Sam McCain - 02 - Wake Up Little Susie by Ed Gorman Page A

silence.
    Then: “And have you found the murderer yet?”
    The only reason I put up with this was because of the shock I was about to give her. It would be like dropping a bomb on her desk when I told her what David Squires had proposed.
    “No.”
    “And what did you do all day yesterday?”
    “Stayed home.”
    “And did what?”
    “Thought about the case.”
    “All day you thought about the case?”
    “Well, except for when I was reading the funnies.”
    “And what else?”
    “Watching Maverick.”
    “And what else?”
    “Reading that paperback.”
    “Are you ashamed of yourself?”
    “Sort of.”
    She whirled around and glared at me. “Sort of?” Her cigarette in her right hand, her cut-glass brandy snifter in the other. “Sort of?”
    As I’ve said many times before, she’s a good-looking woman, the Judge. Handsome.
    Imposing. She had on a fashionably styled fawn wool suit and white blouse this morning.
    Her short hair framed her face perfectly.
    She was the kind of woman you saw in high-toned magazines, pushing a poodle down Park Avenue.
    “Well, I did actually do some work.” I told her what I’d done.
    “And I’m supposed to be impressed?”
    “It’s better than nothing.”
    “Oh, there’s a slashing self-justification.
    Better than nothing. Inspiring, McCain.
    Downright inspiring.”
    I wanted to slide this one right across the plate.
    Startle her with it. Make her wonder if she’d heard me right. I wanted to rattle her like she’d never been rattled before.
    I said, fast, “David Squires wants
    to hire me.”
    She said, “I know. He called me
    last night.”
    She slid it right back. Startled me with it.
    Made me wonder if I’d heard her right.
    “What?”
    “He said he decided it’d probably be better to speak to me directly.”
    “Great. Just great.”
    “You were hoping to surprise me with it, weren’t you?”
    “I guess.”
    “And here I was the one who surprised you.
    That’s funny.”
    “Real funny.”
    “I told him you’d do it, McCain.”
    “What?”
    “He and Cliffie are up to something, and I want to find out what.”
    “You think Cliffie’s involved in this?”
    “Of course. Don’t you?”
    That’s when she got me with the first rubber band. She keeps a stash of them in her drawer. She makes a pistol of her hand, thumb and finger, and then lets me have it. She’s good. Annoyingly good. The rubber band hit my nose and fell into my lap.
    “Nice to know I haven’t lost my touch.”
    “Yeah. I’m thrilled.”
    “Try and be a little faster next time. It’s no fun if I always win.”
    She exhaled a great deal of French blue smoke. “Find out what they’re up to, McCain, and fast.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    This time, even though I ducked, her rubber band got me on the forehead.
    A sip of brandy. A glance at the
    two-hundred-year-old Swiss clock. “I need to get ready for court, McCain. And you need to get ready to do what you should’ve done yesterday.” She shook her head. “And I certainly wouldn’t go around admitting that you still read the funny papers. My Lord, McCain.
    Presumably, you’d like to be a grown-up someday.”
    I made it all the way to the door. Then she did some showing off. Just as I started to open her door, one of her rubber bands landed on my shoulder.
    “It’s a good thing you’re short, McCain. I don’t think I could’ve pulled that off if you were normal-sized.”
    All the time I was reading Nancy and Slu)o yesterday morning, I should have figured that Judge Whitney would pay me back for it, comments about my size being her specialty.
    The beautiful Pamela was on the phone when I went out. She didn’t get to ask me to pray for her and Stu again.
     
Seven
     
    Try to keep the covers folded back so you can’t see the illustration of Captain Video, the boldest man in outer space and the most popular science-fiction show on Tv. Friend of mine at Woolworth’s was closing out merchandise that didn’t sell. Among those