12 Chinks and A Woman

     She lay with her red-gold head on the pillow and looked up at him. She looked suddenly very young and defenseless. She said, “I want to whisper.”

     Fenner shook his head. “Try another one. That's got whiskers on it.”

     She reached up her two arms. “Please!”

     He bent his head and she kissed him. Her lips felt very soft against his. It was just a youthful kiss, and Fenner quite liked it. He straightened and rumpled his hair. “Take it easy,” he said. “I'm going to fix things.” He pulled up the sheet to her chin, cleared her clothes and the rest of the mess into the bathroom and went downstairs.

     The hotel manager looked at him with an odd expression. Fenner felt a little embarrassed. He said, “My girl friend's run into a little accident. She'll have to stay in bed. I want you to send someone out an' get her a sleeping suit an' whatever else she wants. Put it all on the bill.”

     The manager said quite seriously, “This is a little irregular—”

     Fenner interrupted him, “I'll say it's irregular,” he said shortly, “but it ain't so irregular that it calls for a fan dance from you, so snap to it.”

     He went over to a telephone booth and dialed a number. A hoarse voice floated over the wire.

     “Bugsey?” Fenner asked. “Listen, Bugsey. I gotta job for you. Yeah, just the job you've been wantin'. Come on over to my dump an' bring a rod.”

     He went into the bar and ordered two fingers of rye. He felt he wanted a drink after all the excitement. While he waited for Bugsey, he remembered something. He took out his wallet. When he opened the wallet, a frown came to his eyes. He said, “That's a very funny thing.”

     His money and his papers were all on the right-hand side of the wallet, and he knew that yesterday they had been some on the right and some on the left. He went through the papers carefully and counted his money. Nothing was missing so far as he could remember. Then he said, “Well, well,” because Curly's photo wasn't there any more. He went through the wallet more carefully, but it wasn't there. He put the wallet back in his pocket thoughtfully and finished the rye.

     Unless someone had come in while he slept, someone other than Glorie, he knew he hadn't far to look for the photo. He wasn't going to get away as Ross any more. She or whoever it was must have seen his license papers. He lit a cigarette and waited for Bugsey. He knew it would be a waste of time to try and get anything out of Glorie right now. She'd just pretend she felt bad, and that would be the end of that.

     Bugsey came into the bar with a look on his face a dog gets when he thinks there's a bone around. He was wearing a stained suit of grey herringbone, and a greasy light felt hat. A red flower decorated his buttonhole. Fenner found himself wondering if it had grown there.

     Bugsey wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at the row of bottles with a smile of expectation. Fenner bought him a large beer and took him to the far end of the room. When they had settled, Fenner said, “Listen, pal, how would you like to work for me?”

     Bugsey's gooseberry eyes opened. “I don't get it,” he said.

     I gotta little job you might like to handle. Nothing very much, but it's worth fifty bucks. If you an' me get along, I might put you on my pay-roll, but it'd mean kissin' good-bye to Carlos.”

     “Ain't you workin' for Carlos no more?”

     Fenner shook his head. “Naw,” he said, “I don't like his game. It stinks.”

     Bugsey scratched his head. “Carlos won't like it,” he said uneasily.

     “Never mind Carlos,” Fenner said. “If I don't wantta play, I don't.”

     Bugsey wagged his head. “How do I earn fifty bucks?” he asked eagerly.

     “This is a sweet job that means no work and not much worry. You remember the jane on the Nancy W? The one with the swell stems and fancy front?”

     Bugsey passed his tongue over his lips. “Am I likely to forget her?” he said. “What a number!”

     “She's upstairs in my bed, right now.”

     Bugsey slopped his beer. His moonlike face showed his surprise. He said, “In your bed?”

     Fenner nodded.

     “What a guy!” Bugsey was almost overwhelmed with admiration. “I bet it cost you a heap of jack to get her in there.”

     Fenner shook his head again. “Fact was, Bugsey, I had to fight to keep her out. She's hot for me.”

     Bugsey put the beer down on the table with a click. “You ain't kiddin'?” he said. “You wouldn't tell a lie about a thing like that?”

     “No, she's up there all right.”

     Bugsey brooded, then he said in a hoarse, confidential whisper, “When she, you know, does she bite?”

     Fenner thought it was time to get down to business. “Never mind about the details, pal,” he said. “Some guy pulled a rod on this dame and took a little meat out of her side. This guy might look in again and make a better job. I want you to sit around with a rod an' see he doesn't.”

     Bugsey said in a faint, strangled voice, “An' you're payin' fifty bucks for a job like that?”

     Fenner looked startled. “Ain't it enough?”

     “That's a laugh. I'd do it for nothin'. Maybe she'd go for me.”