Phillips said, “Hyah, Joe, meet a couple of buddies.”
Joe laid down his newspaper. “What the hell’s this?”
“We’re spendin’ the night here,” Phillips said. “Just look on us as three stiffs.”
Joe climbed to his feet. His big fleshy face showed just how mad he was. “You’re all drunk,” he said. “You better scram outta here. I ain’t got time to horse around with you boys now.”
The driver began to edge towards the door, but Phillips stopped him. “Listen, Joe,” he said; “who was the swell dame I saw you with last night?”
Joe’s eyes popped. “You didn’t see me with no dame last night,” he said uneasily.
Phillips smiled. “Don’t talk bull. She was a dame with a chest that oughta have a muzzle on it, an’ a pair of stems that cause street accidents. Gee! What a jane!” He turned to the other two. “You ain’t seen nothin’ like it. When I thought of that guy’s poor wife, sittin’ around at home doin’ nothin’, while this runt goes places with a hot number like that, I tell you, it got me.”
Joe undid the counter-bolt and pulled back the little door. “Okay,” he said wearily, “go on down. It’s a goddam lie, an’ you know it, but I ain’t takin’ chances. The old woman would just like to believe that yarn.”
Phillips grinned. “Down we go, boys,” he said.
They followed him down a long flight of marble steps. At the bottom there came to them a faint musty odour of decomposition. As Phillips pushed open a heavy steel door the pungent smell of formaldehyde was very strong. They all entered a large room.