12 Chinks and A Woman

     There was more crackling on the wire. “I'll explain when I get around. I'm coming right away. Your fee will be paid on a generous scale if you do this.”

     Fenner said, “Okay, you come on up.”

     The girl said, “Did he say I was crazy?” The hand that wasn't holding her bag fluttered up and down the seam of her skirt.

     Fenner put the receiver on its prong. He nodded shortly.

     She shut her eyes for a second, then her lids rolled back like a doll's that has been sat up suddenly. She said desperately, “It's so difficult not to believe him.” Then she put her bag on the desk, stripped off her gloves and hastily pulled off her coat. Fenner sat quite still, his hand on the telephone, watching her. She gave a little sob and then, with trembling fingers, she began to undo her shirt blouse.

     Fenner shifted. “You don't have to do this,” he said uneasily. “I'm interested in your case without any act.”

     Once again she caught her breath in a sob and turned her back on him. She pulled the blouse off. Fenner's hand strayed to the bell. Maybe this dame was nutty, and was going to hold him up for assault. Then he stiffened and took his hand away. Her back was covered with weals. The thin red streaks that crisscrossed on the white flesh made a strange and terrifying pattern. She pulled on the blouse again, fastened the buttons, and then put on her coat. Then she turned round and looked at Fenner with her eyes bigger than ever.

     “Now do you believe I'm in trouble?” she said.

     Fenner shook his head. “You didn't have to do that,” he said. “You came to me for help. Okay, why look further? You don't have to be scared.”

     She stood there, torturing her lower lip with her glistening teeth. Then she opened her bag and took out a roll of notes. She put them on the desk. “Will that do as a retainer?” she said.

     Fenner touched the roll with a thick finger. Without actually counting the money he couldn't be sure, but he was willing to bet that there was at least six grand in that roll. He got up swiftly, picked up the roll, and stepped to the door. “Stay here,” he said, and went outside into the outer office.

     Paula was sitting at the typewriter, her hands in her lap and her eyes expectant.

     Fenner said, “Grab your hat quick, an' take this baby to the Baltimore Hotel. Get her a room there and tell her to lock herself in. Take this roll and when you've fixed her, sock it in the bank. Find out all you can about her. Tell her I'll look after her. Give her the you're-in-good-hands dope: Feed her a good line of syrup. She's got the jitters; she's in trouble and she's still young enough to need a mother.”

     He went back to the office. “What's your name?” he said.

     The girl beat her hands together. “Do get me away from here,” she said.

     Fenner put his hand on her arm. “I'm sending you out with my secretary. She'll look after you. There's a guy on his way up who's interested in you. I'll take care of him. What's your name?”

     “Marian Daley,” she said. Then she swallowed and went on hurriedly: “Where shall I go?”

     Paula came in, pulling on her gloves. Fenner nodded. “Go with Miss Dolan,” he said. “Go down the back way. You'll be okay now. Don't get scared any more.”

     Marian Daley gave him a timid little smile. “I'm glad I came to you,” she said. “You see, I'm in a lot of trouble. It's my sister as well. What can she want with twelve Chinamen?”

     Fenner blew out his cheeks. “Search me,” he said, leading her to the door. Maybe she likes Chinamen. Some people do, you know. Just take it easy until I see you tonight.”

     He stepped into the passage and watched them walk to the elevator. When the cage shot out of sight he wandered back into the office. He shut the door softly behind him and went over to his desk. He opened the top drawer and took out a .38 police special. He was playing hunches. He put the gun inside his coat and sat down behind the desk. He put his feet up again and shut his eyes.

     He sat like that for ten minutes or so, his mind busy with theories. Three things intrigued him. The six thousand dollars, the weals on the girl's back and the twelve Chinamen. Why all that dough as a retainer? Why didn't she just tell him that someone had beaten her up instead of stripping? Why tell him twelve Chinamen? Why not just say, 'What did she want with Chinamen'? Why twelve? He shifted in his seat. Then there was the guy on the phone. Was she fresh from a nut farm after all? He doubted it; She had been badly scared, but she was normal enough. He opened his eyes and glanced at the small chromium clock on his desk. She had been gone twelve minutes. How long would this guy take to come up?