12 Chinks and A Woman

     Her eyes went dull and she stood up. She put on the pajamas slowly and wandered out of the room. She left the door wide open. Fenner got out of bed, kicked the door shut and went into the bathroom. He thought, “What a hell of a note to start the morning on.” After a shower he felt better and he rang for coffee. He was dressed when the waiter brought up the coffee.

     Two cups put him right and he went along to Glorie's room. She was dressed. Her black evening dress looked out of place in the sunlight. She was sitting by the window looking into the street.

     Fenner wandered in and shut the door softly behind him. He said, “What are you goin' to do?”

     Glorie turned and smiled at him. It was quite a shock. Her eyes were wide, candid and friendly. She said, “What can I do?”

     He leaned against the wall and stared at her thoughtfully.

     He said at last, “You're difficult to understand. I thought I was goin' to have a lot of trouble with you. I see I was wrong.”

     She swiveled round, her back to the window. “I still think you're cute,” she said. Then she added, “I'm going to grow on you.”

     Fenner's eyes shifted past her, looked into the street. A black sedan was standing below. He'd seen that car before. Even as he started forward a man's arm came through the curtained window. The sun reflected on a gun. That was the flash picture Fenner had, a picture that paralyzed him, making him seconds late. He heard a faint phut as Glorie screamed. Not a loud scream, soft, hoarse. Then she bent at the knees. Before Fenner could do anything about it, she slid to the floor.

     The sedan went away fast. It all happened at such an incredible speed that no one seemed conscious of it in the street. Fenner leaned out of the window, saw the sedan swing round the corner and then disappear.

     He stepped away and knelt down swiftly. As he turned Glorie, his right hand felt a wet patch on her side, just above her hip. She'd gone very white, but she was breathing. Fenner reached out and grabbed a cushion from a near-by chair and put it under her head. Then he ran into the bathroom. He filled a hand bowl with water, snatched up a small first-aid case he always kept with him and went back.

     She watched him come across the room, her eyes wide with fear. She said, “I can't feel anything. Am I badly hurt?”

     Fenner knelt down. “Take it easy,” he said. “We'll look an' see.”

     He opened the case and selected a scalpel. “I guess your dress'll have to go,” he said, cutting the silk carefully.

     She said, “I'm glad I was with you,” and began to cry.

     Fenner cut the top of her girdle. “Keep yourself in hand,” he said, working quickly. “The shock's bound to tilt you sideways.” He examined the wound, and then grinned. “Well, I'll be damned. It's only a nick. The slug's just made a groove in your side.”

     She said, “I was scared that I was going to die.”

     “So was I.” Fenner fixed the wound with experienced fingers. “All the same, that was nice shooting. That guy was some sniper.”

     Glorie said in a small voice, “It hurts now.”

     “Sure, it's bound to hurt.” Fenner straightened and looked down at her. “You'll have to lie up for a few days. Maybe that'll keep you out of mischief. I'm goin' to take you home. Where do you live?”

     She looked away from him, her face suddenly blank, then she gave a little giggle that finished on a gasp of pain. “I haven't got a home,” she said, putting her hand on her side.

     “Where did you live before you threw in with Thayler?”

     She looked at him sharply, then looked away again. “I didn't throw in with Harry—”

     Fenner knelt beside her. “You're a rotten liar,” he said. “You said last night you and Thayler were doing a trip to New York together. Then, before that, you said you didn't know him very well. Now you say you didn't throw in with him. Give it to me straight.”

     She said jerkily, “I believe you're a detective.”

     Fenner snorted. “Listen, redhead, you can't lie about floors all day. I've gotta get you somewhere. Either you tell me where you live, or else I'll send for an ambulance.”

     She said, “I want to stay here.”

     Fenner smiled unpleasantly. “I'm not going to be your nursemaid,” he said. “I gotta lot to do.”

     She said, “I'm safer here.”

     Fenner paused, thought, and then said, “I see.” He went over to the bed and pulled the sheet down. Then he picked her up very gently, sitting her in a chair. She chewed her lip while he did this. He took the scalpel and cut the dress down each side. One side of her white shorts showed very red.

     She said, “What a mess,” and went so white he thought she was going to faint.

     “Hold it,” he said sharply, and stood her up. “Get your pants off,” he said; “it ain't as if you and I are exactly strangers.”

     She put her face against his and nibbled his ear. “You're cute,” she mumbled in his neck.

     He jerked his head away. “For God's sake, cut that!” When she had stepped out of the shorts, he sat her down and wiped the blood on her thigh, then he carried her over to the bed and put her under the sheet. He was glad to get her covered up.