Mars flicked the Luger out again and pointed it at my chest. "Open the door."
The knob rattled and a voice called out.
I didn't move. The muzzle of the Luger looked like the mouth of the Second Street tunnel, but I didn't move. Not being bullet proof is an idea I had had to get used to.
"Open it yourself, Eddie.
Who the hell are you to give me orders?
Be nice and I might help you out."
He came to his feet rigidly and moved around the end of the desk and over to the door. He opened it without taking his eyes off me.
Two men tumbled into the room, reaching busily under their arms.
One was an obvious pug, a good-looking pale-faced boy with a bad nose and one ear like a club steak.
The other man was slim, blond, deadpan, with close-set eyes and no color in them.
Eddie Mars said: "See if this bird is wearing any iron."
The blond flicked a short-barreled gun out and stood pointing it at me.
The pug sidled over flatfooted and felt my pockets with care.
I turned around for like a bored beauty modeling an evening gown.
"No gun," he said in a burry voice.
"Find out who he is."
The pug slipped a hand into my breast pocket and drew out my wallet.
He flipped it open and studied the contents.
"Name's Philip Marlowe, Eddie.
Lives at the Hobart Arms on Franklin.
Private license, deputy's badge and all. A shamus."
He slipped the wallet back in my pocket, slapped my face lightly and turned away.
"Beat it," Eddie Mars said.
The two gunmen went out again and closed the door.
There was the sound of them getting back into the car. They started its motor and kept it idling once more.
"All right. Talk," Eddie Mars snapped. The peaks of his eyebrows made sharp angles against his forehead.
"I'm not ready to give out.
Killing Geiger to grab his racket would be a dumb trick and I'm not sure it happened that way, assuming he has been killed.
But I'm sure that whoever got the books knows what's what, and I'm sure that the blonde lady down at his store is scared batty about something or other.
And I have a guess who got the books."
"Who?"
"That's the part I'm not ready to give out.
I've got a client, you know."
He wrinkled his nose.
"That — " he chopped it off quickly.
"I expected you would know the girl," I said.
"Who got the books, soldier?"
"Not ready to talk, Eddie.
Why should I?"
He put the Luger down on the desk and slapped it with his open palm.
"This," he said.
"And I might make it worth your while."
"That's the spirit.
Leave the gun out of it.
I can always hear the sound of money.
How much are you clinking at me?"
"For doing what?"
"What did you want done?"
He slammed the desk hard. "Listen, soldier.
I ask you a question and you ask me another.