No Business of Mine

But she wasn’t listening. She went into the bedroom, shut the door. I listened, heard the key turn.

I sat on the chaise-longue, lit a cigarette. The palms of my hands were damp, the muscles in my thighs twitched. I was in a regular fever of excitement.

Five minutes crawled by, then another five. I could hear Netta moving about in the next room. Cigarette ash covered the carpet at my feet.

“Hey!” I called, my nerves getting the better of me. “Time’s getting on, Netta.”

“I’m coming,” she said; a moment later I heard the lock snap back and she came out.

She was wearing a light wool sweater, coal-black slacks and a fur coat over her arm. In her right hand she carried a fair-sized suitcase.

“Sorry to be so long,” she said, smiling, although her face was pale, her eyes anxious. “It’s only five minutes after nine. Do I look all right?”

I went over to her. “You look terrific,” I said, putting my arm around her waist.

She pushed me away almost roughly, shook her head, tried to keep the smile on her lips. It looked lopsided to me.

“Not now, Steve,” she said. “Let’s wait until we’re safe.”

“That’s all right, kid,” I said.

She’d pushed me off too late. I’d already felt what she had on under the sweater, around her waist.

“Come on, let’s go.”

I picked up my hat, glanced around the room to make sure we’d left nothing, crossed to the door.

Netta followed. I carried her bag. She carried the fur coat on her arm.

I opened the door.

Facing me, his eyes frosty, his mouth grim, stood Corridan.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Netta’s thin scream cut the air with the sharpness of a pencil grating on a slate.

“Hello, Corridan,” I said, soberly, stepping back, “so you’re in at the finish after all.”

He entered the room, closed the door. His pale eyes looked inquisitively at Netta. She shrank away from him, her hand to her face.

“I don’t know what you two are doing in here,” he said coldly, “but that can wait. I have a warrant for your arrest, Harmas. I’m sorry. I’ve warned you enough times. Bradley has charged you with stealing four rings and with assault. You’ll have to come along with me.”

I laughed mirthlessly. “That’s too bad,” I said. “Right now, Corridan, there’s more important things for you to worry about. Take a look at this young woman here. Don’t you want to be introduced?” I smiled at Netta who stared back at me, tense, her eyes glittering in a white face.

Corridan gave me a sharp glance. “Who is she?”

“Can’t you guess?” I said. “Look at her red hair. Can’t you smell the lilac perfume? Come on, Corridan, what the hell kind of detective are you?”

His face showed his astonishment.

“You mean it’s...?” he began.

I shook my head at Netta. “I’m sorry about this, kid,” I said. “But you can’t beat the rap now.” I turned back to Corridan. “Of course. Meet Netta Anne Scott Bradley.”

Netta recoiled. “Oh,” she gasped furiously, then: “You — you bastard!”

“Soft-pedal the language, honey,” I said. “Corridan blushes easily.”

Corridan stared at Netta, then at me.

“You mean this woman’s Netta Scott?” he demanded.

“Of course she is,” I said. “Or Mrs. Jack Bradley, known as Anne Scott, if you like that better. I told you all along she hadn’t committed suicide. Well, here she is as large as life, and I’ll show you something else that’ll interest you.”

I grabbed hold of Netta as she backed away.

Her face was grey-white like putty; her eyes burned with rage and fear. She struck at me, her fingers like claws. I grabbed her wrists, twisted her arms behind her, held her against me.

“Take it easy, kid,” I said, keeping clear of her vicious kicks. “Show the Inspector your nice line in underwear.” I caught hold of her sweater, peeled it over her head. Then tucking her, screaming and kicking, under my arm, I yanked down the zipper on her trousers, pulled in two directions.

Corridan gave an angry snort, stepped forward. “Stop it!” he exclaimed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing.”

“Skinning a rabbit,” I said, carrying Netta over to the chaise-longue and forcing her face down on it. I had a job to hold her, but I at last got my knee in her back and pinned her.

Corridan grabbed my arm, but I shook him off.

“Take a look at that belt,” I said, pointing to the heavy money belt that was strapped around Netta’s waist.

Corridan paused, muttered to himself, stood away.

I undid the buckle, jerked off the belt, stood back.

Netta lay on the chaise-longue, her fists clenched, her breath coming in great sobbing gasps.

With a quick shake I emptied the contents of the belt on the carpet at Corridan’s feet.

“There you are, brother,” I said dramatically. “Fifty thousand pounds’ worth of jewellery! Take a look. Allenby’s loot.”

Corridan gaped down at the heap of assorted rings, necklaces, bracelets on the carpet. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds gleamed like fireflies in the electric light.

“I’ll kill you for this!” Netta screamed, suddenly sitting up. She sprang to her feet, flung herself at me.

I shoved her off so roughly that she sprawled on the floor.