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nydus/Continental Op StoriesPublic

A collection of short stories about an unnamed agent of a detective agency in the early 1920s.

Page 1043 of 1257
Table of Contents

The Main Death

“She should be back in a few minutes. You’re going to question her?”

“But not here,” I informed her. “I’ll take her down to the Hall of Justice and have the men picked up. Can I use your phone?”

“Certainly. It’s in the next room.” She crossed to open the door for me.

I called Davenport 20 and asked for the detective bureau.

Mrs. Gungen, standing in the sitting room, said, so softly I could barely hear it:

“Wait.”

Holding the phone, I turned to look through the door at her. She was pinching her red mouth between thumb and finger, frowning. I didn’t put down the phone until she took the hand from her mouth and held it out toward me. Then I went back into the sitting-room.

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