12 Chinks and A Woman

     Paula settled herself more comfortably. When he was like this she knew it was better to let him have his way.

     “Unless this dame contacts me, the case will peter out. I've got no lead to go on. I don't know who she is. She might come from anywhere. All I know is she's got a sister who's interested in twelve Chinamen. If the dead Chink was one of them, there are only eleven for her to be interested in now. Why did she give me all that dough, and then take it on the lam?”

     “Suppose she saw someone she knew, got scared, and lost her head?” Paula put in softly.

     Fenner thought this one over. “Did you see anyone who might have given her a scare?”

     Paula shook her head. “You know what the Baltimore lobby's like that time of day.”

     “It's an idea.” Fenner got up and began walking up and down the gaily patterned carpet. “If that's how it went, then we've gotta stick around this telephone for her to ring back. Maybe she won't ring, but if she does, I want to know about it quick.”

     Paula groaned.

     “Yeah, I guess you'd better run home, pack a bag an' move in. You can sleep on the lounge.”

     Paula got to her feet. “You go home and sleep in your nice warm bed, I take it?”

     “Never mind what I do. I'll let you know where you can get me.”

     Paula put on her hat and coat. “If the office downstairs knows that I'm sleepin' here, they'll begin to think things.”

     “That's all right. They know I'm particular. It won't blow into a scandal.”

     Paula swept out, shutting the door with a firm click behind her. Fenner grinned and grabbed the telephone. He dialed a number.

     “D.A. office? Give me Grosset. Tell him Fenner wants him.”

     Grosset came through after a barrage of crackles. “Hello, Fenner. You changed your mind and want to talk?”

     Fenner grinned into the receiver. “Not just yet, pal,” he said. “I want you to talk instead. This Chink you found lyin' around. Did you find anythin' on him that might help?”

     Grosset laughed. “By God, Fenner! You've got a nerve. You don't expect information from me, do you?”

     Fenner said seriously: “Listen, Grosset, this case hasn't started to break yet. I got a hunch that when it does, someone's goin' to yell murder. I want to stop it before it starts.”

     “I warn you, Fenner, if you're holding back anything it's going to be just too bad for you. If something happens that I could've stopped, and I find you knew about it, I'm going to ride you.”

     Fenner shifted in his chair. “Skip it, Jughead,” he said impatiently. “You know I'm in my rights to keep my client covered. If you like to play ball an' give me the information, I'll turn it back to you with interest if I think trouble's startin'. How's that?”

     “You're a smooth bird,” Grosset said doubtfully. “Still, what I know won't be much good. We found nothing.”

     “How did they get him in?”

     “That wasn't so difficult. They brought him in a big laundry basket, up the trade entrance, and unpacked him in an empty office before shooting him into your room.”

     “Don't try to pull that one,” Fenner said. “They didn't bring him to me. They left him in the empty office.”—Grosset made a noise like tearing calico.

     “Did anyone see the guys who brought him?”

     “No.”

     “Well, thanks, pal. I'll do the same for you one day. Nothin' else? Nothin' that seemed odd to you?”

     “Plenty that seemed odd, but nothing that adds up. The guy had his throat cut and someone sewed it up for him. That's odd. Then he'd marks all over his back as if someone had beaten him up with a whip some time. That's odd too.”

     Fenner stiffened. “What was that? Someone had beaten this Chink up?”

     “That's right. He'd got weals all over him. That mean anything to you?”

     “Not just yet, it doesn't, but it helps,” Fenner said, and hung the receiver on its prong. He sat staring at the telephone for several minutes, his face blank, and a puzzled look clouding his eyes.

     Paula, coming back a couple of hours later, found him sitting slouched in his chair, his feet on the desk, tobacco ash all over his coat, and the same puzzled look in his eyes.

     She put a small suit-case on the lounge and took off her hat and coat. “Anything break?”

     Fenner shook his head. “If it wasn't for that dead Chink, I'd write it off as easy money. Those guys wouldn't have risked carting the stiff all the way up to my office unless they were mighty anxious to get me out of the way.”

     Paula opened her case and took out a book. “I've had my dinner,” she said, sitting in the padded chair near the desk. “I'm all set. If you want to be excused, you can go.”

     Fenner nodded. He got up and brushed himself down. “Okay,” he said. “I'll be back in a little while. If she rings, tell her I want to see ,her bad. Get her address and still feed her syrup. I want to get close to that dame.”

     “I was afraid of that,” Paula murmured, but Fenner went to the door without hearing her.