It was only half an hour short of midnight when I stopped the Curtis at the curb across the street from the main entrance to the Polo Grounds. The mob had dwindled to a few small knots, and of the long line of police cars only three were left. Two cops were having a těte-à-těte in front of the entrance, and another one was leaning against a wall.
Lila was a quick mover. She had got out and circled the car to my side by the time I hit the pavement and shut the door. I gave her the ignition key, and we were crossing the street when suddenly she let out a squawk and gripped my arm, and then let go and started to run. I took another step and stopped. Bill Moyse was there, emerging from the entrance, with a dick on either side of him and one behind. Lila ended her run in a flying leap and was on him. The startled dicks were on her, or anyway at her. They were vocalizing, and so were Bill and Lila. The two uniformed cops started toward them.
I would have liked to deliver Lila to Wolfe, or at least to Hennessy, but there was a fat chance of tearing her loose from her second-string catcher. Also I did not care to get hung up explaining to a bunch of underlings how I happened to be chauffeuring for Mrs. Moyse, so I detoured around the cluster, made it inside the entrance, and headed for the stairs to the clubhouse. Hearing heavy footsteps above, starting down, and voices, one of them Hennessy’s, I slipped quietly to the rear and got behind a pillar. Surely Stebbins had informed the uptown contingent of my phone call about the situation at Gale’s Pharmacy, and if so, surely Hennessy would be inquisitive enough to want to take me along wherever he was going. I didn’t risk peeking around the pillar, but, judging from the footsteps, there were four or five of them. As soon as they had faded out I returned to the stairs and mounted. I was not chipper. I did not have Lila. I had been gone more than two hours. Wolfe might have gone home. They might all be gone.
But they weren’t. Wolfe was in the clubroom, still — or possibly again — on the leather couch, and Chisholm was standing there. As I entered, their heads turned to me.
As I crossed to them Wolfe spoke. “The police are looking for you,” he said coldly.
“Uh-huh.” I was indifferent. “I just dodged a squad.”
“What did you go to that drugstore for?”
I raised the brows. “Oh, you’ve heard about it?”
“Yes. Mr. Hennessy did, and he was kind enough to tell me.” He was dripping sarcasm. “It is a novel experience, learning of your movements through the courtesy of a policeman.”
“I was too busy to phone.” I glanced at Chisholm. “Maybe I should report privately.”