12 Chinks and A Woman

     The Cuban said, “Maybe you'd better go, too,” and turned away.

     Fenner stood thinking, then he snapped his fingers and left. He ran through the lobby, out into the black night. A cab shot up to the entrance and the driver swung the door open. Fenner said, “Waterfront, fast,” and climbed into the cab.

     Although the cab went fast, Thayler was already on board the Nancy W. when Fenner arrived. Fenner saw the light in the cabin flash as he paid off the cab driver. He looked hastily up and down the deserted waterfront, then ran along the jetty and climbed on board. Moving quietly, he reached the cabin. By lying full length, he could look down through the glass panel which was half open.

     Glorie was standing in the middle of the cabin, rubbing her wrist and looking at Thayler, who was leaning against the door. “It's time we had a showdown,” he said. His voice came quite clearly to Fenner. “I've been a sucker long enough.”

     Glorie turned her back on him. “Once I get out of here,” she said unevenly, “I never want to see you again.”

     Thayler went over to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. His hands shook so that the liquor slopped on the polished surface. “I've done a hell of a lot for you,” he said. “It's always the same. I know you're like that, but can't you try? That's what gets me, you don't even try.”

     Glorie moved round the room. She reminded Fenner of a caged animal.

     “I'm sorry for you,” Thayler said.

     She spun round. “You're crazy. Do you think your sorrow means anything to me?”

     “No one's sorrow has ever meant anything to you. You haven't any feeling, anyway.”

     “Yes, I have.”

     “Not that sort of feeling.”

     Thayler held the glass in his hand very tightly. Fenner could see his knuckles were white. “After this, I'm through with you. I'm not going to have another evening like this one.”

     Glorie laughed suddenly. “I'm sending you away, not you sending me. Shall I tell you why?”

     “I'm sick of hearing it. I know it backwards.”

     Glorie said spitefully, “No, you don't. It's because you're no good. You never were any good and I waited and waited, hoping you'd get used to me, because you looked good. But you're a flop. You don't know anything about it. You only think you do.”

     Thayler put his glass carefully on the table. He walked up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. His face was very white. “You know that's a damn lie, don't you?” he said.

     She flung his hands off. “You're hoping it's a lie, aren't you? You want to save some of your silly little pride.”

     He moved forward and, reaching out, he ripped the front of her dress down to her waist. She threw up her hands. “What are you going to do?” she said, her voice suddenly hoarse. “You going to beat me again? That's all you're any good at, isn't it? You can't take a woman like any other man, you've got to do other things.”

     Fenner pushed his hat to the back of his head and moved a little further forward.

     Thayler stood very still, looking at Glorie. Fenner could see he was trembling. He said at last in a low, jerky voice, “I think I'll kill you for that.”

     She shook her head. “Try loving me instead,” she said. Thayler clenched his fists and took a step towards her. “Get out!” he said wildly. “Get out!”

     She put her hand to her waist, loosened a catch and dropped the dress around her feet. She walked across the cabin to the big divan in the corner of room. She sat down, and crossing her leg, undid the suspender and rolled down her stocking. She looked up at him. “Show me I'm wrong ” she said, and giggled.

     Fenner drew away from the cabin roof and stood up.

     “Well, I'll be damned,” he said unsteadily, and turning, he left the boat and headed for his hotel.

III

     Fenner was in Nightingale's workroom, watching the little man staining a box, when Reiger came in.

     Reiger said, “We got a job for you. I'll pick you up here at eight o'clock.”

     Fenner lit a cigarette. “What's the job?”

     “You'll see.”

     “Listen, Reiger. You ain't gettin' that way with me. Either you work with me or to hell with it. What's the job?”

     Reiger scratched the side of his mouth with his thumbnail. “We've got a consignment of Chinks. We're bringin' them over tonight.”

     Fenner said, “Okay, I'll be here.”

     Reiger went out.

     “Friendly guy that,” Fenner said to Nightingale. “Somehow, I don't think he an' I hit it off.”

     Nightingale looked worried. “You're handlin' that guy wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “He's mean. You'd better watch him.”

     Fenner drummed on the top of a coffin-lid with his fingers. “I'll watch him all right,” he said. He nodded to Nightingale and went downstairs. Curly was sitting at the desk writing in a ledger. She looked up hopefully as he went past.

     Fenner paused. “Hyah, baby,” he said. “That's a nice face and figure you're wearin' this mornin'.”

     Curly opened her big eyes. “Gee!” she said. “I don't get much of that syrup.”

     “Never mind. It comes as a nice surprise when you do.”

     Curly nibbled the top of her pen. She looked at him with thoughtful eyes.

     “You're in this now?” she said.

     Fenner nodded.

     “Seen Pio?”

     “I've seen him.”