"It might be the real McCoy . . . then again it might be an accident. I can't see why York would pull a stunt like that."

"There're possibilities here. York was no young man when his son was born. He might have wanted an heir awfully bad."

"I thought of that, Pat, but there's one strike against it. If York was going to pull a switch, with his knowledge of genetics he certainly would have taken one with a more favorable family history, don't you think?"

"Yes, if he made the switch himself. But if it were left up to someone else . . . the nurse, for instance, the choice might have been pretty casual."

"But the nurse stated . . ."

"York was very wealthy, Mike."

"I get it. But there's another side too. Mallory, being a cheap chiseler, might have realized the possibilities in setting up a squawk after his own child died, and picked on York. Mallory would figure York would come across with some hard cash just to keep down that kind of publicity. How does that read?"

"Clever, Mike, very clever. But which one do you believe believe?"

The picture of York's face when he heard the name Mallory flashed across my mind. The terror, the stark terror; the hate. York the strong. He wouldn't budge an inch if Mallory had simply been trying some judicious blackmail. Instead, he would have been the one to bring the matter to the police. I said: "It was a switch, Pat."

"That puts it on Mallory."

I nodded. "He must have waited a long time for his chance. Waited until the kid was worth his weight in gold to York and the public, then put the s.n.a.t.c.h on him. Only he underestimated the kid and bungled the job. When York went to Grange's place, Mallory followed him, thinking that York might have figured where the kidnapping came from and split his skull."

"Did you try to trace the cleaver, Mike?"

"No, it was the kind you could buy in any hardware store, and it was well handled, besides. A tool like that would be nearly impossible to trace. There was no sense in my fooling around with it. Price will track it down if it's possible. Frankly, I don't think it'll work. What's got me now is why someone ripped out this clipping in the Sidon library. Even as a stall it wouldn't mean much."

"It's bound to have a bearing."

"It'll come, it'll come. How about trying to run down Mallory for me? Think you can find anything on him?"

"We should, Mike. Let's go down to headquarters. If he was pinched at all we'll have a record of it."

"Roger." We were lucky enough to nab a cab waiting for the red light on the corner of Fifth and Forty-second. Pat gave him the downtown address and we leaned back into the cushions. Fifteen minutes later we got out in front of an old-fashioned red brick building and took the elevator to the third floor. I waited in an office until Pat returned bearing a folder under his arm. He cleared off the desk with a sweep of his hand and shook the contents out on the blotter.

The sheaf was fastened with a clip. The typewritten notation read, Herron Mallory Herron Mallory. As dossiers go, it wasn't thick. The first page gave Mallory's history and record of his first booking. Age twenty in 1927; born in New York City of Irish-Russian parents. Charged with operating a vehicle without a license. That was the starter. He came up on bootlegging, petty larceny; he was suspected of partic.i.p.ating in a hijack-killing and a holdup. Plenty of charges, but a fine list of cases suspended and a terse "not convicted" written across the bottom of the page. Mr. Mallory either had a good lawyer or friends where it counted. The last page bore his picture, a profile and front view shot of a dark fellow slightly on the thin side with eyes and mouth carrying an inbred sneer.

I held it under the light to get a better look at it, studying it from every angle, but nothing clicked.

Pat said, "Well?"

"No good, chum. Either I never saw him before or the years have changed him a lot. I don't know the guy from Adam."

He held out a typewritten report. One that had never gotten past a police desk. I read it over. In short, it was the charges that Mallory had wanted filed against York for kidnapping his kid. No matter who Mallory was or had been, there was a note of sincerity in that statement. There was also a handwritten note on hospital stationery from Head Nurse Rita Cambell briefly decrying the charge as absolutely false. There was no doubt about it. Rita Cambell's note was aggressive and a.s.suring enough to convince anyone that Mallory was all wet. Fine state of affairs. I had never partic.i.p.ated in the mechanics of becoming a father, but I did know that the male parent was Johnny-the-Glom as far as the hospital was concerned. He saw his baby maybe once for two minutes through a tiny gla.s.s plate set in the door. Sure, it would be possible to recognize your child even in that time, but all babies do look alike in most ways. To the nurse actually in charge of the child's entire life, however, each one has the separate ident.i.ty of a person. It was unlikely that she would make a mistake . . . unless paid for it. d.a.m.n, it could could happen unless you knew nurses. Doubt again. Nurses had a code of ethics as rigid as a doctor's. Any woman who gave her life to the profession wasn't the type that would succ.u.mb to a show of long green. happen unless you knew nurses. Doubt again. Nurses had a code of ethics as rigid as a doctor's. Any woman who gave her life to the profession wasn't the type that would succ.u.mb to a show of long green.

h.e.l.l, I was getting all balled up. First I was sure it was a switch, now I wasn't so sure. Pat had seen the indecision in my face. He can figure things, too. "There it is, Mike. I can't do anything more because it's outside my jurisdiction, but if I can help you in any way, say the word."

"Thanks, kid. It really doesn't make much difference whether it was a switch or not. Someplace Mallory figures in it. Before I can go any further I'll have to find either Mallory or Grange, but don't ask me how. If Price turns up Grange I'll get a chance to talk to her, but if Dilwick is the one I'll be out in the cold."

Pat looked sour. "Dilwick ought to be in jail."

"Dilwick ought to be dead. He's a b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"He's still the law, though, and you know what that means."

"Yeah."

Pat started stuffing the papers back in the folder, but I stopped him. "Let me take another look at them, will you?"

"Sure."

I rifled through them quickly, then shook my head.

"Something familiar?"

"No . . . I don't think so. There's something in there that's ringing a bell, but I can't put my finger on it. Oh, nuts, put 'em away."

We went downstairs together and shook hands in the doorway. Pat hailed a cab and I took the next one up to Fifty-fourth and Eighth, then out over to the parking lot. The day was far from being wasted; I was getting closer to the theme of the thing. On top of everything else there was a possible baby switch. It was looking up now. Here was an underlying motive that was as deep and unending as the ocean. The groping, the fumbling after ends that led nowhere was finished. This was meat that could be eaten. But first it had to be chewed; chewed and ground up fine before it could be swallowed.

My mind was hammering itself silly. The dossier. What was in the dossier? I saw something there, but what? I went over it carefully enough; I checked everything against everything else, but what did I forget?

The h.e.l.l with it. I shoved the key in the ignition and stepped on the starter.

CHAPTER 9.

Going back to Sidon I held it down to a slow fifty, stopping only once for a quick bite and a tank of gas. Someday I was going to get me a decent meal. Someday. Three miles from the city I turned off the back road to a cloverleaf, then swung onto the main artery. When I reached the state police headquarters I cut across the concrete and onto the gravel.

For once Price was in when I wanted him.

So was Dilwick.

I said h.e.l.lo to Price and barely nodded to Dilwick.

"You lousy slob!" he muttered softly.

"Shut up, pig."

"Maybe you both better shut up," Price put in quietly. I threw my hat on the desk and pushed a b.u.t.t between my lips. Price waited until I lit it, then jerked his thumb toward the fat cop.

"He wants words with you, Mike."

"Let's hear 'em," I offered.

"Not here, wise guy. I think you'd do better at the station. I don't want to be interrupted."

That was a nasty dig at Price, and the sergeant took it right up. "Forget that stuff," he barked, "while he's here he's under my jurisdiction. Don't forget it."

For a minute I thought Dilwick was going to swing and I was hoping he would. I'd love to be in a two-way scramble over that guy. The odds were too great. He looked daggers at Price. "I won't forget it," he repeated.

Price led off. "Dilwick says you broke into the Grange apartment and confiscated something of importance. What about it, Mike?"

I let Dilwick have a lopsided grin. "Did I?"

"You know d.a.m.n well you did! You'd better . . ."

"How do you know it was important?"

"It's gone, that's reason enough."

"h.e.l.l."

"Wait a minute, Mike," Price cut in. "What did you take?"

I saw him trying to keep his face straight. Price liked this game of baiting Dilwick.

"I could say nothing, pal, and he couldn't prove a thing. I bet you never found any prints of mine, did you, Dilwick?" The cop's face was getting redder. ". . . and the way you had that building bottled up n.o.body should should have been able to get in, should they?" Dilwick would split his seams if I kept it up any longer. "Sure, I was there, so what? I found what a dozen of you missed." have been able to get in, should they?" Dilwick would split his seams if I kept it up any longer. "Sure, I was there, so what? I found what a dozen of you missed."

I reached in my pocket and yanked out the two wills. Dilwick reached a shaking hand for them but I pa.s.sed them to Price. "This old one was in Grange's apartment. It isn't good because this is the later one. Maybe it had better be filed someplace."

Dilwick was watching me closely. "Where did the second one come from?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

I was too slow. The back of Dilwick's hand nearly rocked my head off my shoulders. The arm of a chair hit my side and before I could spill over into it Dilwick had my shirt front. Price caught his hand before he could swing again.

I kicked the chair away and pulled free as Price stepped between us. "Let me go, Price!" I yelled.

"d.a.m.n it, I said to turn it off!"

Dilwick backed off reluctantly. "I'll play that back to you, Dilwick," I said. n.o.body was pulling that trick on me and getting by with it. It's a wonder he had the nerve to start something after that last pasting I gave him. Maybe he was hoping I'd try to use my rod . . . that would be swell. He could knock me off as nice as anything and call it police business.

"Maybe you'll answer the next time you're spoken to, Hammer. You've pulled a lot of shady deals around here lately and I'm sick of it. As for you, Price, you're treating him like he's carrying a badge. You've got me hog-tied, but that won't last long if I want to work on it."

The sergeant's voice was almost a whisper. "One day you're going to go too far. I think you know what I mean."

Evidently Dilwick did. His lips tightened into a thin line and his eyes blazed, but he shut up just the same. "Now if you have anything to say, say it properly."

With an obvious attempt at controlling his rage, Dilwick nodded. He turned to me again. "Where did you get the other will?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I repeated.

"You letting him get away with this, Price?"

The trooper was on the spot. "Tell him, Mike."

"I'll tell you, Price. He can listen in. I found it among York's personal effects."

For a full ten minutes I stood by while the two of them went over the contents of the wills. Price was satisfied with a cursory examination, but not so Dilwick. He read every line, then reread them. I could see the muscles of his mouth twitch as he worked the thing out in his mind. No, I was not underestimating Dilwick one bit. There wasn't much that went on that he didn't know about. Twice, he let his eyes slide off the paper and meet mine. It was coming. Any minute now.

Then it was here. "I could read murder into this," he grated.

Price turned sharply. "Yes?"

"Hammer, I think I'm going to put you on the spot."

"Swell. You'd like that. Okay, go ahead."

"Pull up your ears and get a load of this, Price. This punk and the Nichols dame could make a nice team. d.a.m.n nice. You didn't think I'd find out about those pictures, did you, Hammer? Well, I did. You know what it looks like to me? It looks like the Nichols babe blackmailed Grange into making York change his will. Let York see those shots and Grange's reputation would be shot to h.e.l.l, she'd be fired and lose out on the will to boot. At least if she came through on the deal, all she'd lose was the will."

I nodded. "Pretty, but where do I come in?"

"Right now. Grange got hold of those pictures somehow. Only Nichols pulls a fast one and tells York that Grange was the one who was blackmailing her. York takes off for Grange's apartment in a rage because he had a yen for his pretty little niece, only Grange b.u.mps him. Then Nichols corners you and you b.u.mp Grange and get the stuff off her, and the will. Now you turn it up, Nichols comes into a wad of cash and you split it."

It wasn't as bad as I thought. Dilwick had squeezed a lot of straight facts out of somebody, only he was putting it together wrong. Yeah, he had gotten around, all right. He had reached a lot of people to get that much and he'd like to make it stick.

Price said, "What about it, Mike?"

I grinned. "He's got a real sweet case there." I looked at the cop. "How're you going to prove it?"

"Never mind," he snarled, "I will, I will. Maybe I ought to book you right now on what I have. It'll hold up and Price knows it, too."

"Uh-uh. It'll hold up . . . for about five minutes. Did you find Grange yet?"

He said nothing.

"Nuts," I laughed, "no corpus delicti, no Mike Hammer."

"Wrong, Hammer. After a reasonable length of time and sufficient evidence to substantiate death, a corpse can be a.s.sumed."

"He's right, Mike."

"Then he's got to shoot holes in my alibi, Price. I have a pretty tight one."

"Where did you go after you left Alice's apartment the other night?" Brother, I should have guessed it. Dilwick had put the bee on the Graham kid and the b.a.s.t.a.r.d copped a sneak. It was ten to one he told Dilwick he hadn't seen me.

That's what I get for making enemies. If the Graham kid thought he could put me on the spot he'd do it. So would Alice for that matter.

But there were still angles. "Go ahead and work on my alibi, Dilwick. You know what it is. Only I'll give you odds that I can make your witness see the light sooner than you can."

"Not if you're in the can."

"First get me there. I don't think you can. Even if you did a good lawyer could rip those phonies apart on the stand and you know it. You're stalling, Dilwick. What're you scared of? Me? Afraid I'll put a crimp in your doings?"

"You're asking for it, punk."