I shrugged. “You don’t know everythin’, Mo,” I said shortly. “Anyway, I’m goin’ to have a look at this dame—I might find somethin’.”
Ackie screwed up his face, but he didn’t say anything. I could see he thought I was up the wrong alley, but I told myself that I had to start somewhere. If Sarah Spencer was the woman on the ’phone she’d have to tell me a few things before I was satisfied that she hadn’t had something to do with Mardi’s kidnapping. I gave him a little push. “You’ve got to get goin’,” I said, “an’ make it stick—”
Still Ackie didn’t move. “Just how much am I to tell these G-men?”
“Tell ’em every thin’ Katz told us. That’s enough. Don’t bring Blondie into it, and don’t mention Mardi. Just blow up the Mackenzie Fabric racket—that’s all you gotta do.”
Ackie nodded. “How far do you want to be in this?”
I thought it over. “Yeah, you’re right. Suppose you leave me right out of it. I might want to do a lot of running around, an’ if I’ve gotta sit answerin’ a lotta bull from the cops it might cramp me.”
Ackie began to drift. “You take the car,” he said, “I’ll get a taxi. You’ll take it easy, won’t you, pal? Don’t start anythin’ you can’t finish. That’s a tough gang to play around with.”
I gave him a little shove. “Don’t worry about me,” I said, “I’ll watch out. When you’re through with the cops, go back to the pressroom—I’ll contact you there.”
I climbed into the car and engaged the gear. Ackie stood at the corner of the street and raised his hand as I swept past him. Although I didn’t know it, I wasn’t going to see that guy for several weeks.
Spencer had a swell house on Parkside. It didn’t take me long to get there, and I drew up on the opposite side and killed the engine. The house stood in about a couple of acres of grounds with a lot of trees and shrubs that more or less hid the house from the street.