1
Crime Gets A Head
by Milton T. Lamb
CHAPTER I
Percival Smith, my boss, was reading a book written by some guy named Freud when the phone rang. He didn't look up from the book. He said, with a nod, "Answer it, Willie."
I was glad to, glad of the chance to do something. Percival Smith has long periods of silence when's he not very good company. I'd been twiddling my thumbs and trying to doze for the last hour.
I got out of my chair, walked to his desk, and picked the phone up. I said, "Yeah?" A torchy voice asked, "The Smith Agency?"
"None other," I said, thinking that the female who owned the voice must be plenty easy on the eyes.
"Is Mr. Smith in?"
The boss kept reading. I nudged him with my elbow and pointed to the phone. He frowned at me, shook his head, and looked back at his book.
I said, "I'm sorry, but he's not here. Can I help you? This is Aberstein. I'm his assistant."
"I'm Alicia Droyster," the voice said. "I..."
I covered the mouthpiece with my hand. "The Droyster dame, boss!"
He sat up at that, closed his book with a pop. He reached out a hand which the little blonde dish at Central Barber Shop manicures twice every week.
The Droyster dame was saying something about a calling card and a Great Dane dog, when I broke in. "Just a minute. The boss has just blew in."
I handed him the phone, stepped back to watch him. He began asking Alicia Droyster a lot of questions. His eyes sort of got warm-looking and I could see his hand get tight on the phone. Well, I been with him long enough to know the signs. I wondere