Well Now My Pretty

At half past seven, he turned on the radio to catch the news. It was then he learned of Wash's death and he grimaced. He hesitated whether to tell Chandler, but decided to let him sleep. Once again the descriptions of the three men were broadcast and, snarling, Mish turned off the radio. They were in a hell of a jam, he thought. Where was Maisky? Mish was sure he couldn't have got past the road blocks. The rat ! he thought, clenching his big fists. It was safe to bet that Maisky had this planned from the start and had found himself a safe hide-out.

It was nearly half past ten when a shabby Mini-Cooper pulled up outside the bungalow.

Both Chandler and Mish had been waiting at the window, screened by dirty curtains, for its arrival with growing impatience.

As Lolita got out of the car, Mish said, "Is that her?"

"Yes," Chandler said and got to his feet. "You go into the bedroom, Mish. I have to talk to her. This could be tricky."

Mish regarded the girl, who was wearing skin-tight yellow Capri pants and a scarlet halter. Her sun-tanned skin, her shape, her glistening black hair and her lean, alert face made an impact on him. Some bim! he thought, as he moved quickly down the passage and into the bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Chandler went to the front door and opened it as Lolita started up the path. She paused, looked searchingly at him, then frowned. Chandler wasn't looking at his best. Unshaven, sweaty, his face tight with tension, he presented a picture that slightly frightened the girl.

"Hello, baby," he said. "Gee! Am I glad to see you!" He came down the path and joined her, putting his big hands on her arms.

"Sorry I look such a mess . . . no nothing in this goddam place. Did you bring the stuff I asked for?"

She looked up at him.

"It's all in the car. What's going on, Jess? Is this your place?"

"Let's get the stuff inside, then we can talk," Chandler said. "Look, baby, will you put the car in the garage?"

He walked to the car and took from it two loaded shopping baskets.

"I'll leave it here, Jess. I can't stay long."

"Better get it out of sight, baby," Chandler said, an edge to his voice. "I'll explain in a moment," and he went into the bungalow, carrying the baskets.

She hesitated, then shrugged. She got in the car and drove it into the garage. She got out, closed the garage doors and walked quickly to the entrance to the bungalow. She entered.

"I'm in here, baby," Chandler said, from the kitchen.

She joined him.

He was busy unpacking the baskets.

"Sweetheart, will you make coffee . . . I'll flip my lid if I don't have some coffee." He found a safety razor and brushless cream. "I'll get shaved. Then we can talk."

"All right, Jess," she said and put on the kettle.

When Chandler had shaved, he went into the bedroom and gave Mish the razor and cream.

"I'll call you in five minutes," he said softly, then returned to the kitchen.

Lolita was pouring coffee into a cup.

"That smells good," Chandler said, taking the cup. He spooned in sugar. "No, I'll take it black." He sipped, sighed, sipped again, then picked up a pack of cigarettes she had brought, broke it open and lit a cigarette.

"What's going on, Jess?"

"Cop trouble," Chandler said quietly. "Me and a pal of mine are in one hell of a jam. Don't ask questions, baby. The less you know the safer for you."

She poured herself a cup of coffee, then, resting her hips against the edge of the table, she asked, "Is it the Casino job?"

Chandler hesitated, then nodded.

"That's it. It turned sour. The guy who planned it ratted on us. Did you pick it up on the radio?"

"Yes. I guessed it was you." She shook her head. "What are you going to do?"

"You guessed it was me . . . and yet you came?" Chandler said, studying her.

"I was born stupid," she said, giving him a half-smile. "I guess I am a little crazy about you, Jess."

He put down his cup of coffee and went to her, putting his arms around her, drawing her close to him.

"You won't regret it," he said, and kissed her.

She clung to him for a long moment, then pushed him gently away.

"What does that mean, Jess? Don't let your coffee get cold."

"There's still a chance we could find this guy who ratted on us," Chandler said. "He has the money. If we find him, then you and I will go off and take a look at the world together."

"Yes?" She smiled at him. "All my life I've been dreaming about looking at the world. Don't let's count on it, You hungry?"

"I know I am," Mish said from the door.

She looked swiftly at him, then at Chandler.

"This is my pal, Mish Collins," Chandler said. "Come in and have some coffee . . . it's good. This is Lolita."

Mish offered a damp hand.

"I always said Jess could pick 'em," he said, shaking hands. "You said something about being hungry?"

"Just the two of you?" Lolita asked, smiling at Mish.

"Just the two of us."

"Ham and eggs?"

"Oh, boy!"

"Give me some room. Suppose you leave me to fix it? I won't be long."

"Sure," Chandler said and moved with Mish, a cup of coffee in his hand, out of the kitchen and into the sitting-room.