THE AMBULANCE MADE TWO TRIPS
By MURRAY LEINSTER
Illustrated by Scoenherr
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding ScienceFiction April 1960. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence thatthe U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
If you should set a thief to catch a thief, what does it take tostop a racketeer...?
Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald found a package before his door thatmorning, along with the milk. He took it inside and opened it. It was aremarkably fine meerschaum pipe, such as the sergeant had longedirrationally to own for many years. There was no message with it, norany card. He swore bitterly.
On his way to Headquarters he stopped in at the orphanage where heusually left such gifts. On other occasions he had left Scotch, afly-rod, sets of very expensive dry-flies, and dozens of pairs of silksocks. The female head of the orphanage accepted the gift withgratitude.
"I don't suppose," said Fitzgerald morbidly, "that any of your kids willsmoke this pipe, but I want to be rid of it and for somebody to know."He paused. "Are you gettin' many other gifts on this order, from othercops? Like you used to?"
The head of the orphanage admitted that the total had dropped off.Fitzgerald went on his way, brooding. He'd been getting anonymous giftslike this ever since Big Jake Connors moved into town with bright ideas.Big Jake denied that he was the generous party. He expressed completeignorance. But Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald knew better. The gifts werehaving their effect upon the Force. There was a police lieutenant whosewife had received a mink stole out of thin air and didn't speak to herhusband for ten days when he gave it to the Community Drive. He wouldn'tdo a thing like that again! There was another sergeant—notFitzgerald—who'd found a set of four new white-walls tires on hisdoorstep, and was ostracized by his teen-age offspring when he turnedthem into the police Lost and Found. Fitzgerald gave his gifts to anorphanage, with a fine disregard of their inappropriateness. But hegloomily suspected that a great many of his friends were weakening. Thepresents weren't bribes. Big Jake not only didn't ask acknowledgments ofthem, he denied that he was the giver. But inevitably the recipients ofbounty with the morning milk felt less indignation about what Big Jakewas doing and wasn't getting caught at.
At Headquarters, Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald found a memo. A memo wasroutine, but the contents of this one were remarkable. He scowled at it.He made phone calls, checking up on the more unlikely parts of it. Thenhe went to make the regular investigation.
When he reached his destination he found it an unpretentious framebuilding with a sign outside: "Elite Cleaners and Dyers." There were noplate-glass windows. There was nothing show-off about it. It was just amedium-sized, modestly up-to-date establishment to which lessertailoring shops would send work for wholesale treatment. From some placein the back, puffs of steam shot out at irregular intervals. Somebodyworked a steampresser on garments of one sort or another. There was arumbling hum, as of an oversized washing-machine in operation. Allseemed tranquil.
The detective went in the door. Inside there was that peculiar,professional-cleaning-fluid smell, which is not as alarming as gasolineor carbon tetrachloride, but nevertheless discourages the idea ofstriking a match. In t