Ed McBain - The Mugger

Kling heard footsteps coming through the apartment. He busied himself with the glass of beer. When he lifted his head, Bell was standing in the doorway to the room, the girl beside him — and Kling no longer doubted his veracity.

The girl was a little taller than Molly. She wore her blonde hair clipped close to her head, and it was the blondest hair Kling had ever seen in his life. It was almost yellow, like ripe corn, and he knew instantly that she had never touched it. The hair was as natural as her face, and her face was a perfect oval with a slightly tilted nose and wide, clear blue eyes. Her brows were black, as if fate hadn’t been able to make up its mind, and they arched over the blue eyes, suspended between them and the yellow hair, strikingly beautiful. Her lips were full, and she wore a pale-orange lipstick, and her mouth was not smiling.

She wore a straight black skirt and a blue sweater, the sleeves showing up to her elbows. She was a slender girl, but a slender girl with the remarkable combination of good hips and firm, full breasts that crowded her sweater. Her legs were good, too. Her thighs were full, and her calves were beautifully curved, and even the loafers she wore could not hide the natural splendor of her legs.

She was a woman, and a beautiful woman.

Peter Bell hadn’t lied. His sister-in-law was a knockout.

“Jeannie, this is Bert Kling. Bert, I’d like you to meet my sister-in-law, Jeannie Paige.”

Kling got to his feet. “How do you do?” he said.

“Hi,” Jeannie answered. She did not move from where she stood alongside Bell.

“Bert’s a cop,” Bell said. “Maybe you read about him. He got shot in a bar downtown.”

“Outside the bar,” Kling corrected.

“Sure, well,” Bell said. “Honey, your sister and I have to go now, and Bert only just got here, so I thought you wouldn’t mind talking to him a while — until the sitter gets here, huh?”

“Where are you going?” Jeannie asked.

“I got to hack a while, and Molly’s taking in a movie.”

“Oh,” Jeannie said, looking at Kling suspiciously.

“So okay?” Bell asked.

“Sure,” Jeannie replied.

“I’ll take off this apron and comb my hair,” Molly said. Kling watched her as she rose. He could see the resemblance between her and Jeannie now, and he could now believe that Molly, too, had been a damned attractive woman once. But marriage and motherhood, and work and worry, had taken a great deal out of her. She was no match now for her younger sister, if she had ever been. She went out of the living room and into a room Kling supposed was the bathroom.

“It’s a nice night,” Kling said awkwardly.

“Is it?” Jeannie asked.

“Yes.”

“Molly! Hurry up!” Bell called.

“Coming,” she answered from the bathroom.

“Very mild. For autumn, I mean,” Kling said.

Jeannie made no comment.

In a few minutes, Molly came out of the bathroom, her hair combed, fresh lipstick on her mouth. She put on her coat and said, “If you go out, don’t come home too late, Jeannie.”

“Don’t worry,” Jeannie answered.

“Well, good night. It was nice meeting you, Bert. Call us, won’t you?”

“Yes, I will.”

Bell paused with his hand on the doorknob. “I’m leaving her in your hands, Bert,” he said. “Good night.” He and Molly went out of the room, closing the door behind them. Kling heard the outside door slam shut. The room was dead silent. Outside, he heard a car starting. He assumed it was Bell’s cab.

“Whose idea was this?” Jeannie asked.

“I don’t understand,” Kling said.

“Your coming here. Hers?”

“No. Peter’s an old friend of mine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“How old are you?” Jeannie asked.

“Twenty-four,” Kling said.

“Is she trying to fix us up or something?”

“What?”

“Molly. Is she trying to finagle something?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Jeannie stared at him levelly. Her eyes were very blue. He watched her face, suddenly overwhelmed by her beauty.

“You’re not as dumb as you sound, are you?” she asked.

“I’m not trying to sound dumb,” Kling said.

“I’m asking you whether or not Molly has plans for you and me.”

Kling smiled. “No, I don’t think she has.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Jeannie said.

“I take it you don’t like your sister very much.”

Jeannie seemed suddenly alert. “She’s okay,” she answered.

“But?”

“No buts. My sister is fine.”

“Then why do you resent her?”

“Because I know Peter wouldn’t go hollering cop, so this must be her idea.”

“I’m here as a friend, not as a cop.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Jeannie said. “You’d better drink your beer. I’m leaving as soon as that sitter arrives.”

“Got a date?” Kling asked casually.

“Who wants to know?”

“I do.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“That puts me in my place, I guess.”

“It should,” Jeannie said.

“You seem a lot older than seventeen.”

For a moment, Jeannie bit her lip. “I am a lot older than seventeen,” she answered then. “A whole lot older, Mr. Kling.”

“Bert,” he corrected. “What’s the matter, Jeannie? You haven’t smiled once since I met you.”

“Nothing’s the matter.”

“Trouble at school?”

“No.”

“Boyfriend?”

She hesitated. “No.”

“Aha,” Kling said. “When you’re seventeen, it’s usually a boyfriend.”

“I haven’t got a boyfriend.”

“No. What then? Crush on someone who doesn’t care?”

“Stop it!” Jeannie said harshly. “This is none of your business. You’ve no right to pry!”

“I’m sorry,” Kling said. “I was trying to help. You’re not in any kind of trouble, are you?”

“No.”

“I meant with the law.”

“No. And if I was, I certainly wouldn’t tell it to a cop.”

“I’m a friend, remember?”

“Sure, friend.”

“You’re a very pretty girl, Jeannie.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“A pretty girl can find herself in with the wrong crowd. A pretty girl—”

“Is like a melody,” Jeannie concluded. “I’m not in with the wrong crowd. I’m fine. I’m a healthy, normal teenager. Leave me alone.”

“Do you date much?”

“Enough.”

“Anyone steady?”

“No.”

“Anyone in mind for a steady?”

“Do you date much?” Jeannie countered.

“Not much.”

“Anyone steady?”

“No,” Kling answered, smiling.

“Anyone in mind for a steady?”

“No.”

“Why not? I should think a hero cop would be in wild demand.”

“I’m shy,” Kling said.

“I’ll just bet you are. We haven’t known each other ten minutes, and we’re discussing my love life. What’ll you ask next? My brassiere size?”

Kling’s eyes dropped inadvertently to the sweater.

“I’ll save you the trouble,” Jeannie snapped. “It’s a thirty-eight, C-cup.”

“I figured as much,” Kling answered.

“That’s right, I keep forgetting you’re a cop. Cops are very observant, aren’t they? Are you the force’s prize detective?”

“I’m a patrolman,” Kling said levelly.

“Smart fellow like you, only a patrolman?”

“What the hell’s eating you?” Kling asked suddenly, his voice rising.

“Nothing. What’s eating you?”

“I never met a kid like you. You’ve got a decent home, you’ve got looks any other girl would chop off her right arm for, and you sound—”

“I’m the belle of Riverhead, didn’t you know? I’ve got boys crying for—”