The Lady Has a Scar

by Hank Janson

  ‘You mustn’t do that,’ said Lulu. ‘You must let him have his clothes back.’

  ‘Listen, honey,’ I said. ‘I’m gonna do you a favour. That guy can’t get out of here without clothes. And just as long as he’s without clothes you’re gonna be happy. I’m gonna make you happy, honey. See?’

  ‘But I don’t want him, Hank,’ she said earnestly. ‘I want you.’

  ‘But I’m busy, honey,’ I said. ‘Can’t you make do with him until I come back?’

  ‘Will you be long?’ she pouted.

  ‘Not too long,’ I said.

  She was still pleading with me all the way to the door to come back soon. She didn’t plead too hard, though. I guessed that having one guy staked out ready was occupying her mind.

  There was a post office nearby. I borrowed paper and string and made up a parcel of the clothes. I addressed it to Conrad, c/o Police Headquarters, and sent it parcel post. I guessed Sharp would have difficulty explaining that away.

  Then I went home.

  14

  I was fitting the key into the lock of my apartment when a soft voice at my elbow said: ‘Hello, Hank.’

  I looked up wearily. ‘Hello, Stella,’ I said.

  She didn’t wait to be asked in. She pushed inside with me. The pain in my head was starting again. I shuffled through into the living-room, switched on the light, sank down in a chair and eased the shoes off my feet.

  ‘May I come in?’ asked Stella. She was already in.

  ‘Get me a drink, will you?’ I said. I nodded towards the cocktail cabinet.

  ‘Straight or soda?’

  ‘Straight.’

  She poured a coupla drinks, came over, sat down beside me. She eased her bolero off her shoulders and she was wearing a plain red frock with a neckline that plunged to her waist.

  ‘I wanna talk to you, Hank,’ she said.

  ‘Do you have to?’

  ‘If you don’t mind.’ She smiled sweetly and looked at me with her face tilted on one side. It made her red hair ripple over her shoulders. I bet she knew that.

  ‘Look, Stella,’ I said. ‘I’m worn out. I had one hour’s sleep last night. Since then I’ve been chasing murderers all over town. I’ve had umpteen false leads. I’ve been pushed around by cops, smacked in the teeth, worried till my brain is withered to a dried pod and every bone in my body is aching. I’ve got the grandfather of all headaches, a blood-pressure that’s way up level with Everest, and a hunger that’s gnawing the pit of my stomach. I’ve just remembered I haven’t eaten all day.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Hank,’ she said sympathetically. She got a bright idea.

  ‘Look, honey. Why don’t you stretch out on the settee. Make yourself comfortable. If you’ve got anything in the icebox, I’ll scramble a meal.’

  That sounded a whole lot better than talking. ‘That’s fine!’ I said. I took her advice, spread out the cushions on the settee, took off my jacket, stretched myself out and sighed with relief.

  Stella disappeared into the kitchen. I lay there, drowsily fighting off sleep. Not long after, she returned with a tray of food. Fried bacon, fried eggs, marmalade, toast and coffee.

  I took time off to eat the food, and it sure tasted good. Finally, with a sigh of satisfaction, I lapsed back on the cushions. She cleared away the dishes, manoeuvred a hassock into position by the side of the settee and sat down. The way she was sitting facing me, I could see between the cleavage of her breasts nearly down to her navel.

  ‘I want to ask your advice, Hank,’ she said solemnly.

  ‘If it’s worth anything.’

  ‘I’m sure it is, honey,’ she said. ‘I think you’ll give good advice.’

  ‘If I stay awake long enough to give it.’

  ‘It’s about Dane,’ she said.

  I closed my eyes. ‘What about him?’ I mumbled.

  ‘I was a fool,’ she said bitterly. ‘What a fool I made of myself with Burden. And now I see it quite clearly. Dane was so good. He was so thoughtful. He thought the world of me. And he did everything he could to stop me being so foolish.’ There was a sob in her voice. ‘I guess I just didn’t understand.’

  ‘I could have told you that last night,’ I said. ‘But you weren’t in the mood to take advice then.’

  ‘I know,’ she said humbly. ‘I must have been out of my mind.’

  I opened my eyes, looked at her. She was thinking over what had happened the previous night. I could tell right away if ever a dame was sorry for something, it was Stella.

  ‘Well, what about Dane?’

  ‘I want you to help me, Hank,’ she said softly.

  ‘How? What can I do?’

  ‘Make him understand,’ she said. ‘He’ll listen to you. Explain I wasn’t myself. Tell him I didn’t know what I was doing.’

  ‘What good will that do?’

  ‘I’m so lonely now, Hank,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what I’ll do without him. I didn’t realise how much I’d begun to rely on him.’

  I eased myself up on one elbow and stared at her. ‘You don’t know yet, then?’

  ‘Don’t know what?’

  I breathed heavily. ‘Dane’s in Las Vegas,’ I said.

  ‘Las Vegas?’ Her eyebrows arched. ‘Is there some festival on there?’

  ‘Why do people usually go to Las Vegas?’ I asked.

  ‘They usually go there to get married quickly,’ she said. ‘But Dane wouldn’t be doing that …’ She broke off, and her wide eyes stared at me with sudden alarm.

  ‘You’ve hit it,’ I said. ‘That’s why he’s gone.’

  ‘No,’ she breathed, incredulously.

  ‘You lost out on that one,’ I said.

  ‘But he couldn’t. He couldn’t have done that!’ she pleaded.

  ‘He’s done it,’ I said brutally. ‘And I guess it won’t work out too badly at that.’

  ‘But who was it?’ she asked. ‘There was nobody he knew. I was the only one.’ .

  ‘Up until last night,’ I said. ‘What you did last night kinda opened his eyes. He looked around. He found something else that suited him better.’

  ‘Better!’

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘You don’t think anybody could treat him worse than you did?’

  ‘But who was she?’

  ‘Just a dame,’ I said. ‘Just a dame named Pearl Gibbons. You wouldn’t know her.’

  ‘She was at the party …’

  ‘That’s where he met her.’

  Her cheeks flamed. Her eyes flashed angrily. ‘Cheap chiseller,’ she said bitterly. ‘Just to meet a girl like that at a party! Leaves me high and dry and marries her! Just like that! Hardly known her a minute!’

  I chuckled.

  She glared at me. ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘Figure it out, honey. You gave him the air. You treated him as badly as a dame can treat a guy. He goes somewhere else for sympathy and gets it. He laps up the sympathy like a cat laps up milk. He can’t get enough of it. So he dashes off to Las Vegas to stake out a claim for a perpetual supply. Can you blame him?’

  She dropped her eyes, suddenly humble. ‘Guess not,’ she admitted.

  ‘Get me another drink, will ya, honey?’ I said.

  ‘Of course,’ she said softly.

  She got up quickly, handling herself carelessly. She had been sitting on a low hassock. The way her skirts whirled around showed a lot of her thigh. I watched her as she walked across the room. She had a nice way of walking, a kinda animated walk with a gentle, fascinating swing of the haunches. I watched as she poured the drink. Her red hair hung across her forehead and cheek like a red cloud, and her firm breasts pressed outward against her dress. When she straightened up she saw me watching her, and there musta been something special about the way I was watching her. She blushed slightly and a pleased smile came to her lips.

  She brought the drinks back, sat down again, and somehow there was a difference in the atmosphere. Al
most as though there was an understanding between us.

  ‘You give me ideas,’ I said. ‘I’m gonna get rid of all my chairs and have only hassocks for my girlfriends to sit on.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ she chuckled. Her eyes smiled into mine.

  ‘Well,’ I said, and looked meaningfully at her legs. ‘It kinda improves the view.’

  ‘Anything you haven’t seen, Hank?’ she asked pointedly.

  ‘I’ve got to admit it, Stella,’ I said. ‘You’ve got nice legs.’

  ‘You really think so, Hank?’ She pushed her legs straight out in front of her, pulled her skirts so they rode over her knees and examined her legs critically.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Real nice.’

  ‘I’m glad you think so, Hank,’ she said. She left her skirt where it was and doubled up her legs again. That meant the hem of her skirt fell back into her lap. She looked at me with soft, dreamy eyes. ‘You’re so understanding, Hank,’ she said.

  ‘I wish I were,’ I said. ‘I really wish I were.’

  ‘But you are!’

  ‘There’s lots of things I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘Why dames do things. Why guys do things. Why I let you sit here talking to me this way, why I’m admiring your legs and finding I’m really liking you, while all the time I know you’re a first-class bitch.’

  She didn’t get annoyed. ‘You don’t really think so, do you, Hank?’ she asked pleadingly.

  ‘A quarter of an hour ago, I did,’ I said. ‘I’m not so sure now,’ and I looked at her warm, sleek thighs. ‘My judgment’s biased right now.’

  She chuckled deep down in her throat. ‘You and me are the same kinda people, aren’t we, Hank?’

  ‘Are we?’

  ‘You take life as it comes. You don’t quarrel with life. We just accept it.’

  ‘I duck and dodge occasionally,’ I said. I looked at her legs again. ‘Whenever I’ve got the moral courage.’

  The hem of her skirt was in her lap. She held it there with one hand while she changed position, transferred from the hassock to the edge of the settee. When she was sitting beside me that way I could see along her thighs into the shadows of her soft, filmy underwear.

  ‘I’m tired, Stella,’ I said. ‘I had one hour’s sleep last night. I’ve been slogging all day. I’m worn out.’

  ‘Poor boy,’ she said. She leaned over and stroked my forehead gently, smoothed my hair back. It was nice.

  I nodded. ‘It’s nice,’ I said. ‘It’s soothing.’

  She was leaning over me. Her plunging neckline revealed milky white skin. Her breasts were pointed strong and firm. ‘You don’t believe in uplift?’ I said softly.

  ‘Of course not, honey. You don’t think I need it, do you?’

  ‘Lots of dames do,’ I said. ‘It’s supposed to do something for their figure.’

  She was still stroking my forehead, softly, gently, smoothing back my hair. My tired limbs weren’t aching anymore, they seemed to have eased into restful relaxation.

  ‘I never have needed uplift,’ she said. ‘Did you think I did?’ Her eyes were smiling into mine.

  ‘I just wondered,’ I said.

  ‘I can prove it,’ she said.

  ‘I guess so,’ I said. ‘I …’

  She was fumbling with the lower button at the front of her dress. The neckline widened a lot more and showed clearly the firm, hard thrust of her breasts against the dress. Without a doubt they were firm enough to require no dressmaker’s aids.

  ‘You sure are cute,’ I said softly, tiredly.

  Her hand was like cool velvet caressing my forehead, caressing my hair.

  With her other hand she eased the dress off her shoulders, allowing it to slip down her upper arms so that her warm, tautened breasts were pointing towards me. Her eyes were suddenly hot and sulky. She said harshly like she couldn’t breathe properly: ‘There’s something about you, Hank.’

  ‘That’s nice, honey,’ I said. ‘So soothing. Don’t stop.’

  Her cool hand still gently stroked my forehead. And her other hand was suddenly urgently busy, unbuttoning the frock front, loosening it from around her.

  Just for a moment she stopped stroking my forehead while she entirely discarded the frock. Then she was crouched alongside me, her face looking down into mine, the soft white flesh of her waist enveloped in a mysterious haze of frothy underclothing, smooth sleek thighs quivering with an urgent strength and glistening beneath the lights.

  ‘It’s nice,’ I said dreamily. ‘Don’t stop.’

  Her cool fingers caressed my forehead again. It soothed my aching head.

  It was cleansing like cool water washing away sweaty perspiration. My body was tired, my limbs were tired, my brain was tired. And suddenly it was like lying on a cloud. There was a gentle breeze blowing on me and the soft sun warming me. There was soft music dreaming in my ears and a pleasant stimulation of my emotions.

  Hot smoky eyes were staring down into mine. Her teeth were white between moist, parted lips. My eyes brushed between the hard, vibrant curve of her breasts, over the soft skin of her belly to where her hand was fumbling with that mysterious concealing froth of underclothing that was miraculously and slowly slipping away to reveal more mysterious and subtle curves.

  Her cool hand was still gently caressing my forehead. I was still on a cloud. There was still soft music in my ears and a soft, gentle stimulation of my emotions.

  Her hot eyes stared down into mine. ‘Hank,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Won’t you … can’t you …?’ her voice broke off into a kinda moan, and as she wriggled her body, silk rippled along her thighs, over her knees and around her ankles.

  ‘Hank,’ she said fiercely, and she gave a kinda fierce moan. ‘I want you, Hank.’

  My eyes slipped between the cleavage of her breasts towards dark, subtle hollows. Her cool hand still gently caressed my forehead. The cloud was a beautiful whirl of soft emotion, soft music and peace.

  I fell asleep.

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