Late Sunday morning Nestor Burns was awakened by the loud jangling of his telephone on an end table by the bed. As he jumped awake his legs kicked at the hulking German shepherd who had been curled up on the blankets by his feet, and the startled animal pounced from the bed, muttering a low indignant growl.
"Hello?" Burns said groggily into the receiver.
"It's your old friend, Nestor… Rocky Olson," the voice greeted him. "I'm callin' about the two hundred bucks you owe me."
"Yeah, sure, Rocky," Nestor croaked, a big broad smile lighting up his face. "I'll have it by the end of the week for you." He had been expecting this call for a long time, in fact, dreading it, except now he had that Baxter woman wrapped around his thumb, and by Friday she was going to drop off five thousand bucks – plenty more than he needed to bail out his poker losses over the past month.
"That's not good enough, Nestor," the voice droned wearily.
"What are you talking about? You know I always pay off," Burns protested.
"Still not good enough, Nestor," Rocky said, this time a bit more impatiently.
By now Burns was beginning to lose his composure. Olson was one credit he didn't want to fool around with for one simple reason… he had connections with the syndicate.
"Now wait a minute, Rocky… I swear, I'm on a big case. I get my fee on Friday."
"Try again, Nestor," Rocky said.
"All right, all right… Look, what's two hundred bucks anyway. How come you can't wait till Friday?"
"Rocky don't like people who borrow his money."
"All right, all right," Burns assured him. "I'll get it for you before Friday."
"Get it for me Tuesday," Rocky demanded. "I can't wait no later the Tuesday. I gotta have money to go to the movies."
"Okay, okay, Tuesday then," Burns gave in. "I'll have it for you Tuesday." He could feel himself beginning to sweat.
"I'll be over Tuesday night."
"Naturally you're gonna give me a chance to win it back, right?" the detective suggested.
"Sure," Rocky agreed, "but if I don't see it first I'm gonna bust your head." Without hesitating any longer; the threatening party at the other end suddenly clicked the receiver down and Burns was left listening to the ominous buzz of the dead phone.
Hurriedly, he threw off the bedclothes, retrieved his pants from the closet and withdrew his wallet… a hundred dollars. It was not enough to pay Olson off. Of course, he could always bluff and take a chance on winning the money back, but he had done that one too many times already. This time it was going to be different, Rocky would see to that. But why couldn't Olson wait until Friday? He cursed to himself. There was going to be trouble if he couldn't get his hands on at least another hundred before Tuesday, he knew that for sure, and he began to pace the bedroom in his undershorts, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. If he hit the Baxter woman for more money she might start getting suspicious that he was putting the squeeze on her. She might get scared and back out of the whole deal. No, that was no good, he had to find another way out.
Suddenly, an idea flashed through his mind like lightning, and he snapped his fingers. Why hadn't he thought of it earlier? It was that Baxter woman's husband who could bail him out. Sure, he thought, it would be a simple matter to hit that rich lawyer for a couple of hundred bucks, and nobody would ever know. Burns chuckled to himself. Now he was going to put the squeeze on both of them.
Sunday evening after dinner Rod Baxter noticed that his wife had been drinking more than usual. Already she had downed two strong martinis, and now she was in the midst of fixing herself a third from a pitcher on the cocktail table. She fidgeted nervously as she sat on the edge of the comfortably curved living room couch, and while Rod observed her from his easy chair, he swished the liquid around in his own drink and took a mild sip.
"Where are you going tonight?" he asked as casually as he could.
"I'm not going anywhere," Sally snapped irritably, her tongue already thick from drinks.
"What makes you think I'm going somewhere?"
"You're nervous again," he said calmly.
"I'm not nervous," she barked. Rod, without taking his eyes off her, chuckled to himself. He knew when it was time to shut up, and at that very moment when he had just decided to let well enough alone, he was saved by the bell. The telephone rang, and to his surprise, Sally did not jump up immediately to answer it.
"It's probably for you," he said.
"I don't want it even if it is for me," she replied tartly. Pushing himself up off the chair, Rod let out a deep sigh, and headed for the phone by the stairway to the second floor. He did not immediately recognize Nestor Burns' voice.
"Who?" he asked loudly.
"Burns, Nestor Burns, private detective. Remember, you hired me?"
"Yes, of course," Rod corrected himself. "But if this is a business matter, perhaps you should call me at the office on Monday."
"Never mind about that," the detective said, taking command of the situation. "I might have something hot for you Mr. Baxter, real hot."
"Oh?" Rod shot a quick glance over his shoulder at Sally to see if it was safe to talk.
"Yeah… about your wife…" Burns continued. "But I'm not sure of the particulars yet. Can we get together tomorrow?"
"Hmmm," Rod mumbled all along he'd had his doubts about this Burns fellow, but if Burns really did have something hot as he said, it would be worth finding out at the earliest possible moment. On the other hand, if Burns were bluffing, if he were just trying to squeeze more money from the case, there was no point even bothering with him.
"Well?" the detective waited. "Can you make it or not?"
Rod hemmed and hawed as he turned the question over in his mind. Sally had been acting strange tonight. The way she had been fidgeting nervously, the way she had downed her drinks so quickly. Perhaps something really was going on between her and some other man. Perhaps this detective really had picked up something hot. In a moment Rod Baxter's mind was made up.
"All right, lunch tomorrow," he agreed finally.
"Good," Burns answered. "The Circle Diner in South Philadelphia. Ya know where that is?"
"I don't believe so."
As the detective rattled off the directions, Rod scribbled them on a pad of paper beside the telephone.
"Tomorrow at noon, okay?"
"Agreed." With that, Rod hung up the phone and strolled back to his easy chair.
"Who was that?" Sally asked tensely. She had set the empty glass on the table in front of her, and her hands were gripping the edge of the sofa.
"Just a client," Rod answered nonchalantly.
"Calling you at home?"
"Some unfinished business. You know, you are awfully jumpy tonight."
"Stop it, stop it!" Sally cried, suddenly out of control. In a fit of anger and confusion she sprang from the couch, nearly knocking over the pitcher of martinis on the cocktail table and dashed upstairs, the skirt of her light print dress swishing swiftly from side to side.
Rod raised his eyebrows as he settled back in his chair. He certainly hadn't expected that kind of a reaction from his wife.
But for Sally it was perfectly understandable, the tension that had been building inside her threatened to burst through and shatter what remained of her composure. Now as she dashed through the bedroom door, she flung herself on the bed and began sobbing hysterically.
Why, why did I expose myself to those young boys? she cried. If only I'd known that Rod was getting suspicious. If only I'd been smart enough to realize that private detective had been following me, none of this would have happened. I'm trapped now, and there's no way out.
The only hope left, Sally realized was that the detective would keep his word and return the films to her. Then Rod would never know, and perhaps there would be a second chance… some faint chance that she could overcome her panty compulsion with a tremendous effort of will. It was her last hope. Her face buried in the pillows, Sally sobbed herself to sleep that night, and when she awoke the next morning, her husband had already left for work… It was now eleven in the morning, Rod had hardly been able to concentrate at all with his mind preoccupied by the meeting that was to take place. When lunch time finally rolled around, he experienced a feeling of great relief as he threw on his coat and headed out the office door.
At noon he met Nestor Burns in a booth at the Circle Diner in South Philadelphia. Taking his seat opposite the disheveled private detective, he folded his hands on the table determined to get down to business immediately.
"What's this information you were hinting at over the phone?" Rod began, fixing Burns with his steel-blue business-like eyes.
The detective cracked a wry smile and said.
"It's nothing definite now, you understand. But you know I've been following your wife for over two weeks now."
"Yes, I know," Rod said impatiently.
"Well, I think your suspicions just might pan out. I have reason to believe your wife is planning a rendezvous with a certain party this Friday night." It was a stroke of genius Burns thought. The Baxter dame really would be gone, but her rendezvous was going to be right in Nestor Burns' apartment. Her absence on Friday night would make Rod Baxter think that he, Burns, had actually turned up some evidence on her. That way, Baxter would be less likely to complain about the extra money he was going to pay…
"Just who is this certain party," Rod demanded after a long silence.
"Now, now, Mr. Baxter," Burns cautioned calmly. "I told you it's nothing definite, but I'm sure you'll want me to check it out." Burns smiled inwardly as he realized that Baxter was hooked now. He had just jumped at the bait…
But for a moment Rod eyed the detective suspiciously. He had been a good lawyer for too long not to know a con man like Burns. Any minute now, this detective was going to throw him a pitch for more money. The problem was, he could also be telling the truth, and if there were any chance Sally had been cheating on him, he wanted to find out. He loved her too much not to know the score however painful it might be.
"Of course, Mr. Baxter, this is going to involve an additional fee for expenses," Burns continued.
"Two hundred fifty dollars." At the detective's words Rod paused for a moment, giving Burns a thorough once-over. And then reluctantly he reached into his coat pocket and began making out the check.