12 Chinks and A Woman (10 page)

     Fenner went to a cupboard, took out a bottle of Scotch, and gave himself a drink.
     He lit a cigarette and took off his hat and coat. It was very hot and close in the room. He walked over to the open window and looked into the deserted street. “You'd better tell me,” he said.
     She said, “I don't know anything about it.”
     He wandered back to the bed and sat down. “Then the quicker you get out of this room the better pleased I'll be. I don't want to be dragged into a murder rap.”
     She said, between choking sobs: “I found him. He was lying on the floor. Someone had shot him.”
     Fenner ran his fingers through his hair. “Who?” he said gently.
     “Harry—Thayler, the man I was with.”
     Fenner brooded. “Where is he?” he said at last.
     Glorie took her hands away. Fenner experienced a little shock. She certainly wasn't crying. She was play-acting. She said, “On his boat.”
     “When did you find him?”
     “Just before I came to you.”
     Fenner rubbed his eyes. He got up and put his coat and hat on again. “Wait here,” he said. “I'm goin' down to have a look at him.”
     She said, “I'll come with you.”
     Fenner shook his head. “You keep out of this. Stay here. When I get back I want to talk to you.”
     Then he went out of the room and down to the waterfront.
     He found
Nancy W
and climbed on board. He went down into the main cabin. It was dark and he couldn't find the light switch. He used his torch, but he couldn't find Thayler. He searched the whole boat, but he couldn't find anything. The small sleeping cabin aft made him pause. He found a bundle of whips and a lot of other things he didn't like the look of. He found a pair of very high-heeled boots with pliant rubber heels. He turned on the light in the cabin after closing the porthole. From the clothes lying about, he thought this must be where Thayler had slept.
     He went through the chest of drawers carefully.
     The only thing he found which really astonished him was a small photo of Curly Robbins taken, as far as he could judge, several years ago. He took the photo and put it in his wallet. Then he shut the drawer and snapped off the light.
     He went back to the main cabin again and examined the carpet. It was only when he looked very closely that he could see that the carpet had been recently washed in one small patch. He stood up, scratching his head. He was quite certain now that Thayler was not on board.
     Was Thayler dead? Could he rely on what Glorie had said? If he'd been killed, who had got rid of his body and washed up the carpet? Had Glorie killed him? The last time he'd seen those two together they weren't exactly acting friendly.
     He said with exasperation, “Nuts!” and went out of the cabin. As he stepped on the jetty he noticed a big sedan drawn up without lights on the other side of the waterfront. He gave it a quick look, and then dropped flat. A choked roar came from the car as he did so and he knew someone had let off a shotgun in his direction. He pulled his gun and lay flat. He heard the car start and the swish of tires on the sandy road. Then the car swept out of sight round the sandy corner.
     Fenner got up and dusted himself. Things were getting complicated. He walked back to the Haworth, keeping in the shadows and using the back streets only.
     Glorie lay just where he had left her. Her face was a little pinched and the smile she gave him was only a twist of the mouth.
     He pulled up the chair again and sat down. “Was he in the main cabin when you saw him?” he said abruptly.
     She said, “Yes.”
     Fenner nodded, as if he expected that. “They've taken him away now,” he said. “I don't know why they did that, because if they wanted a fall-guy you'd've been it. Either you killed him and tossed him overboard, or you didn't and the killer came back for some reason or other and took him away. Maybe you tossed him overboard.”
     Glorie showed her long arms. “Do you think I could do it? He was big.”
     Fenner thought of the almost perpendicular stairs leading into the cabin, and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I guess that's right.”
     The color came back to her face and she didn't look so drawn. She said, “If they hid him away, no one will know he's dead, will they?”
     Fenner yawned. “That's right,” he said.
     She curled down in the bed, pulling the pillow off the bolster. “Don't you think I look snug?” she said, her eyes getting flirtatious again.
     “Those comic things I found in Thayler's cabin. Did he use them on you?” Fenner said gently.
     “I don't know. I didn't know him very well.” She had hitched up the sheet so that he couldn't see her face.
     Fenner said, “Where's your sister, Marian?”
     She didn't jump more than an inch, but it looked like a couple of yards. Fenner leaned over her and pulled her round. Her eyes were startled. “Where's your sister?” he repeated.
     She said, “What do you know about her?
How
do you know about her?”
     Fenner sat down close to her. “You're as like as two peas,” he said. “I've never seen anything quite like it.” He put his hand inside his pocket and took out the letter he had found in Marian's bag. “Look at that,” he said.
     She read it through blankly and then shook her head. “I don't know,” she said. “Who's Pio? Who's Noolen?”
     Fenner went over to the table, picked up a pad of notepaper and a pencil and came back to the bed. “Write that letter out for me,” he said.
     As she struggled up, he said hastily, “Wait.” He went to the cupboard and got his pajama jacket and threw it over to her. Then he went into the bathroom and waited a few seconds. When he came out she had put the coat on and was rolling back the long sleeves.
     She said, “Why do you want me to do this?”
     “Do it.” He spoke very curtly.
     She scribbled on the pad and then gave it to him. He compared the two handwritings. There was nothing similar about them. He tossed the pad on the table again, and began to walk up and down the room slowly. She watched him nervously.
     “You've got a sister, haven't you?” he said at last.
     She hesitated, then she said, “Yes; but we haven't seen each other for a very long time.”
     “How long? Why haven't you?”
     “Four or five years, I forget exactly. Marian and I didn't get on so well. She'd got ideas about how I should live. We didn't quarrel, but she kept having ideas. So we split when Father died.”
     Fenner said gently, “You're lying. If you hadn't seen each other for that length of time, why did she come to me all fussed because you were missing?
     Two little patches of red burnt in Glorie's cheeks. “I didn't know she came to you. Who are you, anyway?”
     “Never mind who I am. When did you last see Marian?”
     Glorie looked sulky. “I was in New York with Harry. We ran into each other. It was about a couple of weeks ago. I was up there on a trip. Marian wanted me to come to her hotel. I said I would, because she was so insistent. I had Harry with me. It was awkward. Marian wouldn't stand for Harry, so I gave her the slip and came back to Florida.”
     Fenner came over and sat on the bed. “Either you're telling a lot of lies, or else there's somethin' I've missed in all this,” he said.
     Glorie shook her head from side to side. “I'm not lying,” she said. “Why should I?”
     “Listen, did you say anything to your sister about twelve Chinamen?”
     “Twelve Chinamen? Why should I?”
     “Don't keep sayin' 'Why should I?'“ Fenner said savagely. “It confuses me.”
     As far as he could see he was no further now he'd met this girl, than he was before. He thought, and then said, “Why Leadler? Why not Daley?” “Leadler's my married name,” Glorie said. “I was divorced a year ago.”
     Fenner grunted. “Where's your husband?”
     She shook her head. “I don't know,” she said. “Why?”
     Fenner didn't answer. Instead he said, “Your sister was murdered last week in a house in Brooklyn.”
     There was a long silence. Glorie said, “I don't believe it.” Her eyes crawled up and down Fenner's face.
     Fenner shrugged. “You don't have to,” he said; “but she was murdered all right. I liked that girl. She came to me for help. I didn't like the way she met her finish, an' I'm promising myself to fix the guy who killed her.”
     Glorie took his coat in her hand. She twisted the coat and shook him. “Marian dead?” she said. “You sit there like that and say that to me? You haven't any pity for me? Marian—Marian—”
     Fenner put his hand on her wrist and jerked her hand away. “Cut it out,” he said. “You can't act. You don't give a hoot what happened to Marian.”
     Glorie looked at him and then giggled. She put her hand over her mouth and her eyes looked shocked. “I shouldn't've done that,” she said. “Fancy Marian getting murdered.” She rolled over in the bed and buried her face in the pillows. She began to shake with laughter.
     Fenner had a sudden idea. He put his hand on her head, shoved her down into the pillow, and pulled down the sheet with his other hand. Still holding her, he jerked the pajama jacket over her shoulders and looked carefully at her back. Her shoulders and back were bruised, but they had none of the deep weals that Marian had had. He pulled the jacket down and pulled up the sheet, then he stepped back.
     Glorie twisted round, her eyes bright. “Why—why did you do that?” she said.
     “Did you know your sister had weals all over her back too?” Fenner said.
     “You know everything, don't you? We can't help it; that's the way we're both made,” and she began to cry. When Fenner saw the tears running from her eyes, he walked away to the window. He began to feel horribly tired. He said abruptly: “I'll see more of you tomorrow,” and walked to the door. The sound of her sobbing followed him downstairs. He thought, “I'll go crazy if somethin' doesn't happen soon,” and he went to the night clerk to arrange for another room.
      
     The bright sunlight came through the slatted shutters and lay like prison bars across Fenner's bed.
     He stirred restlessly as the clock downstairs faintly chimed ten. At the eighth chime he opened his eyes and grunted. His body still felt tired, and his head ached a little. He was dimly conscious of the sunlight, and he closed his eyes again. Then, as his mind struggled out of sleep, he was aware of a weight at the foot of his bed and scent on the air. As he groaned, Glorie giggled. He looked at her through half-closed eyes, and his half awakened senses said she looked very nice. She was curled up, with her back resting on the end of the bedstead, her long legs up to her chin, and her fingers laced round her knees. She rested her chin in the little hollow between her knees and regarded Fenner with bright eyes.
     “When you're asleep, you look kind and beautiful,” she said. “Isn't that wonderful?”
     Fenner struggled up in bed. He ran his fingers through his hair. He felt terrible.
     “Would you mind goin' away?” he said patiently. “When I want to see you, I'll tell you. I dislike women in my bedroom on principle. I'm old-fashioned and I'm easily shocked.”
     Glorie giggled. “You're cute,” she said simply.
     Fenner groaned. Now he was sitting up, his head ached sharply. “Run away,” he said. “Beat it! Scram!”
     Glorie threw her arms wide. Her incredibly blue eyes sparkled. “Look at me,” she said. “I'm defenseless. You could do what you liked with me.”
     Fenner said unpleasantly, “Will you run away?”
     Glorie slid off the bed. She looked pretty funny in Fenner's pajamas. They hung on her like a sack.
     Fenner said rashly, “Anyway, you look like something the cat dragged in. Why not go away and get dressed, then maybe we'll have breakfast and another talk.
     Glorie clapped her hands. “Of course,” she said, and unbuttoned the coat. She took it off and threw it across the room.
     Fenner said, “Hi! Stop it!” Her body had the splendor of clean-cut marble, and the luster of a pearl.
     Fenner said, “Very, very nice. Some other time, perhaps. Right now, I want some coffee, very black and strong. The early mornin' ain't the time.”
     Glorie giggled and began dancing round the room. Fenner thought she was the most beautiful bit of corruption he'd ever seen.
     She laughed at him. “Like me?” she said.
     Fenner sat up, leaning on his elbow. He said, “Put your nice pajamas on and go away. We can't go on with this.”
     Doubt had come into her eyes, like the slow movement of a cloud across the face of the moon. Her eyes began to lose their luster. She came over to the bed and sat very close to him. She said hoarsely, “What's the matter with me? Am I so horrible that you can't?”
     Fenner shook his head. “You're not horrible,” he said. “But that sort of thing means more to me than it does to you. Now, will you get dressed?”
     Her eyes went dull and she stood up. She put on the pajamas slowly and wandered out of the room. She left the door wide open. Fenner got out of bed, kicked the door shut and went into the bathroom. He thought, “What a hell of a note to start the morning on.” After a shower he felt better and he rang for coffee. He was dressed when the waiter brought up the coffee.
     Two cups put him right and he went along to Glorie's room. She was dressed. Her black evening dress looked out of place in the sunlight. She was sitting by the window looking into the street.
     Fenner wandered in and shut the door softly behind him. He said, “What are you goin' to do?”
     Glorie turned and smiled at him. It was quite a shock. Her eyes were wide, candid and friendly. She said, “What can I do?”
     He leaned against the wall and stared at her thoughtfully.
     He said at last, “You're difficult to understand. I thought I was goin' to have a lot of trouble with you. I see I was wrong.”
     She swiveled round, her back to the window. “I still think you're cute,” she said. Then she added, “I'm going to grow on you.”
     Fenner's eyes shifted past her, looked into the street. A black sedan was standing below. He'd seen that car before. Even as he started forward a man's arm came through the curtained window. The sun reflected on a gun. That was the flash picture Fenner had, a picture that paralyzed him, making him seconds late. He heard a faint
phut
as Glorie screamed. Not a loud scream, soft, hoarse. Then she bent at the knees. Before Fenner could do anything about it, she slid to the floor.
     The sedan went away fast. It all happened at such an incredible speed that no one seemed conscious of it in the street. Fenner leaned out of the window, saw the sedan swing round the corner and then disappear.