Рауль Уитфилд - Sinners' Paradise

“He’s not that wise,” Pinky returned.

“Don’t you believe it,” her partner stated. “All husbands are wise-some of them so much so that they make their wives think they are stupid.”

Pinky felt another queer little stab of fear inside of her. Haverstraw was talking in riddles but they were vaguely annoying-and she wondered just why.

“You should know,” she shot back, quite obviously.

She felt Haverstraw tighten his grip upon her. The music was playing softly, and with the perfect beat of the super-jazz orchestra.

“I do know,” he replied grimly. “And it cost me something to find out.”

“In money?” she persisted.

He laughed. “A wise little pirate was she,” he said, in a quoting manner. “I see my table is unoccupied. Would you care to sit and drink this out-and listen to a story in which I feel you are interested?”

Pinky was about to decline, but she was interested in the Denton case, and she felt that Haverstraw would tell her something about it. And, too, she was a trifle tired. A drink would help.

“I’d love to!” she replied recklessly.

He smiled, and led her from the floor. His table was at the opposite end of the room from the one at which Pinky had been seated. And there was champagne. Jimmy Weare was a good friend of Haverstraw’s, she remembered. He had testified for him at the trial.

They seated themselves, and Haverstraw pulled his chair close to Pinky’s. The champagne was excellent, fairly seemed to sparkle her into a more vivid awareness of the gaiety of her surroundings. The place was a flare of colour, noise, excitement.

Haverstraw took her hand. “Pretty,” he commented. “Shall I start at the beginning?”

“Do!” Pinky urged, making a slight effort to pull her hand away. But she did want to hear his story-so she let him hold her hand. He commenced to talk, his face close to hers. She was beginning to feel just a bit dizzy.

Balloons were floating down from the balcony that surrounded the room. They were blue and gold and red. Pinky blinked at them. Haverstraw was still talking in a monotonous drone. But he had not told her what she had wanted to know, had come to hear. He was, perhaps, a little beyond that.

She felt a desire to get back to their own table, to Tiny and Del and Lou. And she was also commencing to feel a swift regret. She and Tiny should never have come to this party.

The crowd was too lively, too fast-in the first place. In the second place, it was very likely that their husbands would be incapable of understanding. Hobey, she thought, would be rather doubtful, even if she told the truth-told him that it was a farewell party, and that Tiny had urged her to go.

She could not distinguish Haverstraw’s words, but was suddenly aware that both of his arms were around her. Somehow, she got to her feet. Balloons were drifting everywhere; she brushed one away from her face.

“What’s the matter?” she heard Haverstraw saying. “Thought you wanted-“

She turned away from him. They were dancing, and she was bumped several times as she walked, with a fair degree of steadiness, towards the opposite end of the room.

Suddenly, just as she had reached the end of the polished floor, she felt herself jerked about by Haverstraw.

“What’s the rush?” he said casually. “I’m not through telling-“

“Let me go!” she ordered. “I’m going away from this place. “I’m sick of it-sick of all the noise and the people. Let me go!”

He laughed shortly. She could hear him more clearly now; they were farther away from the orchestra.

“It took you quite a while to get sick of it,” he reminded. “And quite a bit of my champagne, my dear.”

She tried to get away from him, but he held her tightly. “One more dance,” he begged, “and then you can go. Be a bold, brave pirate.”

Pinky was aware of the fact that he was mocking her, but that did not matter. She twisted violently, but he held her. They were attracting attention. She saw Delatante coming towards her.

A swift panic gripped her. Del had a gun; he had probably brought it with him. And Haverstraw was quick-tempered-and a murderer!

“Please let me go,” she begged. “I don’t feel like dancing.”

“That’s all right,” Haverstraw commenced. “Let me see who you are? Kind of like you, bold pirate.”

He made a motion as though to lift her mask, but she evaded him… She caught a glimpse of the red cloth of Del’s Satanic costume.

“Make him let me go, Del,” she begged. “He’s had too much to drink-doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

There was a sharp crack; she felt her wrist free of Haverstraw’s grip. Turning around, she saw Haverstraw stretched on the floor. Delatante was standing over him, his fists clenched.

She started to run towards the table and Tiny, but the staccato crackle of a revolver jerked her about. She caught the gleam of a gun in Haverstraw’s right hand, and saw Delatante sway above him.

Haverstraw had fired from the floor! The place was in a wild turmoil. There were screams, hoarse cries. Men rushed towards the prostrate Haverstraw and the swaying Delatarite, obscuring Pinky’s vision.

She started once more towards the table. Stumbling, her eyes wide, she reached Tiny’s side. Lou was not present.

“They’ve killed Del!” she sobbed hysterically. But curiously enough she was not thinking as much about Del as she was about the publicity-and Hobey’s ultimate discovery of the fact that she had lied to him, and had come to the place.

“They? Who?” Tiny was holding her by the shoulders. “I heard the shot-what happened, Pinky?”

Helene sobbed the story incoherently. “We’ve got to get away,” she urged. “They’ll take care of Del-there’s nothing we can do. Lou can get a taxi outside. They always wait there-a few of them. Oh, Tiny-I wish we’d never come. I wish we-“

She broke off abruptly. Tiny was dragging her away from the table, towards the retiring room. She got a glimpse of the crowd, still gathered about Del, she supposed. The costumes seemed an incongruous blending of colour now, an irony.

She wondered if Delatante had been killed. Haverstraw was a good shot. That had been brought up at the trial. The chances were that-

“Where is Lou?” Tiny was demanding, interrupting her train of thought. “I haven’t seen him since you left with Haverstraw and I with Ulysses.”

“I don’t know,” Pinky returned. “But we can’t wait, Tiny-we must get away from here. What if Del talks? Tells who we are?”

“He won’t,” Tiny returned. “He’ll be too careful of himself. Brace up, Pinky. We’ll be home in half hour.”

Pinky stared into the mirror. The maid brought her coat, helped her into it. She felt years older than when she had come in. There was a faint buzzing in her ears. She could not distinguish Tiny’s voice from the maid’s but she could hear their words, as though from a distance.

“Come on,” she urged, as Tiny jammed on her hat. “Hurry, Tiny-we must get away.”

“But I must put this hat on,” Tiny remonstrated, “and my eyes are none too clear.”

Pinky jerked her away from the mirror. Her own eyes seemed staring at things through a thin blur.

“We should never have come,” she muttered, as they moved out of the room, their costumes hidden beneath the long coats. “If Del or Lou talk-“

“They won’t,” Tiny replied. “I tell you, they’re too careful of themselves.”

“But Del may be dying,” Pinky returned, “and he’d tell the police-or somebody.”

She shivered as they went out through a side door towards the parking place. The night was chilly.

A form loomed up in front of them. Tiny cried out.