12 Chinks and A Woman

     It took a great effort for him to get her upstairs. She was heavy, and he was trembling by the time he got her on the bed. He put her down gently, then snatched up the telephone. Nightingale's number was on the address pad. He dialed, standing with his eyes on Curly.

     Nightingale said primly, “This is the Funeral Parlor.”

     Fenner said, “Come over here quick. They've got Curly.” He hung up and went over to the bed.

     Curly opened her eyes. When she saw Fenner she held one of her hands out to him. “Serves me right for helping a dick,” she said faintly.

     Fenner didn't dare pull the knife out. He held her so that she didn't have any weight on the handle. He said, “You take it easy, baby; I'm gettin' help.”

     Curly twisted. “It's going to come a lot too late,” she said, then her face crumpled and she began to cry.

     Fenner said, “Was it Carlos?”

     Curly didn't say anything. Blood stained her chin.

     Fenner said, “Give me a lead. Don't be a mug and let him get away with it. He'll only think you're a sucker.”

     Curly said, “It was one of his Cubans. He jumped me before I could scream.”

     Fenner saw she was going very white. He said quickly: “Why does Thayler carry your photo around with him? What's he to you?”

     Curly whispered faintly, “He's my husband.” Then she began to bleed from her mouth. Fenner saw she was going fast. He put his hand round her back and pulled the knife out. Her eyelids fell back and she gave a little cry. Then she said, “That's a lot better.”

     He laid her down on the bed. “I'll even this up for you. Carlos'll pay for this,” he said.

     She sneered. “Okay, brave little man,” she whispered. “Fix Carlos if you like, but it won't do me any good.”

     Fenner remembered seeing some Scotch, and he went over to the wall cupboard and poured out two fingers. He made her swallow it.

     She gasped. “That's right. Keep me alive until I've told you all you want to know”—bitterly.

     Fenner took her hands. “You can put a lot straight. Is Thayler in with Carlos?”

     She hesitated, then moved her head a little. “He's in it all right,” she said faintly. “He's been a bad guy, and I don't owe him anything.”

     “What's his angle?”

     “Runs the labor syndicate.” She shut her eyes. Then she said, “Don't ask me anything else, will you? I'm frightened.”

     Fenner felt completely helpless. Her skin now looked like waxed paper. Only a red bubble at her lips showed that she still lived. She opened her eyes once again and said with an effort, “God, that was the best thing that's happened to me in years. With you, I mean.” Then she shut her eyes.

     Someone came blundering up the stairs. Fenner ran to the door. Nightingale came in. His face was glistening. He pushed past Fenner and ran across to the bed. He was too late. Curly had died just before he came in.

     Fenner stepped outside the room and pulled the door to. As he walked quickly down the passage a low wail came from behind the door. It was Nightingale.

     The manager of the Haworth Hotel came round the desk quickly when he saw Fenner. “What is all this?” he spluttered, his voice trembling with indignation. “What do you think this joint is?”

     “Don't ask me,” Fenner said, pushing past him. “If it's a joint, where are the girls?”

     The manager ran to keep up with him. “Mr. Ross, I insist! I cannot have these disturbances!”

     Fenner paused. “What are you yapping about?”

     “My people are afraid to go up on floor three. There's a rough hoodlum sitting up there, not letting anyone pass. I've threatened him with the police, but he says you told him td stick around. What does it mean?”

     Fenner said, “Get my check ready. I'm moving out.” He went upstairs quickly, leaving the manager protesting. There was no sign of Bugsey when he reached his room, and he kicked open the door and went in.

     Glorie was sitting up in bed and Bugsey was sitting close to her. They were playing cards. Bugsey wore a pair of white shorts and his hat. Sweat was running down his fat back.

     Fenner stood still. “What's goin' on here?”

     Glorie threw down her cards. “Where have you been?” she said. “What's happened to you?”

     Fenner came in and shut the door. “Plenty,” he said. Then, turning to Bugsey, “What you think you're doing—a strip tease?”

     Glorie said, “He was playing for my nightie, but I beat him to it.”

     Bugsey grabbed his trousers. “You sure came in at the right moment,” he said feverishly. “That dame's a mean card player.”

     Fenner wasn't in the mood for laughter. He said, “Get out quick and get a closed car. Park it at the rear of the building in a quarter of an hour.”

     Bugsey struggled into his clothes. “Looks like someone's been pushin' you around.”

     “Never mind about me,” Fenner said coldly; “this is urgent.”

     Bugsey went out, pulling his coat on. Fenner said, “Can you get up, do you think?”

     Glorie threw the sheet off and slid to the floor. “I only stayed in bed because it upset poor little Bugsey,” she said. “What's been happening?”

     Fenner dug himself out a new suit and changed. “Don't stand there gaping,” he snapped. “Get dressed. We're moving out of this joint fast.”