This Way for a Shroud

"I'll do something more than that in a moment."

"You won't!" She got off his lap. "You must go."

"Okay, but you're coming with me. I have my car at the end of the street. We'll go to Hank's Bar and have a sea-food dinner and champagne."

"No."

But there was no conviction in her voice.

"Go and put on your prettiest dress. I'll wait here."

"I don't think I should."

He got up.

"Do you want me to carry you upstairs?"

"You'll do nothing of the kind!"

"That's fighting talk, baby."

He swept her off her feet, holding her against him as she struggled and kicked.

"Let me down this minute!"

"We're going upstairs."

He carried her into the hall and started up the stairs.

"Louis! You're not to! I'll get angry. You must put me down!"

"All in good time."

He reached the head of the stairs, spotted a light coming under a door, pushed the door open with his foot and walked into a big, airy bedroom with twin beds, one of which was cluttered up with dresses, coats and underwear.

He set her down, his arm still around her, holding her against him.

"You get out of here!" Janey said angrily. "I'm not standing any more of this nonsense!"

Seigel had trouble in keeping his temper. He never allowed his women to talk to him like this, but he decided it was too soon to get tough with her.

"I must always keep you angry, baby," he said softly. "You look even prettier when your eyes flash like that."

Janey softened a little. She never could resist a compliment.

"Now, please, Louis, go downstairs. If Paul comes back . . ."

Seigel sat on the bed.

"Where is he?"

"That's none of your business. Now run along and wait for me downstairs."

"Don't you know, then?"

"Of course I know, but it's none of your business."

Seigel grinned.

"Seriously, is he likely to come back tonight?"

"I don't suppose he is, but I'm not taking any chances. Now please go downstairs."

He got up and went over to her, putting his arms round her.

"Kiss me, Janey."

She hesitated, then lifted her face to his. He crushed his mouth down on hers, and for a long moment he held her like that, his body hard against hers, his arms tight in the small of her back.

She tried to resist him, but he held her easily, and slowly he felt the resistance go out of her.

"Oh, Louis . . ." she sighed, leaning against him.

He manoeuvred her over to the bed, and she shook her head, but the resistance had gone completely out of her. She lay flat on her back, looking up at him, her eyes cloudy, her face flushed. "We shouldn't . . ."

"Where is he, Janey?" he asked, bending over her.

"Where is who?" she asked, frowning.

"Your husband. Where is he?"

The cloudy look went out of her eyes.

"Why are you so interested?" Then she sat up abruptly, pushing him away. "Of course! What a fool I am! Of course!"

He eyed her warily.

"Of course – what?"

"So that's why you're suddenly interested in me again," she said, her eyes furious. "You want to know where that Coleman woman is, don't you? Of course! Paul said you were one of Maurer's thugs. What a stupid fool I've been!" She jumped to her feet. "Get out! Get out before I call the police!"

Seigel grinned at her. His smooth charm had gone, and the cold, ferocious expression in his eyes frightened her.

"Take it easy, baby," he said softly. "Don't start anything you can't finish. You know where he is, and you're going to tell me, or I'll damn well beat it out of you! Where is he?"

Janey backed away, quaking.

"I don't know. Get out!"

Seigel stood up.

As Janey opened her mouth to scream he crossed over to her with two quick strides and hit her across her face with his open hand so heavily that she went down on hands and knees, momentarily stunned.

He bent over her, dragged her upright and holding her by her elbows he shook her, rocketing her head backwards and forwards. Then he gave her a violent shove that sent her reeling across the room to fall flat on the bed. She lay gasping, feeling as if she had been caught by the blast of a bomb.

He went over to her, knelt on the bed, caught her wrist and turned her over on her face. He twisted her arm, driving it up and screwing her wrist as he did so.

She screamed frantically, but his left hand pushed her face into the bedclothes, drowning her scream.

"Where is he?"

Janey wasn't cut out for a heroine. The pain in her arm made her feel faint. She began to cry.

He wrenched her arm back again.

"No! Don't! I'll tell you!" Janey screamed.

"Well, come on, damn you! Where is he?"

"I don't know where he is, but I've got his telephone number," Janey sobbed.

He turned her and stared down at her white stricken face.

"What is it?"

"Barwood 99780."

"If you're lying it'll be the last lie you tell, baby!"

"Leave me alone," she sobbed. "Oh, you've hurt me, you beast!"

"We'll go downstairs and you'll call that number. You'll talk to him. Tell him you're lonely: tell him anything so long as I know for sure he's there."

"I'll do it," Janey gasped, so eagerly Seigel knew at once she had been telling the truth.

"Come on," he snarled, jerking her to her feet.