12 Chinks and A Woman

     Bugsey sighed. “You'd wantta heap of jack to rate a dame like that.”

     “Thayler? What's his line?” Fenner went on.

     The bartender shrugged. “Just spends dough. One of these rich playboys, I guess.”

     “Does he live around here?”

     “A gay don't want to live around here when he's got a boat like that, does he?”

     Fenner lowered half the gin sling. “Who's the dame?”

     The barman grinned. “I can't keep up with them,” he said. “I guess that guy's got a contract with the authorities to test them.”

     Bugsey said, “That's a swell job. Maybe he could do with a little help.”

     Fenner said, “Where can you meet a guy like that?”

     “Meet him? He gets about. He's out a lot at Noolen's Casino.”

     “So, Noolen's got a casino, eh?” Fenner said, looking at Bugsey.

     Bugsey sneered. “Noolen's the south-end of a horse.”

     Fenner put his glass down on the counter. “I'm beginning to believe that,” he said, and putting his hand under Bugsey's arm, he led him into the sunlight.

     Noolen's casino was close to Hemingway's house at the corner of Olivia and Whitehead.

     Fenner stopped his cab to get a look at the Hemingway house. Then he went on to the casino.

     It was a hot evening, full of noise and river smells. The casino stood back in a landscape garden, with a half circular drive leading to the big double front doors. Double porches and arched windows, fitted with yellow slatted shutters, gave the big house a touch of distinction.

     A lot of cars crawled up the drive, unloaded, and crawled on back to the street.

     Fenner paid off his cab and wandered up the long flight of broad stone steps. The front doors were open, and he could see a brilliantly lighted lobby as he mounted.

     There were two men standing by the door who looked at him hard. He put them down as Noolen's muscle men. He went on through the lobby into a big room where two tables were in action. He wandered around, keeping his eyes open and hoping to find the girl on the boat.

     He hadn't been in the room five minutes before a short Cuban in evening dress came up to him. “Mr. Ross?” he said politely.

     “What of it?” Fenner said.

     “Will you come into the office a moment?”

     Fenner smiled. “I'm here to enjoy myself,” he said. “What do I want in your office?”

     The two men who had been standing at the door suddenly moved through the crowd and stood each side of him. They smiled at him, but the smile didn't reach their eyes.

     The Cuban said softly, “You'd better come, I think.”

     Fenner shrugged and moved with him. They crossed the room, went out into the lobby and into a small room on the left.

     Noolen was walking up and down, his head on his chest, and a big cigar clamped between his teeth. He glanced up at Fenner as he came in.

     The Cuban shut the door, leaving the other two men outside.

     Fenner thought Noolen looked in better shape. He seemed cleaner and his tuxedo suited him.

     Noolen said, “What are you doin' here?”

     “This is public, ain't it? What's bitin' you?”

     “We don't have any of Carlos' mob in here.”

     Fenner laughed. He went over and sat in a big leather arm-chair. “Don't be a mug,” he said.

     Noolen stood very still. “You better get out an' stay out. . . .”

     Fenner raised his hand. “Send the monkey away—I want to talk to you.”

     Noolen hesitated, then he gave a sign to the Cuban, who went out.

     “You're not going to get anywhere being tough with Carlos,” Fenner said, stretching his long legs. “Why don't you get wise to yourself?”

     “What's your game?” Noolen said. “There's something about you I don't trust...”

     Fenner said seriously, “I don't know. But string along. If my bet comes right, I may have to bust this town wide open. To do it, I might want you. I don't like Carlos and I don't like his racket. I think I'll wash him up.”

     Noolen laughed. “You're crazy, Carlos's big enough to smear you.”

     Fenner nodded. “That's how it looks, but that isn't the way it'll pan out You'd like to see that guy go, wouldn't you?”

     Noolen hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said; “but he ain't goin' in my lifetime.”

     Fenner studied the toes of his shoes. “You got a mob if I wanted one?”

     Noolen came and sat down. “I've gotta mob,” he said cautiously, “but they're not in the same class. They'd be scared to start anything.”

     Fenner grinned. “Not when Carlos starts to slip. That's when your mob's got to go to work.”

     Noolen clasped his hands. There was a long silence while he brooded. Then he said, “You're playin' a tricky game. Suppose I have a little talk with Carlos.”

     Fenner shrugged. “Why should you? You've got everything to gain by just sittin' on your can waitin' for me to clean up the town.”

     “Okay. Then go ahead. I'll come in when I see you gettin' somewhere. Don't think you're going to clean my territory, because you ain't. One move from you I don't like, an' I'll clamp down on you.”

     Fenner got to his feet. “We won't worry about that for a little while,” he said. “There'll be plenty of time to take care of that angle later.”

     Noolen looked up at him suspiciously. “I don't trust you, Ross, you're too cagey.”

     “Who's Thayler?” Fenner asked abruptly.