12 Chinks and A Woman

TWELVE CHINAMEN 

AND A WOMAN

JAMES HADLEY CHASE

     Only one man could satisfy Glorie Leadler's craving for love and affection. And though this golden-haired bit of feminine dynamite could have had a dozen men at her feet for the asking, it was a solitary Oriental who made her heart beat fast. When jealous rivals tore that midnight love from Glorie's arms, her over-heated emotions burst forth in a volcano of love-stricken vengeance that rocked Florida and left a mark on many men's souls.

      The characters of this novel are entirely fictional and any resemblance to actual persons or situations is accidental.

I

     FENNER opened one eye as Paula Dolan put some elegant curves and her fluffy head round his office door. He regarded her vaguely, and then settled himself more comfortably. His large feet rested on the snowy blotting-pad, and the swiveled desk chair inclined perilously at an angle of 45°. He said sleepily, “Run away, Dizzy, I'll play with you later. Right now I'm thinking.”

     Some more curves filtered through the half-open door, and Paula came to the desk. “Wake up, Morpheus,” she said; “you got a client.”

     Fenner groaned. “Tell him to go away. Tell him we've gone outta business. I gotta catch up some sleep sometimes, haven't I?”

     “What's your bed for?” Paula said impatiently.

     “Don't ask questions like that,” Fenner mumbled, settling himself further down in the chair.

     “Snap out of it, Dave,” Paula pleaded; “there's a passion flower waiting outside, and she looks as if she's got a load of grief to share with you.”

     Fenner opened an eye again. “What's she like?” he asked. “Maybe she's collecting for some charity.”

     Paula sat on the edge of the desk. “Sometimes I wonder why you keep that plate on your door. Don't you want to do business?”

     Fenner shook his head. “Not if I can help it,” he said. “We're in the dough, ain't we? Let's take it easy.”

     “You're passing up something pretty good. Still, if that's the way you feel . . .” Paula slid off the desk.

     “Hey, wait a minute.” Fenner sat up and pushed his hat off his eyes. “Is she really a passion flower?”

     Paula nodded. “I guess she's in trouble, Dave.”

     “Okay, okay, send her in, send her in.”

     Paula opened the door. She said, “Will you come in?”

     A voice said, “Thank you,” and a young woman came in. She walked slowly past Paula, looking at Fenner with large, smoky-blue eyes.

     She was a shade taller than average, and pliantly slender. Her legs were long, her hands and feet narrow, and her body was very erect. Her hair, curling under her prim little hat, was raven black. She wore a severe two-piece costume, and she looked very young and very scared.

     Paula gave her an encouraging smile and went out, shutting the door quietly behind her.

     Fenner took his feet off the desk and stood up. “Sit down ” he said, “and tell me what I can do for you.” He indicated the arm-chair by his desk.

     She shook her head. “I'd rather stand,” she said breathlessly. “I may not be here very long.”

     Fenner sat down again. “You can do just what you like here,” he said soothingly. “This places is anyone's home.”

     They remained looking at each other for a long minute. Then Fenner said, “You know you'd better sit down. You've got a lot to tell me an' you look tired.”

     He could see she wasn't scared of him, she was scared of something that he didn't know anything about. Her eyes were uneasy, and she held her high-breasted body as though she was ready to jump for the door.

     Again she shook her head. “I want you to find my sister,” she said breathlessly. “I'm so worried about my sister. What will it cost? I mean, what are your fees?”

     Fenner squinted at the inkwell by his hand. “Suppose you don't worry your head about the cost. Just relax an' tell me all about it,” he said. “Tell me who you are for a start.”

     The telephone jangled at his elbow. The effect on the girl was startling. She took two quick graceful steps away from the phone, and her eyes went cloudy and big.

     Fenner grinned at her. “I guess I get the same way,” he said quietly, pulling the receiver towards him. “When I fall asleep an' the bell goes off, I guess it scares the shirt right off my back.”

     She stood very tense by the door, watching him.

     Fenner said, “Excuse me a moment,” as he took off the receiver. “Yeah?” he said.

     There was a lot of crackling on the line. Then a man said with a very liquid accent: “Fenner?”

     “Yeah.”

     “Any moment now, Fenner, a girl is going to call in and see you. I want you to hold her until I get round to your office. I'm on my way now. Do you understand?”

     Fenner let his eyes fall on the girl, and he smiled at her reassuringly. “I don't get it,” he said to the telephone.

     “Well, listen, only get this right. A girl will come and see you about a story of her missing sister. Well, hold her for me. She's suffering from delusions. She got away from an asylum yesterday, and I know she's heading for your office. Just hold her for me.”

     Fenner pushed his hat on to the bridge of his nose. “Who in hell are you?” he said.