I didn’t beat about the bush with this baby. “Yeah,” I said. “Been shootin’ any more colonels?”
I couldn’t help grinning a little. I seemed to be always slipping a nasty one in with this dame.
She said, “You know about that?”
“Sure,” I said. “I was the guy that got you out of the jam. I recognised your voice.”
There was a moment’s silence, then she said, “You are looking for Mardi Jackson. I told you last time that you would be interested before long. You see, I am not wrong. Mardi Jackson knows too much. I don’t think you will see her again. All the same, you might have a look at the Wensdy Wharf to-night at nine o’clock. You might see something there that will interest you further.”
“Why the hell must you be so mysterious….” I began, but the line went dead. If I ever caught up with this dame, I thought savagely, slamming the telephone back on the table, I’d give her something to be mysterious about.
All the same, I was alarmed. She had confirmed my suspicions. Mardi did know something. I didn’t like that crack about not seeing her again. I wandered round the room restlessly. Who was this woman? Why was she so anxious to get me started on this business? Kennedy knew who she was. I guessed that my next step would be to go along and have a straight talk with him. If I put my cards on the table, maybe he would open up.
In the meantime, I decided to check the morgue, just in case Mardi was there, unidentified.
I was mighty glad to get the job over. I didn’t find Mardi. There were a good number of young girls lying on the slabs waiting for someone to claim them, and by the time I got through I was feeling low.
I had a chat with the morgue attendant before going. Casually I asked him if he knew anything about Wensdy Wharf. To my surprise he knew quite a lot about it. His brother used to work close by the place.