Noolen shook his head. “No, we won’t,” he said.
Fenner said evenly, “You yellow big shot! Still scared?”
“I’ve never worked with the cops an’ I never will.”
“You don’t understand. Four days ago, Carlos had me in his waterfront place. He made things pretty tough, but I got away. I’m making this a personal business. I’m not inviting the law to come along.”
Noolen shook his head. “I ain’t playin’.”
Fenner laughed. “Okay, we’ll make you play.”
He stood up. “You in this?” he said to Bugsey.
Bugsey nodded. “I’ll hang around,” he said.
Fenner nodded to Glorie. “Come on, baby,” he said. “You, me an’ Bugsey’ll look after this until this punk decides to fight.”
Glorie got up. “I don’t want to play either.”
Fenner showed his teeth. “What a shame,” he said, walking over to her and taking her arm. “But you’re not Noolen; you’ll do as you’re told.”
Noolen said, “Leave her alone.”
Fenner took no notice. “Let’s go,” he said, and they went out of the room, Glorie walking stiffly beside him.
Out in the street, Fenner paused. He said to Glorie, “We’ll stay at your place.”
Glorie shook her head. “I told you I haven’t got a place.”
Fenner smiled. “We’ll go where you keep your clothes. That evening dress looks sort of out of place at this time.”
Glorie hesitated, then she said, “Listen, I honestly don’t want to be mixed up with Carlos. Will you please excuse me?”
Fenner pushed her into the car. “It’s too late, baby,” he said unpleasantly. “I can’t have anyone shootin’ you up whenever they want to. You’ve got to stick by me for a while.”
She heaved a sigh. “Okay. I’ve got a little place off Sponge Pier.”
Fenner nodded to Bugsey. “Sponge Pier, fast,” he said.
Bugsey climbed into the car and Fenner followed him. He sat close to Glorie, keeping his grips upright between his legs. “There’s goin’ to be an awful lot of fun in this joint pretty soon,” he said. “Maybe I’ll get somewhere or maybe I won’t, but whatever happens to me, Carlos’ll go first.”
Glorie said, “You quite hate that guy, don’t you?”
Fenner looked ahead. His eyes were very cold. “You bet,” he said curtly.
About a half mile past Sponge Pier, hidden by a thick cluster of palm trees, was a small bungalow. Bugsey ran the car through the small landscape garden and parked it outside the door. A wide piazza screened by green sun- blinds encircled the house, and every window had green wooden sun-shutters.
Fenner got out of the car and Glorie followed him. She said to Bugsey, “The garage is at the back.”
Fenner said, “You got a car?”
“Yes. Do you mind?”
Fenner looked at Bugsey. “Take that rented car back. We’ll use this baby’s. We can’t afford to be extravagant.”
Glorie said, “Don’t mind me.”
“Got a staff here?” Fenner asked, looking the house over.
“I’ve got a woman who runs the place.”
“That’s fine. Bugsey can help her.” Once more Fenner turned to Bugsey. “Take the car back, then come on here. Miss Leadler will tell her woman you’re coming. Then you make yourself useful until I want you. Get it?”
Bugsey said, “You’re payin’ the bill,” and he drove the car away.
Fenner followed Glorie into the bungalow. It was a nice place. A small Spanish woman appeared from nowhere, and Glorie waved her hand. “This is Mr. Fenner. He’ll be staying a little while. Will you fix lunch?”
The woman gave Fenner a quick look. He didn’t quite like the smirk in her eyes, and she went away again.
Glorie opened a door on the left of the lobby. “Go in there and rest yourself. I want to change.”
Fenner said, “Sure,” and wandered into the room. It was comfortable: cushions, divans and more cushions. The open windows led out to the piazza, and the room was dim with subdued sunlight.
The Spanish woman came in and laid a table for lunch on the piazza. Fenner sat on one of the divans and smoked. He said, “When you’re through, you might get me a drink.” She took no notice of him, and he didn’t bother to speak again. He sat quite still.
Glorie came in after a while. She wore a black silk dress, ankle length, and red doeskin sandals. Her beautiful golden hair cascaded down around her shoulders. Her mouth was very red, and the sparkling light in her eyes was complemented by the translucent glow of numerous strings of pearls which wound around her neck and fell across the low cut bosom of her gown.
She said, “Like me?” and pivoted slowly.
“Yeah,” he said, getting up. “You’re all right.”
She made a little grimace at him and went over to fix drinks. The dress clung to her body.
Fenner’s mouth twisted. He told himself she was going to put on an act pretty soon.
The ice-cold cocktails had a bite. When they sat down to the meal, Fenner felt fine. They got through the meal without saying much. Fenner was conscious of Glorie’s eyes. She kept looking at him and then, when he glanced she’d look hurriedly away. They talked about the bungalow and the Spanish woman and things that didn’t matter.
After the woman had cleared away, Fenner lounged on the divan. Glorie moved restlessly about the room. Fenner followed her with his eyes because she was beautiful to watch. She said suddenly, “Don’t sit there doing nothing.”
“What do you want me to do?
She went over to the window and looked out. The subdued light silhouetted her long legs through the white dress. Fenner watched her with interest.
She said, “Come on, I’ll show you my place.”
“Bedroom first stop?” Fenner leaned on his elbow, his eyes half closed.
She went to the door. “Come on.” There was a note of urgency in her voice.
Fenner got off the divan and followed her across the lobby and into another large room. It was very bare. Polished boards, rugs and a large divan bed, that was all. A small dressing-room and a bathroom led off to the right. She stood aside to let Fenner pass and then shut the door behind her. Fenner heard her gently turn the key in the lock.
He looked into the dressing-room and then into the bathroom, while she waited. “Very nice,” he said.
He could hear the sound of her breathing from where he stood. He didn’t look at her. He kept moving about the room while she waited. Then he said suddenly, “Let’s talk.”
She sat limply on the bed and stretched out flat on her back. She put her laced fingers behind her head. Fenner looked down, at her. His face was expressionless.
“Thayler is the guy who runs Carlos’ labor syndicate. He was married to Curly Robbins, Nightingale’s assistant. Carlos has just killed her. You ran with Thayler. Did you know what his racket was?”
She said, “Sit down here, and I’ll talk to you.”
He sat down close to her. “Well?”
“Give me your hand.”
He put his hand in hers. “Did you know?” he repeated.
She gripped it hard. “Yes, I knew,” she said.
Fenner sat very still. He could feel the warmth of her body against his hand. “Did you know he was married to Curly?”
She lay with her eyes closed, her teeth biting her underlip. “No.”
“You knew all about Carlos as well?”
“Yes, I knew all about him.” She shifted his hand, and he took it away. She sat up. He saw how wild her eyes were. She wound her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to her. Before her lips could reach his mouth he
