Lady, Here's Your Wreath

out.”

     She finished her hair and opened up the suit-case. I saw her make a little grimace at the way I had packed her things, but that didn't worry me. She'd got a hell of a crust asking me to do it, so if she didn't like it she could do what the monkey did.

     She sorted some things out that she wanted to wear and began to get dressed. I sat there and watched her. The thing uppermost in my mind was that she was leaving town and I might never see her again. She was an important link between Katz and Spencer, and consequently she might be able to lead me to Mardi. I risked everything and had another try.

     “There was a girl working for Spencer at the Mackenzie Fabrics. She was a mighty swell dame an' I got interested in her,” I began.

     “Listen, hayseed,” she said, without looking up. She was bending over, fixing her suspender. “I ain't interested in your love life.”

     I was tempted to take a sock at her, but I kept my hands in my pockets. “This dame has disappeared,” I went on. “I can't find her——”

     “If she was a good girl she's saved herself a lot of grief,” she said, straightening up and reaching for her dress.

     “I could do things to you,” I said grimly.

     “I know—I know. It's no use makin' a beef now.”

     I went over to her and put my hands on her arms. I held her tight. She looked up at me, her face hardening. “Don't start getting tough,” she said. “I'll get that way too.”

     “You haven't thought that Katz is hanging around waiting to put a slug in you, have you?” I said. “You think you're bright enough to play a solo hand on this and get away with it. You might, but then again you might not. If one day I read that a nice-lookin' blonde has been fished out of the drink, I'll have a laugh. I am ready to take this thing over if you're ready to tell me what you know. If you wait too long, you might never be able to talk. So this is your last chance to get it off your chest.”

     She sneered. “What a mouthful,” she said. “I can look after myself, big boy, don't let that grieve you. I've done it before, an' I'll keep on doin' it. I ain't tellin' you a thing. If you're so anxious, try and find out for yourself.”

     I shrugged and let her go. “Okay, wise guy,” I said. “Go ahead and work on your own. Don't say I haven't warned you.”

     She pulled on her dress and fixed her hat. As she closed her case, she said: “The next time you see me, raise your lid. I shall be in the money.”

     That crack told me something. Blondie had her eye on some easy dough. That meant blackmail. It explained why she wanted to work on her own. It explained quite a lot of things.

     I said: “You watch your step, Blondie. That game's dangerous.”

     Her face was expressionless. She picked up her bag and moved to the door. “I'll get by,” she said. “If I don't see you again, keep sober.”

     She opened the door and stepped into the passage. I watched her walk away, her tall figure swaying a little and her head held high.

     I was just going back to my room when I saw the guy opposite standing in his doorway. His eyes were popping.

     “Still seein' things?” I asked pleasantly, and went inside, shutting the door quietly against his palpitating curiosity.

CHAPTER TWELVE

     BY THE TIME ACKIE and I got round to Hughson's place the party was well under way.

     There were eight couples crammed into his small room and the air was thick with smoke. Everyone was drinking as hard as they could put it down and everyone was smoking.

     There was a general shout when Ackie edged his way in. Most people got a laugh when they saw him. He got rid of his hat and coat and grabbed a bottle of Scotch.

     Hughson came over to me and shook hands. “This is a bum party, Nick,” he said apologetically. “But I'm glad you've come.”

     He led me round the room, introducing me. Most of the Globe guys were there and five stream-lined dames. They all looked so good I had to remark about it. Hughson explained they were from The Moon and the Fiddle, a musical that was running at the Plaza.

     He got me settled down with a redhead and a glass of Scotch-and-soda in my hand, and then he went off to do the host with Ackie. Not that Ackie wasn't looking after himself.

     The redhead was pretty tight and giggled a lot. She told me her name was Dawn Murray. When I asked what her real name was she giggled a lot more but wouldn't tell me.

     These parties always go the same way. Everyone gets plastered and talks about nothing and laughs when there's nothing to laugh about. I guess it's just an excuse to get tight.

     Dawn started talking about books. This surprised me because I thought she wouldn't bother about reading. She'd just finished Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath.

     “Now I bet that guy knows what he's writing about,” she said. “I bet he lived in those camps. That's the most marvellous book I've ever read.”

     A tall, lanky guy who I didn't know, and whose name I hadn't caught when I was introduced, pricked up