James Chase: 12 Chinks and a Woman

FENNER opened one eye as Paula Dolan put some elegant curves and her fluffy head round his office door. He regarded her vaguely, and then settled himself more comfortably. His large feet rested on the snowy blotting-pad, and the swiveled desk chair inclined perilously at an angle of 45°. He said sleepily, “Run away, Dizzy, I’ll play with you later. Right now I’m thinking.”

Some more curves filtered through the half-open door, and Paula came to the desk. “Wake up, Morpheus,” she said; “you got a client.”

Fenner groaned. “Tell him to go away. Tell him we’ve gone outta business. I gotta catch up some sleep sometimes, haven’t I?”

“What’s your bed for?” Paula said impatiently.

“Don’t ask questions like that,” Fenner mumbled, settling himself further down in the chair.

“Snap out of it, Dave,” Paula pleaded; “there’s a passion flower waiting outside, and she looks as if she’s got a load of grief to share with you.”

Fenner opened an eye again. “What’s she like?” he asked. “Maybe she’s collecting for some charity.”

Paula sat on the edge of the desk. “Sometimes I wonder why you keep that plate on your door. Don’t you want to do business?”

Fenner shook his head. “Not if I can help it,” he said. “We’re in the dough, ain’t we? Let’s take it easy.”

“You’re passing up something pretty good. Still, if that’s the way you feel . . .” Paula slid off the desk.

“Hey, wait a minute.” Fenner sat up and pushed his hat off his eyes. “Is she really a passion flower?”

Paula nodded. “I guess she’s in trouble, Dave.”

“Okay, okay, send her in, send her in.”

Paula opened the door. She said, “Will you come in?”

A voice said, “Thank you,” and a young woman came in. She walked slowly past Paula, looking at Fenner with large, smoky-blue eyes.

She was a shade taller than average, and pliantly slender. Her legs were long, her hands and feet narrow, and her body was very erect. Her hair, curling under her prim little hat, was raven black. She wore a severe two-piece costume, and she looked very young and very scared.

Paula gave her an encouraging smile and went out, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Fenner took his feet off the desk and stood up. “Sit down ” he said, “and tell me what I can do for you.” He indicated the arm-chair by his desk.

She shook her head. “I’d rather stand,” she said breathlessly. “I may not be here very long.”

Fenner sat down again. “You can do just what you like here,” he said soothingly. “This places is anyone’s home.”

They remained looking at each other for a long minute. Then Fenner said, “You know you’d better sit down. You’ve got a lot to tell me an’ you look tired.”

He could see she wasn’t scared of him, she was scared of something that he didn’t know anything about. Her eyes were uneasy, and she held her high-breasted body as though she was ready to jump for the door.

Again she shook her head. “I want you to find my sister,” she said breathlessly. “I’m so worried about my sister. What will it cost? I mean, what are your fees?”

Fenner squinted at the inkwell by his hand. “Suppose you don’t worry your head about the cost. Just relax an’ tell me all about it,” he said. “Tell me who you are for a start.”

The telephone jangled at his elbow. The effect on the girl was startling. She took two quick graceful steps away from the phone, and her eyes went cloudy and big.

Fenner grinned at her. “I guess I get the same way,” he said quietly, pulling the receiver towards him. “When I fall asleep an’ the bell goes off, I guess it scares the shirt right off my back.”

She stood very tense by the door, watching him.

Fenner said, “Excuse me a moment,” as he took off the receiver. “Yeah?” he said.

There was a lot of crackling on the line. Then a man said with a very liquid accent: “Fenner?”

“Yeah.”

“Any moment now, Fenner, a girl is going to call in and see you. I want you to hold her until I get round to your office. I’m on my way now. Do you understand?”

Fenner let his eyes fall on the girl, and he smiled at her reassuringly. “I don’t get it,” he said to the telephone.

“Well, listen, only get this right. A girl will come and see you about a story of her missing sister. Well, hold her for me. She’s suffering from delusions. She got away from an asylum yesterday, and I know she’s heading for your office. Just hold her for me.”

Fenner pushed his hat on to the bridge of his nose. “Who in hell are you?” he said.

There was more crackling on the wire. “I’ll explain when I get around. I’m coming right away. Your fee will be paid on a generous scale if you do this.”

Fenner said, “Okay, you come on up.”

The girl said, “Did he say I was crazy?” The hand that wasn’t holding her bag fluttered up and down the seam of her skirt.

Fenner put the receiver on its prong. He nodded shortly.

She shut her eyes for a second, then her lids rolled back like a doll’s that has been sat up suddenly. She said desperately, “It’s so difficult not to believe him.” Then she put her bag on the desk, stripped off her gloves and hastily pulled off her coat. Fenner sat quite still, his hand on the telephone, watching her. She gave a little sob and then, with trembling fingers, she began to undo her shirt blouse.

Fenner shifted. “You don’t have to do this,” he said uneasily. “I’m interested in your case without any act.”

Once again she caught her breath in a sob and turned her back on him. She pulled the blouse off. Fenner’s hand strayed to the bell. Maybe this dame was nutty, and was going to hold him up for assault. Then he stiffened and took his hand away. Her back was covered with weals. The thin red streaks that crisscrossed on the white flesh made a strange and terrifying pattern. She pulled on the blouse again, fastened the buttons, and then put on her coat. Then she turned round and looked at Fenner with her eyes bigger than ever.

“Now do you believe I’m in trouble?” she said.

Fenner shook his head. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “You came to me for help. Okay, why look further? You don’t have to be scared.”

She stood there, torturing her lower lip with her glistening teeth. Then she opened her bag and took out a roll of notes. She put them on the desk. “Will that do as a retainer?” she said.

Fenner touched the roll with a thick finger. Without actually counting the money he couldn’t be sure, but he was willing to bet that there was at least six grand in that roll. He got up swiftly, picked up the roll, and stepped to the door. “Stay here,” he said, and went outside into the outer office.

Paula was sitting at the typewriter, her hands in her lap and her eyes expectant.

Fenner said, “Grab your hat quick, an’ take this baby to the Baltimore Hotel. Get her a room there and tell her to lock herself in. Take this roll and when you’ve fixed her, sock it in the bank. Find out all you can about her. Tell her I’ll look after her. Give her the you’re-in-good-hands dope: Feed her a good line of syrup. She’s got the jitters; she’s in trouble and she’s still young enough to need a mother.”

He went back to the office. “What’s your name?” he said.

The girl beat her hands together. “Do get me away from here,” she said.

Fenner put his hand on her arm. “I’m sending you out with my secretary. She’ll look after you. There’s a guy on his way up who’s interested in you. I’ll take care of him. What’s your name?”