He Won't Need it Now Read Online Free

I've just fallen out of that loft and my nerves won't stand any more.”
     “Will you tell me what you are doing here?” She was getting her nerve back, and her voice was steady.
     “For the love of Mike don't start gettin' tough,” he pleaded, “take a look at that hoodlum up there before you get that way.”
     She looked frightened again. “Is there anyone else up there?”
     Duffy laughed shortly. “I should say so,” he said, rubbing the back of his head gingerly, “he's just tossed me out, so I should know.”
     She took a step back hastily and looked up into the loft, then she shook her head. “There's no one there.”
     Duffy groaned. “The so-and-so's pinched my camera,” he said wearily. “Do you mind if I get up? There's a draught round here that ain't doing me much good.”
     “I think you had better stay where you are;” she said firmly. She held the gun steady as she reached for the telephone.
     “Don't do that,” Duffy said in alarm, “you ain't calling the cops, are you?”
     “Isn't that what I ought to do?” she asked, her hand hesitating on the receiver.
     “Listen, Mrs. Morgan, I can explain everything. It's all a big mistake,” Duffy said; then he pondered and went on, “I've heard that crack before. My God, I must be losing my grip or somethin'.”
     She lowered the gun in her astonishment. “Why do you call me that?” she asked quickly.
     Duffy stiffened a little. “Ain't you Mrs. Morgan?”
     “No, of course not.”
     He scrambled to his feet and waved his hands at her as she jerked up the gun. “Okay, okay, skip it,” he said impatiently, “this is important. Who are you?”
     She tapped her foot on the floor. “What is this?”
     “I'll tell you what this is,” Duffy said furiously, “I've been taken for a ride. You've got to get this straight. Listen, Toots, I'm Duffy of the Tribune. Some guy who called himself Morgan spun me a yarn that you were his wife and you were being blackmailed. He wanted me to take photos of the crook who was putting the screws on you. I fell for this guff and came up to the hen-roost here and took photos of you and the guy you slipped the money to. Just as I am reaching for my hat and calling it a nice day's work, some thug hops up, pinches my camera, and heaves me out on my neck. You tell me you ain't Mrs. Morgan. In your own interests you'd better tell me who you are.”
     She stared at him and then said finally, “I think you must be mad.”
     “Use your head,” Duffy was getting impatient, “can't you see that you're in a spot? Morgan wanted a photo of you with this other guy and he's got it. Ask yourself why.”
     She still stared at him and shook her head “I don't understand... I don't believe...”
     He slid across to her in one movement and pushed the gun away. “For Krizake,” he said roughly, “will you listen to me? Who was the guy you gave that money to?”
     His urgency touched her and she said quickly, “I don't know. I think his name's Cattley...”
     Duffy stepped back. “Cattley... of course. By heck! I must be losing my grip. Cattley...” He swung round on her. “What the hell are you doing with a rat like Cattley?”
     Her eyebrows came together. “Will you stop asking me questions—?” she began.
     “Listen, baby.” Duffy came close to her. His voice had a sharp edge to it. “Cattley's got a name that stinks in this town. Everyone knows him. Cattley the pimp. Cattley the dope. Cattley the slaver. I tell you he's poison to dames like you. You... you've let yourself be photographed with him... and someone's got those photos Does that mean anything to you?”
     “But....” she stopped and he saw she had gone pale.
     “Yeah! That's made you think. Sit down and tell me quick. Make it snappy; I've got