James Chase - 12 Chinks and a Woman

“All right, all right. Let’s suppose that’s true,” Fenner said. “But why have you come here?”

“It’s you. You said Haworth. You said you wanted to talk. I came here and waited. I got tired of waiting, so I got into bed. I thought you wouldn’t come back tonight.”

“When did you come here?”

“What do you mean—when?” Her slaty eyes went a little cold.

“What time?”

“Nine o’clock. I waited until eleven and then I went to bed.”

“Anyone see you come in?”

She shook her head. Fenner thought she had gone a little white. She moved restlessly in the bed. He could see the long outline of her legs under the thin sheet. A lot of the bravado had gone out of her. She said, “You sound like a big policeman askin’ nasty questions.”

Fenner smiled bleakly. “Just rehearsing you, baby,” he said. “You haven’t much of an alibi, have you?”

Glorie sat up in bed. She said, “What—what are you saying?”

Fenner shook his head. “Get under cover. You’re too big a girl for this sort of thing now.”

She pulled the sheet up over her, but she didn’t lie down. “What do you mean—alibi?”

He reached over and picked up one of her shoes. He examined it carefully. The sole was covered with dry blood. He tossed the shoe in her lap. She gave a husky little scream and threw it from her. Then she lay back, put her hands over her face and began to cry.

Fenner went to a cupboard, took out a bottle of Scotch, and gave himself a drink.

He lit a cigarette and took off his hat and coat. It was very hot and close in the room. He walked over to the open window and looked into the deserted street. “You’d better tell me,” he said.

She said, “I don’t know anything about it.”

He wandered back to the bed and sat down. “Then the quicker you get out of this room the better pleased I’ll be. I don’t want to be dragged into a murder rap.”

She said, between choking sobs: “I found him. He was lying on the floor. Someone had shot him.”

Fenner ran his fingers through his hair. “Who?” he said gently.

“Harry—Thayler, the man I was with.”

Fenner brooded. “Where is he?” he said at last.

Glorie took her hands away. Fenner experienced a little shock. She certainly wasn’t crying. She was play-acting. She said, “On his boat.”

“When did you find him?”

“Just before I came to you.”

Fenner rubbed his eyes. He got up and put his coat and hat on again. “Wait here,” he said. “I’m goin’ down to have a look at him.”

She said, “I’ll come with you.”

Fenner shook his head. “You keep out of this. Stay here. When I get back I want to talk to you.”

Then he went out of the room and down to the waterfront.

He found Nancy W and climbed on board. He went down into the main cabin. It was dark and he couldn’t find the light switch. He used his torch, but he couldn’t find Thayler. He searched the whole boat, but he couldn’t find anything. The small sleeping cabin aft made him pause. He found a bundle of whips and a lot of other things he didn’t like the look of. He found a pair of very high-heeled boots with pliant rubber heels. He turned on the light in the cabin after closing the porthole. From the clothes lying about, he thought this must be where Thayler had slept.

He went through the chest of drawers carefully.

The only thing he found which really astonished him was a small photo of Curly Robbins taken, as far as he could judge, several years ago. He took the photo and put it in his wallet. Then he shut the drawer and snapped off the light.

He went back to the main cabin again and examined the carpet. It was only when he looked very closely that he could see that the carpet had been recently washed in one small patch. He stood up, scratching his head. He was quite certain now that Thayler was not on board.

Was Thayler dead? Could he rely on what Glorie had said? If he’d been killed, who had got rid of his body and washed up the carpet? Had Glorie killed him? The last time he’d seen those two together they weren’t exactly acting friendly.

He said with exasperation, “Nuts!” and went out of the cabin. As he stepped on the jetty he noticed a big sedan drawn up without lights on the other side of the waterfront. He gave it a quick look, and then dropped flat. A choked roar came from the car as he did so and he knew someone had let off a shotgun in his direction. He pulled his gun and lay flat. He heard the car start and the swish of tires on the sandy road. Then the car swept out of sight round the sandy corner.

Fenner got up and dusted himself. Things were getting complicated. He walked back to the Haworth, keeping in the shadows and using the back streets only.

Glorie lay just where he had left her. Her face was a little pinched and the smile she gave him was only a twist of the mouth.

He pulled up the chair again and sat down. “Was he in the main cabin when you saw him?” he said abruptly.

She said, “Yes.”

Fenner nodded, as if he expected that. “They’ve taken him away now,” he said. “I don’t know why they did that, because if they wanted a fall-guy you’d’ve been it. Either you killed him and tossed him overboard, or you didn’t and the killer came back for some reason or other and took him away. Maybe you tossed him overboard.”

Glorie showed her long arms. “Do you think I could do it? He was big.”

Fenner thought of the almost perpendicular stairs leading into the cabin, and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I guess that’s right.”

The color came back to her face and she didn’t look so drawn. She said, “If they hid him away, no one will know he’s dead, will they?”

Fenner yawned. “That’s right,” he said.

She curled down in the bed, pulling the pillow off the bolster. “Don’t you think I look snug?” she said, her eyes getting flirtatious again.

“Those comic things I found in Thayler’s cabin. Did he use them on you?” Fenner said gently.

“I don’t know. I didn’t know him very well.” She had hitched up the sheet so that he couldn’t see her face.

Fenner said, “Where’s your sister, Marian?”

She didn’t jump more than an inch, but it looked like a couple of yards. Fenner leaned over her and pulled her round. Her eyes were startled. “Where’s your sister?” he repeated.

She said, “What do you know about her? How do you know about her?”

Fenner sat down close to her. “You’re as like as two peas,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” He put his hand inside his pocket and took out the letter he had found in Marian’s bag. “Look at that,” he said.

She read it through blankly and then shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “Who’s Pio? Who’s Noolen?”

Fenner went over to the table, picked up a pad of notepaper and a pencil and came back to the bed. “Write that letter out for me,” he said.

As she struggled up, he said hastily, “Wait.” He went to the cupboard and got his pajama jacket and threw it over to her. Then he went into the bathroom and waited a few seconds. When he came out she had put the coat on and was rolling back the long sleeves.

She said, “Why do you want me to do this?”

“Do it.” He spoke very curtly.

She scribbled on the pad and then gave it to him. He compared the two handwritings. There was nothing similar about them. He tossed the pad on the table again, and began to walk up and down the room slowly. She watched him nervously.

“You’ve got a sister, haven’t you?” he said at last.

She hesitated, then she said, “Yes; but we haven’t seen each other for a very long time.”