her. If she did know, the cops would get to him first, and Paar wouldn’t have a chance. The thought pained him, but he’d have to take Selma on himself.
Paar sighed, picked up the phone, and dialed a city number. A butler answered at the other end.
“Let me talk to him,” said Paar.
The butler knew Paar’s voice and said, “One moment, sir.”
Then a voice said, “What is it, Paar?”
“Two dicks hauled in a friend of mine, a woman. She’ll be at the Fifth Precinct house for questioning. Get her out…I know it’s two o’clock in the morning, but I want her out…No, just questioning. No warrant…I’ll be over there in half an hour to pick her up, so do what you have to do. She was picked up at my club. The men’s names are Porter and Levy. So long.”
Paar put down the phone, took his jacket and overcoat, and left the club. Twenty minutes later his chauffeur-driven limousine stopped in front of the Fifth Precinct police station. Paar entered the building with an affable smile for everyone; two drunks, one plainclothesman, and the desk sergeant. Paar leaned his elbow on the high desk and offered the policeman a cigarette.
“No, thank you, Mr. Paar. We haven’t seen you in a long time.”
“That’s true, Sergeant Stone.” Paar smiled at him. “Is the young lady ready?”
“I’m very sorry, Mr., Paar, they’re still questioning her.”
Paar’s neck got red and his voice didn’t sound polite. “Didn’t you get a call to release her?”
“Sure, Mr. Paar, but—”
“Well?”
The Sergeant leaned on his desk and lowered his voice. “Don’t try and throw your weight around, Paar. The Feds are in on this. They’re with her now.”
For a moment Paar was stunned. He recovered himself with an effort and asked, “What room?”
“Two-o-five.”
He went to the second floor and walked through the door of 205 without knocking. What he saw made him blanch. Four men were sitting around the figure by the table. It was Selma, head back, mouth open, eyes closed. One arm hung down limp.
“Who are you?” They turned around and looked at him.
“Come here,” said another one.
Paar stepped closer, staring at Selma. One of the four men leaned over from his chair and grabbed Paar.
“Under the light, Bud. Let’s take a look at you.”
Paar’s big forehead glistened and his berry eyes blinked. “Gentlemen, please. What—what have you done?”
“This is Freddie Paar, friends,” said one of the men. He was a detective out of the Fifth Precinct. The others were FBI.
“Freddie Paar is our local glamour boy of the dark, dark underworld. Name any smutty business, Paar is in it. Right, boy?” The man laughed.
With an effort Paar straightened his back. “I came to fetch this young lady and they sent me to this room. However, this shocking scene—”
“This shocking scene!” the detective said, and laughed. Paar turned to him with a face like poison. “I’m not without influence in this town. This outrage—”
“This outrage!” aped the man, and he doubled over with laughter.
“There are laws,” Paar said, his voice getting shrill. “Clubbing women into unconsciousness—”
At that point Selma began to snore. “Unconsciousness!” the man roared.
This made Selma start. She woke with a sick face, licking her dry lips.
“Selma,” Parr said. “What have they done to you?”
“Lovin’ cup.” Her voice was raspy.
The detective stopped laughing and got serious. “Lovin’ cup,” he said to Paar, “your friend here was drunk when she came in. She fell asleep.”
“You mean she hasn’t been questioned yet?”
A quiet voice from the end of the room said, “No.”Herron stepped forward and looked at Paar. “And what is your interest in this matter, may I ask?”
“The young lady is a personal acquaintance, sir. She spent the evening at my club, and when I saw her leave with two detectives, naturally I got concerned and made inquiries.”
“With whom did she spend
Paar sighed, picked up the phone, and dialed a city number. A butler answered at the other end.
“Let me talk to him,” said Paar.
The butler knew Paar’s voice and said, “One moment, sir.”
Then a voice said, “What is it, Paar?”
“Two dicks hauled in a friend of mine, a woman. She’ll be at the Fifth Precinct house for questioning. Get her out…I know it’s two o’clock in the morning, but I want her out…No, just questioning. No warrant…I’ll be over there in half an hour to pick her up, so do what you have to do. She was picked up at my club. The men’s names are Porter and Levy. So long.”
Paar put down the phone, took his jacket and overcoat, and left the club. Twenty minutes later his chauffeur-driven limousine stopped in front of the Fifth Precinct police station. Paar entered the building with an affable smile for everyone; two drunks, one plainclothesman, and the desk sergeant. Paar leaned his elbow on the high desk and offered the policeman a cigarette.
“No, thank you, Mr. Paar. We haven’t seen you in a long time.”
“That’s true, Sergeant Stone.” Paar smiled at him. “Is the young lady ready?”
“I’m very sorry, Mr., Paar, they’re still questioning her.”
Paar’s neck got red and his voice didn’t sound polite. “Didn’t you get a call to release her?”
“Sure, Mr. Paar, but—”
“Well?”
The Sergeant leaned on his desk and lowered his voice. “Don’t try and throw your weight around, Paar. The Feds are in on this. They’re with her now.”
For a moment Paar was stunned. He recovered himself with an effort and asked, “What room?”
“Two-o-five.”
He went to the second floor and walked through the door of 205 without knocking. What he saw made him blanch. Four men were sitting around the figure by the table. It was Selma, head back, mouth open, eyes closed. One arm hung down limp.
“Who are you?” They turned around and looked at him.
“Come here,” said another one.
Paar stepped closer, staring at Selma. One of the four men leaned over from his chair and grabbed Paar.
“Under the light, Bud. Let’s take a look at you.”
Paar’s big forehead glistened and his berry eyes blinked. “Gentlemen, please. What—what have you done?”
“This is Freddie Paar, friends,” said one of the men. He was a detective out of the Fifth Precinct. The others were FBI.
“Freddie Paar is our local glamour boy of the dark, dark underworld. Name any smutty business, Paar is in it. Right, boy?” The man laughed.
With an effort Paar straightened his back. “I came to fetch this young lady and they sent me to this room. However, this shocking scene—”
“This shocking scene!” the detective said, and laughed. Paar turned to him with a face like poison. “I’m not without influence in this town. This outrage—”
“This outrage!” aped the man, and he doubled over with laughter.
“There are laws,” Paar said, his voice getting shrill. “Clubbing women into unconsciousness—”
At that point Selma began to snore. “Unconsciousness!” the man roared.
This made Selma start. She woke with a sick face, licking her dry lips.
“Selma,” Parr said. “What have they done to you?”
“Lovin’ cup.” Her voice was raspy.
The detective stopped laughing and got serious. “Lovin’ cup,” he said to Paar, “your friend here was drunk when she came in. She fell asleep.”
“You mean she hasn’t been questioned yet?”
A quiet voice from the end of the room said, “No.”Herron stepped forward and looked at Paar. “And what is your interest in this matter, may I ask?”
“The young lady is a personal acquaintance, sir. She spent the evening at my club, and when I saw her leave with two detectives, naturally I got concerned and made inquiries.”
“With whom did she spend
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