"Okay, babe. Talk, or I'll put real
pressure on this scissors!"

Bag Ears said, "Man oh man!"

Joy said, "Quit gaping, you moron! I'm back here too."

I gave Bag Ears a stern admonition to keep his eyes front.

"Give," Joy gritted.

"Ouch! No!"

"Give!"

Cora gave forth an agonized wail. Then an indignant gasp. "Cut it out!
You fight dirty! That ain't fair!"

"Give!"

"All right! All right. Pete's meeting Hands
at--ouch--Joe's--ouch--Tavern on Clark Street. Ouch! Cut it out, will
you?"

And it was here that I detected a trace of sadism in my lovely wife.
"All right," she said regretfully. "Sit up. Gee, but you talk easy."

"Just where is this tavern?" I asked. "And what is the purpose of the
meeting?"

Cora's resistance was entirely gone. "In the 2800 block. Pete went there
to get some money from Hands to skip town with."

Joy now spoke with relish. "Lying again. I'll have to--"

"I ain't lying!"

"Don't give us that! Uncle Peter is wealthy. He doesn't need Hands'
money. Come here, baby."

"Wait, Joy," I cut in hastily. "The young lady may be telling the truth.
Uncle Peter is always short of funds. You see, Aunt Gretchen holds the
purse strings in our family and Uncle Peter is always overdrawn on his
allowance."

"Then let's get to that tavern and find out what's going on."

It took ten minutes to reach the tavern; a standard gin mill with a red
neon sign proclaiming its presence. We quitted the car and I entered
first, Joy bringing Cora along with a certain amount of force, and Bag
Ears bringing up the rear.

And I was just in time to prevent another murder.

As I came through the door, I saw Hands and Uncle Peter leaning casually
against the bar. There was no one else in the place. The barkeep was
facing his two customers and there were three glasses set before them.
The barkeep held one in his hand.

Uncle Peter had just finished spiking the barkeep's drink with a clear
fluid from a small vial. Uncle Peter said, "It's something new I
invented. Pure dynamite. You haven't lived until you've tasted my
elixir."

* * * * *

Hands said, "Go ahead. Drink it. I want to make sure I wasn't seeing
things back at that dame's house."

The barkeep said, "Pure dynamite, huh?"

"Your not fooling, chum."

He raised the glass and grinned. "Salud."

I got to the bar just in time to knock the glass out of his hairy paw.
He grunted, "What the hell--oh, a wise guy, huh?