Tough as Nails: The Complete Cases of Donahue From the Pages of Black Mask by Frederick Nebel Page A

a greasy blue-checked apron.
    “There’s a man named Shane living here, isn’t there?”
    “Shane? Nossuh, Ah don’ know dat name.”
    “Maybe it’s O’Shane, or Shannon, or Hannon—something like that.”
    “Well, dere’s a Mistuh Hannon, but I reckon he ain’t home. He done gone away, Ah reckon, but he’ll be back, ’cause his bag is still dere.”
    “I think he came back today. I’m a friend of his.”
    “Well, suh, then he’s on de top flo’, de back o’ de hall, way back.”
    Donahue said, “Thanks,” and left her and climbed to the top floor.
    He walked softly towards the rear of the musty hall and stopped before a door that barred his way. He put his ear to the door. There were voices beyond the door, and he recognized the tone of Stein’s voice, but not the words. When Stein’s voice stopped he heard Micky Shane’s. Then Stein’s again. Stein talked most. There was an insistent strain in the tone of it.
    This kept up for ten minutes while Donahue crouched outside the door. Then there was silence, then moving feet. Presently a key turned in the lock. Donahue stepped to one side, in the deeper shadows, and his hand went around his hip, came around front again holding his gun.
    The door opened and light rushed into the hall. Stein stepped out putting on his hat. Micky Shane came behind him and turned to insert the key in the outside of the door.
    Donahue said, “Let’s go back in a minute.”
    Stein stiffened. Micky whirled and bumped into Stein. Donahue stepped out of the shadows and looked at both of them. They looked at him. Stein’s face was shadowed down to his mouth by the broad brim of his Panama. Micky Shane had not yet put on his hat. His eyes popped.
    “In,” said Donahue.
    Stein said, “I am leaving, Donahue. I came here to confer with my client.”
    “You are not leaving, Stein,” smiled Donahue.
    “I tell you—”
    “Get in!”
    He straight-armed Stein into the room so fast that Stein almost lost his balance. He jammed his gun into Micky Shane’s stomach and backed him step by step into the room. He reached back with his left hand and quietly closed the door. He leaned indolently against the door, a crooked little droll smile on his lips.
    Stein was a cool bird. Having regained his balance, he drew out a silk handkerchief, patted his lips, coughed gently into the handkerchief, then tucked it carefully back into his pocket.
    Micky Shane was rattled. He kept licking his red soft lips and rubbing his hands against hips. His eyes burned feverishly on Donahue.
    “Donahue,” said Stein in a platform voice, “you know you are more than overstepping your province.”
    “Who the hell ever said I cared whether I did or not?”
    “Donahue, I demand that you get away from that door and permit me to go about my business.”
    “Honest, Stein, I get a great kick out of you.”
    “And I don’t care for your cheap repartee!”
    “Oh, that’s what you call it?” Donahue chuckled with genuine good humor. “Ah, Stein, you’re a trick—you sure are a trick. I’d like to let you go. In fact, I don’t care a damn whether you go or stay… after I get what I came for.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “That’s a worn-out answer, Stein.”
    “Donahue, step aside so that I may—”
    “Lay off!” Donahue darkened suddenly. He took a step from the door and stopped. “You punk kike, you can’t hand me a line like that! I got this kid in jail and I got him out. And I didn’t get him out because I like him or to pass the time away. I got him out to get what he’s got. I want it, Stein! By God, I want it! I’ve pulled some bones in this burg since I came here, but now I’ve got him and you in a jam and I don’t want to hear a lot of hot air!”
    Micky Shane snapped, “You big bum, there ain’t nothing here! Stein bailed me out and come down here to talk to me! Of all the wet-blankets I seen in my time—”
    “Enough out of you, hop-head!” cut in