12 Chinks and A Woman (14 page)

     Glorie said, “Don't mind me.”
     “Got a staff here?” Fenner asked, looking the house over.
     “I've got a woman who runs the place.”
     “That's fine. Bugsey can help her.” Once more Fenner turned to Bugsey. “Take the car back, then come on here. Miss Leadler will tell her woman you're coming. Then you make yourself useful until I want you. Get it?”
     Bugsey said, “You're payin' the bill,” and he drove the car away.
     Fenner followed Glorie into the bungalow. It was a nice place. A small Spanish woman appeared from nowhere, and Glorie waved her hand. “This is Mr. Fenner. He'll be staying a little while. Will you fix lunch?”
     The woman gave Fenner a quick look. He didn't quite like the smirk in her eyes, and she went away again.
     Glorie opened a door on the left of the lobby. “Go in there and rest yourself. I want to change.”
     Fenner said, “Sure,” and wandered into the room. It was comfortable: cushions, divans and more cushions. The open windows led out to the piazza, and the room was dim with subdued sunlight.
     The Spanish woman came in and laid a table for lunch on the piazza. Fenner sat on one of the divans and smoked. He said, “When you're through, you might get me a drink.” She took no notice of him, and he didn't bother to speak again. He sat quite still.
     Glorie came in after a while. She wore a black silk dress, ankle length, and red doeskin sandals. Her beautiful golden hair cascaded down around her shoulders. Her mouth was very red, and the sparkling light in her eyes was complemented by the translucent glow of numerous strings of pearls which wound around her neck and fell across the low cut bosom of her gown.
     She said, “Like me?” and pivoted slowly.
     “Yeah,” he said, getting up. “You're all right.”
     She made a little grimace at him and went over to fix drinks. The dress clung to her body.
     Fenner's mouth twisted. He told himself she was going to put on an act pretty soon.
     The ice-cold cocktails had a bite. When they sat down to the meal, Fenner felt fine. They got through the meal without saying much. Fenner was conscious of Glorie's eyes. She kept looking at him and then, when he glanced she'd look hurriedly away. They talked about the bungalow and the Spanish woman and things that didn't matter.
     After the woman had cleared away, Fenner lounged on the divan. Glorie moved restlessly about the room. Fenner followed her with his eyes because she was beautiful to watch. She said suddenly, “Don't sit there doing nothing.”
     “What do you want me to do?
     She went over to the window and looked out. The subdued light silhouetted her long legs through the white dress. Fenner watched her with interest.
     She said, “Come on, I'll show you my place.”
     “Bedroom first stop?” Fenner leaned on his elbow, his eyes half closed.
     She went to the door. “Come on.” There was a note of urgency in her voice.
     Fenner got off the divan and followed her across the lobby and into another large room. It was very bare. Polished boards, rugs and a large divan bed, that was all. A small dressing-room and a bathroom led off to the right. She stood aside to let Fenner pass and then shut the door behind her. Fenner heard her gently turn the key in the lock.
     He looked into the dressing-room and then into the bathroom, while she waited. “Very nice,” he said.
     He could hear the sound of her breathing from where he stood. He didn't look at her. He kept moving about the room while she waited. Then he said suddenly, “Let's talk.”
     She sat limply on the bed and stretched out flat on her back. She put her laced fingers behind her head. Fenner looked down, at her. His face was expressionless.
     “Thayler is the guy who runs Carlos' labor syndicate. He was married to Curly Robbins, Nightingale's assistant. Carlos has just killed her. You ran with Thayler. Did you know what his racket was?”
     She said, “Sit down here, and I'll talk to you.”
     He sat down close to her. “Well?”
     “Give me your hand.”
     He put his hand in hers. “Did you know?” he repeated.
     She gripped it hard. “Yes, I knew,” she said.
     Fenner sat very still. He could feel the warmth of her body against his hand. “Did you know he was married to Curly?”
     She lay with her eyes closed, her teeth biting her underlip. “No.”
     “You knew all about Carlos as well?”
     “Yes, I knew all about him.” She shifted his hand, and he took it away. She sat up. He saw how wild her eyes were. She wound her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to her. Before her lips could reach his mouth he shoved her away. “Cut it out,” he said harshly, getting to his feet. “You don't get anywhere with me.”
     He went out of the room, unlocking the door and leaving it open. He passed Bugsey wandering in from outside. He didn't say anything, but went on into the garden.
     Bugsey looked after him, a bewildered expression on his face. He went into the lobby and glanced into Glorie's room. Bugsey paused, staring. Glorie was lying on her side. The white dress was rumpled, and he could see white flesh where her stocking ended. He rubbed his chin. He blinked at her, hardly believing his eyes when she began to take off her dress. He shut the door.

     
     
     Towards evening Fenner returned to the bungalow; He found Bugsey sitting on the porch steps, making patterns on the gravel path with a piece of wood. He said, as he went past, “Did she bite?”
     Bugsey started, but before he could say anything, Fenner had passed into the bungalow. He went straight to Glorie's room.
     Glorie was sitting on the window-seat, dressed in a pale green wrap. She was looking out of the window, and she turned quickly as Fenner walked in. “Beat it,” she said harshly.
     Fenner shut the door. “I've got a little story to tell you. The Federal Bureau has been digging up the past, and I've been looking the dope over. Some quite interesting stuff.”
     Glorie sat very still. “What do you mean?” she said.
     Fenner sat on the bed. “I'll tell you,” he said evenly. “Some of it's just guess work, some of it's facts, but it makes a nice little story. It starts off in a hick town in Illinois. The guy who runs this town gets himself a young wife. That's all right, but the young wife has got big ideas. She begins to spend more money than her hubby can make. The name of this guy is Leadler, and he's a politician of sorts. You married him because you thought you could get out of the cheap song-and-dance show you were touring in. Well, you did. Leadler, to keep you in silk pants, helps himself to a lot of dough that belongs to the town. You both take a powder to Florida.”
     Glorie folded her hands in her lap. “You can't do anything to me,” she said.
     Fenner shook his head. “Hell! That's not the idea,” he said. “I wouldn't want to
do
anything to you. Let me go on. You and Leadler part. I don't know why, but as Thayler now appears on the scene, I take it you prefer a younger and richer man. Okay, you lose sight of Leadler, and you go for a cruise with Thayler. Now Thayler turns out to be one of those guys who like heating people. He's perverted that way. You're not exactly an angel, and you let him handle you the way he likes. Before you turn up, he was married to Curly Robbins, who wouldn't stand for his idea of love. Thayler absorbs the Chinks Carlos smuggles into the country. He pays Carlos so much a head, and sells the Chinks to sweat shops up the coast. Curly knew all about that, so it was dangerous to let her float around without being watched. Thayler gets her a job with Nightingale, who does odd jobs for Carlos. She gets good money, doesn't have to do much, and Nightingale can look after her. You want to divorce Leadler so you can marry Thayler. Thayler never told you he was married and you can't find Leadler. Then one day your boat comes in to Key West and you go along for an evening's fun to the local Casino. You recognize Noolen as your long lost husband. That's a surprise, isn't it?”
     Glorie chewed her underlip. “You think you're smart, don't you?” she said, stormily.
     “Noolen, or Leadler if you like, isn't doin' so well with his Casino, so he's willing to give you a divorce if you pay him for it. You want the dough to give to him, but Thayler won't part. It's stalemate for a moment. You don't care a lot for Thayler, it's his dough you want. That guy certainly rolls in dough. You want to be always sure you're going to get it, and the only way you can be sure is to marry him. The cops have turned up some dirt that proves that, while you were living with Thayler, you also had a Chinese running around with you. You two kept under cover, but not well enough. This Chink used to work for Carlos. He disappeared about a couple of months ago. Maybe Thayler found out and tipped Carlos. I don't know, but he disappeared. What happened to him, baby?”
     Glorie began to cry.
     Fenner went on, “Never mind. Maybe it doesn't matter. Now your mysterious sister turns up. She comes to see me. It's a funny thing, but the cops can't give me a lead on that dame. They can't dig further into your past than your song-and-dance days. This looks like your sister was a better girl than you, and she kept out of trouble. Why she came to me, and why she knew about the Chinamen, Noolen, and Carlos. I can't explain yet. I'll get round to it some day, but right now it's got me beat. As far as I'm concerned, it's your sister who gets me to come down here. I find the situation lined up like this:
     “Noolen's frightened of Thayler and Carlos. I can understand that now. He doesn't want anyone to know he's Leadler, and I bet you've told Thayler that, or if you haven't he thinks you have. You and Thayler are not getting on too well. You're quarrelling. Then, maybe, you learn that he's married, and you shoot him. You get scared and run to me. You like the look of me and you're looking round for someone to hook up with again, so after you've shot Thayler you come along to my hotel. Now you haven't killed Thayler. He's waitin' in his car parked by the boat. He nearly kills me and later, he tries to shoot you. Now, why does he do that? Because he knows you've taken somethin' from the boat, after you shot him. Isn't that right?”
     Glorie stopped crying. “Is that all you know?” she said.
     Fenner shrugged. “It helps, doesn't it?”
     Glorie didn't say anything.
     “Thayler's washed up as far as you're concerned. You and I can go after him. I'm going to smash Carlos and his racket, and Thayler may as well go with him. What do you think?”
     Glorie said, “I must think. Go away now. I want to get things straight.”
     Fenner got to his feet. “I'll be waiting in the other room. Make it snappy,” he said. He went to the door and then paused. “What was your sister to you?” he said abruptly.
     Glorie shifted her eyes. “Nothing,” she said. “I hated her. She was mean, narrow minded and a mischief-maker.”
     Fenner raised his eyebrows. “I don't believe a lot you say,” he said, “but maybe that's true. You're not sorrowing for her, are you?”
     “Why should I?” she said fiercely. “She got what was coming to her.”
     Fenner stood by the door. Then he said slowly, “That gives me an idea. You and Thayler were in New York at the time of her death. You two girls were almost twins. Suppose Thayler fell for her. Suppose he got her to that house and tried his tricks. Someone had beaten her raw when I saw her. Suppose you came in and found them, got jealous and killed her. Suppose Thayler got those two Cubans to carve her up and get rid of her. Were those two guys workin' for him?”
     Glorie said, “Oh, run away. You'll be thinking I'm worse than I am.”
     Fenner was quite startled at this new idea. He came back into the room again. “Was that the way it went?” he said. “Come on, did you kill Marian Daley?”
     Glorie laughed in his face. “You're nuts,” she said. “Of course I didn't.”
     Fenner scratched his head. He said, “No, I don't think that's quite the way it went. It won't explain the guy who said she was screwy, an' it won't explain the Chink in my office. Still, it's an idea.”
     He stood looking at her for several moments, then walked out of the room, leaving her polishing her nails on her silken thigh.
     Outside, Fenner went into the sitting room. A vague feeling of excitement stirred him, a feeling that he was approaching a solution of the mystery of this business. He went over to the sideboard and helped himself to a drink.
     Bugsey wandered in. “Got one for me?” he said hopefully.
     Fenner jerked his head. “Help yourself,” he said, sitting down on the divan.
     Bugsey poured a long drink and stood blinking at the glass. He took a long pull and smacked his lips.
     Fenner glanced at him, but said nothing.
     Bugsey fidgeted with his eyes, then said cautiously, “She ain't nice, is she?”
     “Who isn't?” Fenner was thinking about other things.
     “Her—in there.” Bugsey jerked his head. “There's somethin' the matter with her, or somethin', ain't there?'
     “What is all this?” Fenner wished he'd go.
     Bugsey said, “Oh, nothing,” and finished his drink. He looked at Fenner furtively, then helped himself to another. “Next time you go out, you might take me with you,” Bugsey said. “Somehow I don't feel too safe alone with her.”
     Fenner stared at him. “Why, I thought you wanted that dame,” he said, surprised.
     Bugsey's gooseberry eyes opened wide. “That was the idea,” he said; “but I don't like the way she goes on.”
     Fenner scowled at him. “Listen, pal,” he said. “Would you take a little walk? I've got a lot on my mind, and the ups and downs of your love life confuse me.”
     Bugsey finished his drink. “Sure, sure,” he said apologetically. “I guess I'll take a little nap. That dame kind of exhausted me.” He shuffled off.
     Fenner lay on the divan, holding the glass of Scotch, and staring out of the window. He stayed that way for a long time. Hosskiss, the Federal man, had been very helpful. He had turned all his information over to Fenner, and promised to try to dig up some more during the next few days. He was even hopeful of finding a line on Marian Daley, although up to now he couldn't dig up anything. Noolen, so long as he kept to Florida, was safe. He couldn't be prosecuted. Fenner wondered how smart Noolen was, and if he could be bluffed. He thought he might try and see how he got on.
     He was still there when Glorie came in at sundown. She sat by his side.
     Fenner said, “Well, you thought it over?”
     She said, “Yes.”
     There was a long pause. Fenner said, “You're wondering what's goin' to happen to you, aren't you? You think if Thayler goes, you've got to start hunting around for some other man to keep you.”
     Glorie's eyes hardened. “You think of everything, don't you?” she said.
     “Don't get high hat. I've thought about you, too. It's going to be tough, but there's no other way out. Thayler's on the skids, and the sooner you cut away from him the safer it's going to be for you. You don't need to worry. Take a look at a mirror. A dame like you won't starve.”
     Glorie giggled. “You're cute,” she said. “I want to hate you, but you're too cute. Don't you ever make love to a girl?”
     Fenner said, “Let's keep to business. Never mind what I do. I'm working now, and I never play when I work.”
     Glorie sighed. “I guess that's all hooey.”
     Fenner nodded. This was boring him. “Now what about Thayler? Did you take anything from him?”
     Glorie pouted. “Why do you think I did?”
     “It's a guess. Why did he want to shoot you? Revenge? Too risky. He knew you were with me. To stop you talking? Yes, that adds up.”
     Glorie went over to the sideboard and opened a wooden biscuit chest. She came back with a small leather wallet. She threw it into his lap. “I took that,” she said defiantly.
     Fenner found a number of papers in the wallet. He lit a cigarette and went through them carefully. Glorie at first sat close to him, watching, then, when she saw how absorbed he was, she got up and went out on the piazza. She fidgeted around for nearly ten minutes, then she came back again. Fenner said, without looking up from his reading, “Get a meal together, baby; I'm going to have a late night.”
     She went out and left him. Later, when she came back, he was sitting where she had left him, smoking. The wallet and the papers weren't any longer in sight.
     “Well?” she said.
     Fenner looked at her. His eyes were hard. “Any of those guys know you've got this place?”
     She shook her head. “No one.”
     Fenner frowned. “You don't tell me that you put this joint together all on your own.”
     He wasn't sure whether her face had gone pale or whether it was a trick of the light. She said evenly, “I wanted somewhere to go when I was sick of all this. So I saved, bought the place, and no one knows about it.”
     Fenner grunted. “You know what's in that wallet?”
     “Well, I looked at it. It didn't mean anything to me.”
     “No? Well, it means a hell of a lot to Thayler. There are four receipts of money paid by Carlos to him. Two IOU's from Noolen for large sums, and particulars of five places where they land the Chinks.”
     Glorie shrugged. “I can't cash that at the bank,” she said indifferently.
     Fenner grinned. “Well, I can,” he said, getting to his feet. “Give me a big envelope, will you, baby?”
     She pointed to a little desk in the window recess. “Help yourself.”
     He went over and put the contents of the wallet in the envelope, scrawled a note and addressed the envelope to Miss Paula Dolan, Room 1156, Roosevelt Building, New York City.
     Glorie, who had been reading over his shoulder, said, “Who's the girl?” suspiciously.
     Fenner tapped the envelope with a long finger. “She's the dame who runs my office.
     “Why send it to her?”
     “Listen, baby, I'm playing this my way. If I liked I could turn this over to Hosskiss, the Federal man, and get him to crack down on those two guys. It would be enough for him to start an investigation. But Carlos has been tough with me, so I'm goin' to be tough with him. Maybe he'll get me before I get him, in that case the stuff gets turned over to the cops after all. Get it?”
     Glorie shrugged. “Men are either chasing women or getting themselves into a jam because of their pride,” she said. “I love a guy who takes on a mob single-handed to even things up. It's like the movies.”
     Fenner stood up. “Yeah?” he said. “Who said single-handed?” He went out on to the piazza. “I'm going to put this in the mail. I'll be right back, and then we can feed.”
     On his way back from mailing the letter he passed a telegraph office. He paused, thought, and then went in. He wrote a message out and took it to the desk.
     The clerk checked the message and looked at Fenner hard. The message ran:
      
     Dolan. Room 1156 Roosevelt Building, New York City.
Report progress by Grossett of Daley murder. Rush. D.F.
      
     Fenner paid, nodded and went out again. He walked fast back to the bungalow. Glorie was waiting for him with cocktails.
     Fenner said, “I'm in a hurry. Let's eat and drink at the same time.” Glorie rang the bell.
     “Where are you going?” she asked.
     Fenner smiled. “I'm going to see your husband,” he said gently. “It's time he forgot his shyness and started to play ball.”
     Glorie shrugged. “A guy like that won't help you much,” she said.
     While they ate, Fenner kept silent. After the meal he stood up. “Listen, baby, this is serious. Until these guys have been washed up you've got to stay here. On no account must you leave this joint. You know too much and you've put Thayler in a spot. Any one of the mob would slit your throat if they saw you. So stay put.”