descriptions are written on the backs. I want to know if either of them shows up down there, what they’re doing, and where they’re hanging out. It may be that Tin-Star is covering them up.”
Porky was looking knowingly from one picture to the other.
“I think I know this guy,” he said out of the corner of his mouth that twitches.
That’s another thing about Porky. You can’t mention a name or give a description that won’t bring that same remark, even though you make them up.
“Here’s some money.” I slid some bills across the table. “If you’re down there more than a couple of nights, I’ll get some more to you. Keep in touch with me, either over this phone or the undercover one at the office. And—remember this—lay off the stuff! If I come down there and find you all snowed up, I promise that I’ll tip Joplin off to you.”
He had finished counting the money by now—there wasn’t a whole lot to count—and he threw it contemptuously back on the table.
“Save that for newspapers,” he sneered. “How am I goin’ to get anywheres if I can’t spend no money in the joint?”
“That’s plenty for a couple of days’ expenses; you’ll probably knock back half of it. If you stay longer than a couple of days, I’ll get more to you. And you get your pay when the job is done, and not before.”
He shook his head and got up.
“I’m tired of pikin’ along with you. You can turn your own jobs. I’m through!”
“If you don’t get down to Halfmoon Bay tonight, you are through,” I assured him, letting him get out of the threat whatever he liked.