He looked to McCall more like a college kid than a striker.
    â€œWhat’s your name, son? Mine’s Mike