Los Angeles talk show. Three rumnled men on the screen were discussing the possibility of communication after death with the less rumpled host.
The phone rang. Marcus reached over to grab it. "Yeah?"
"Maybe we have something," said Busino. "Is there somebody there with you?" "Two sniritualists and a medium." Marci turned off the sound. "What have you got?"
"Well, one of my sources," said Fimno, "phoned me a few minutes ago with a tip. Now, I don't know, this mav not be worth anything, but see what you think." There was, at a distance, some one howling in the background.
"Who's that screaming?"
"Skippy," answered Busino. "He's teething. You know how it is."
Marcus, a bachelor, replied, "Sure. Now what about this tip?"
"Hold on. Buzzy is awake and wants a glass of water." The phone was set on the table with a clack.
Marcus watched the silent screen and tried to guess what the four tiny men were saying. One of them was flapping his arms.
"See what you think." Busino was bark on the phone. "Now, maybe we can just as well wait until morning. Still I figured I ought to . . ,"
"So tell me already."
"My source says—and this kid's always been pretty reliable—he says that this girl we were talking about is in on the junk-smuggling racket."
"Which girl is this?"
"Diana Palmer."
"You mean Dave Palmer's niece?"
"It does sound unlikely, doesn't it?" said Busino. "But this kid, you know, has always been pretty reliable. He swears Diana Palmer is out here to oversee a big shipment of heroin being brought in from Mexico. Not only that, she's got some of the stuff stashed at her place richt this minute."
Marcus gave a snort. "Some junkie's dream," he said.
"Maybe so," admitted Busino. "Still she has
been real close with Chris Danton since she hit Santa Barbara."
After taking a couple puffs on his cigarette, Marcus said, "There is that, yeah," he said. "Well, I suppose we better look into it."
"Want me to let the local boys in on this?"
"No," said Marcus. "I want to handle this thing quietly. They have a tendency to bust down doors."
"Yeah, they do come on like gangbusters."
"What?"
"I say they kind of come on like gangbusters."
"What't that mean?"
"You know, there used to be a radio show when we were kids," explained Busino. "That was the name of it, Gangbusters, and everybody now
says—
"Pick me up here in fifteen minutes," said Marcus.
CHAPTER TWELVE
There were enormous orange-and-yellow flowers beneath him. He lifted his head slightly, said, "Ouch."
"Take it easy, Kit," said Diana.
Wincing, the Phantom pushed himself up further from the gaudy bedspread. "Everybody okay?"
"Yes, you scared them off apparently," said th girl. "When you didn't come back after a few minutes, we went out looking and found you lying on the sidewalk around the corner."
Gingerly, he touched the back of his head. "I didn't see who hit me at all."
"I think we'd better get a doctor for you. If you didn't wake up soon, I was going to call one anyway."
"No, I'm okay. This is not all that serious."
"Well, maybe the police will insist on your going to the emergency ward."
"Police?" Very slowly, the Phantom rolled over onto his back.
"They're up front in the living room, talking to Uncle Dave," she replied. "Santa Barbara is a relatively conservative town. You can't shoot off rifles in the middle of the night and not attract p lice."
He touched at his face. "Got my glasses?"
The girl reached to a bedside table. "Here."
Putting the dark glasses on, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
She asked, "Did you see who tried to kill us?" "One of them. It was a girl, a small girl in her twenties with red hair."
"Red hair?"
"That means something to you?"
"Yes, one of the so-called guests on Chris Dan- Ion's island was a redhead named Laura Lever- son," answered Diana. "She's the one who called my uncle with that phony message about my staying on."
"Looks like she does more than deliver messages."
"Chris is very determined to kill us," Diana said. "But, Kit, how could he
The phone rang. Marcus reached over to grab it. "Yeah?"
"Maybe we have something," said Busino. "Is there somebody there with you?" "Two sniritualists and a medium." Marci turned off the sound. "What have you got?"
"Well, one of my sources," said Fimno, "phoned me a few minutes ago with a tip. Now, I don't know, this mav not be worth anything, but see what you think." There was, at a distance, some one howling in the background.
"Who's that screaming?"
"Skippy," answered Busino. "He's teething. You know how it is."
Marcus, a bachelor, replied, "Sure. Now what about this tip?"
"Hold on. Buzzy is awake and wants a glass of water." The phone was set on the table with a clack.
Marcus watched the silent screen and tried to guess what the four tiny men were saying. One of them was flapping his arms.
"See what you think." Busino was bark on the phone. "Now, maybe we can just as well wait until morning. Still I figured I ought to . . ,"
"So tell me already."
"My source says—and this kid's always been pretty reliable—he says that this girl we were talking about is in on the junk-smuggling racket."
"Which girl is this?"
"Diana Palmer."
"You mean Dave Palmer's niece?"
"It does sound unlikely, doesn't it?" said Busino. "But this kid, you know, has always been pretty reliable. He swears Diana Palmer is out here to oversee a big shipment of heroin being brought in from Mexico. Not only that, she's got some of the stuff stashed at her place richt this minute."
Marcus gave a snort. "Some junkie's dream," he said.
"Maybe so," admitted Busino. "Still she has
been real close with Chris Danton since she hit Santa Barbara."
After taking a couple puffs on his cigarette, Marcus said, "There is that, yeah," he said. "Well, I suppose we better look into it."
"Want me to let the local boys in on this?"
"No," said Marcus. "I want to handle this thing quietly. They have a tendency to bust down doors."
"Yeah, they do come on like gangbusters."
"What?"
"I say they kind of come on like gangbusters."
"What't that mean?"
"You know, there used to be a radio show when we were kids," explained Busino. "That was the name of it, Gangbusters, and everybody now
says—
"Pick me up here in fifteen minutes," said Marcus.
CHAPTER TWELVE
There were enormous orange-and-yellow flowers beneath him. He lifted his head slightly, said, "Ouch."
"Take it easy, Kit," said Diana.
Wincing, the Phantom pushed himself up further from the gaudy bedspread. "Everybody okay?"
"Yes, you scared them off apparently," said th girl. "When you didn't come back after a few minutes, we went out looking and found you lying on the sidewalk around the corner."
Gingerly, he touched the back of his head. "I didn't see who hit me at all."
"I think we'd better get a doctor for you. If you didn't wake up soon, I was going to call one anyway."
"No, I'm okay. This is not all that serious."
"Well, maybe the police will insist on your going to the emergency ward."
"Police?" Very slowly, the Phantom rolled over onto his back.
"They're up front in the living room, talking to Uncle Dave," she replied. "Santa Barbara is a relatively conservative town. You can't shoot off rifles in the middle of the night and not attract p lice."
He touched at his face. "Got my glasses?"
The girl reached to a bedside table. "Here."
Putting the dark glasses on, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
She asked, "Did you see who tried to kill us?" "One of them. It was a girl, a small girl in her twenties with red hair."
"Red hair?"
"That means something to you?"
"Yes, one of the so-called guests on Chris Dan- Ion's island was a redhead named Laura Lever- son," answered Diana. "She's the one who called my uncle with that phony message about my staying on."
"Looks like she does more than deliver messages."
"Chris is very determined to kill us," Diana said. "But, Kit, how could he
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