I grabbed my hat and left my apartment at a run. A taxi took me to the Hoffman Building quickly. I paid him off and checked the time. It would be one o’clock in ten minutes or so. I went into the nearby drug-store and bought myself a drink. The guy behind the counter looked like he might have some brains. After I had finished the Scotch I ordered another.
“I’m lookin’ for a dame,” I said confidentially to this guy, as he put the glass on the counter.
“Ain’t we all?” he said, putting his elbows on handles of the soda jerker and resting himself.
I said, “You’re right. Maybe you can help me.”
He looked interested. “Sure,” he said, “Anythin’ I can do.”
“I’m looking for a dame who works at the Mackenzie Fabrics. I’ve just heard that she’s been fired out an’ I want to know where she’s gone.”
He looked sort of dreamy. “They’ve got some swell dames workin’ in that joint,” he said wistfully. “They’re high steppers. I can’t get to the first base with any of ’em.”
“Do they come in here to eat?” I asked.
“Sure. The rush starts right now.”
I took a five-dollar bill from my vest-pocket and pushed it across to him. “Suppose you let me know when one of them comes in. If I could get her talkin’ maybe I could learn where this dame’s gone to.”