12 Chinamen and a Woman

by 12 Chinamen

  Reiger and Carlos were like frozen statues. They just stared at Fenner with fixed glassy eyes.

  Fenner said, “I want you,” to Carlos.

  The ash from Carlos' cigarette fell on his chest. He looked wildly at Reiger and then back to Fenner. “Gimme a break,” he said hoarsely.

  Fenner said, “Shut up. I've been layin' for you two. Now you're going to get what's coming to you. I'm not going to do it. You two guys can do it to yourselves. You can fight it out. The one who wins goes out of this joint. I won't touch him. Maybe you've heard I keep my word. Either that, or I'll knock the two of you off.”

  Reiger relaxed suddenly. He said, “I kill him and you don't touch me?” he sounded incredulous.

  Carlos crouched further against the wall. “Reiger!” he screamed. “Don't do it!” I'm your boss, do you hear? You're not to do it.”

  Reiger got slowly out of his chair, he had a fixed grin on his face.

  Fenner said, “Wait. Put your mitts up and face the wall.”

  Reiger scowled at him, but Fenner rammed his gun hard into his side. He put his hands up and turned round. Fenner took a gun out of his hip pocket and stepped back. “Stay there an' don't move.” He went over to Carlos, grabbed him by his shirt front and dragged him off the bed. A quick frisk told him Carlos hadn't a gun.

  Fenner walked to the corner of the room near the door and leaned against the wall. “What you waiting, for? Don't one of you want to go home?”

  Carlos began to scream at Reiger, but the look on Reiger's face told him he'd have to fight. Reiger, his hand held low, a set animal expression on his face, began to stalk after Carlos who circled the room swearing in a soft continuous flow. The room was too small to keep that up long. Reiger suddenly rushed in blindly, grabbing Carlos round the waist. Carlos screamed with terror, beat Reiger about his head with his clenched fists and tried to get away. Reiger began to hit Carlos in the ribs, driving in punches that sounded hollow. They swayed round the room, punching and mauling each other, then Carlos' heel caught in the mat and he went over with Reiger on top of him. Reiger grabbed him by his ears and hammered his head on the boards.

  He turned his head and grinned at Fenner. “I've got the louse now,” he panted. “By God, I've got him now!”

  Carlos reached up with his hands and drove two hooked fingers into Reiger's eyes, then he ripped down. Dug in again and scratched and ripped once more. A horrible sound issued from Reiger's chest and burst from his mouth in a sobbing croak. He fell away from Carlos. Holding one hand to his eyes and beating the air with the other, he began to blunder round the room. Carlos crawled to his feet, shook his head and waited for Reiger to go past him again. As he did so, he shot out a foot and brought Reiger down. Reiger fell on his face and lay there, moaning and kicking with his feet.

  Carlos had forgotten that Fenner was in the room. He saw only Reiger. Dropping on Reiger's back, he pinned him with his knees and fastened his red fingers round Reiger's throat. Then, with his knee planted in the middle of Reiger's back, he began to drag Reiger slowly backwards.

  Reiger beat on the floor with his hands, his eyes bolting out of his head. Carlos said, “Here it comes,” savagely, and flung all his weight into a vicious pull. Reiger gurgled, groped feebly for Carlos'-hands and then went limp. A faint snapping sound came and blood ran out of Reiger's mouth. Carlos threw him away and stood up trembling.

  Fenner leaned against the wall, covering Carlos with his gun. “You're lucky,” he said. “Beat it before I change my mind. Go on—dust, you—”

  Carlos took two staggering steps to the door and flung it open. Fenner heard him blundering downstairs and he heard him fumbling at the lock. He stood, his head on one side, listening. Then out of the night came a sound of two Thompsons firing. Both gave a long burst, then there was silence.

  Fenner put his gun away slowly and groped for a cigarette. “I guess I've had about enough of this burg. I'll go home and take Paula out for a change,” he said to himself. He climbed out of the skylight and let himself down the iron ladder. As he did so he heard the sound of a car starting. It was Alex and Kemerinski calling it a day.

  He went round and looked at Carlos. He had a tidy mind. He had had no doubt that those two would do a good job, but he liked to be sure. He need not have bothered. They'd done a good job. He brushed down his clothes with his hand, thinking busily, then he turned and walked back towards Noolen's place.

  Noolen started out of his chair when Fenner came in. He said, “What happened?”

  Fenner looked at him. “What do you think? They're horse flesh—both of them. Where's Glorie?”

  Noolen wiped his face with his handkerchief. “Dead? Both of them?” He couldn't believe it.

  Fenner repeated impatiently, “Where's Glorie?”

  Noolen put two trembling hands on the desk. “Why?”

  “Where is she, damn you!” Fenner's eyes were intent and ice-cold.

  Noolen pointed. “She's upstairs. You can leave her out of this, Fenner. I'm goin' to look after her now.”

  Fenner sneered. “What's the idea? You're not falling for any line of repentance she's likely to hand out, are you?”

  Noolen's face went a faint red. “I don't want any cheap cracks from you,” he said. “After all, she's my wife.”

  Fenner pushed back his chair. “For God's sake,” he said, getting to his feet, “there's no fool like an old fool! okay, if that's the way it stands.” He shrugged. “Quite a dame, this Glorie. Off with the dead money bags and on with the new.”

  Noolen sat there, his hooded eyes fixed, and his mouth a little twisted. He said, “Cut out your cracks, Fenner; I don't like them.”

  Fenner turned to the door. “I'm going to see that dame,” he said. “Where shall I find her?”

  Noolen shook his head. “You ain't,” he said, “Start somethin' here and you'll get a heap of grief.”

  “So? Okay, then I don't see her; but I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll be back in an hour's time with the cops and a warrant for her arrest.”

  Noolen sneered. “You got nothing on that dame,” he said.

  “Sure, I haven't. Only a murder rap. Still, what's a murder rap? Small change in your circle.”

  Noolen's fat hands twitched, and his puffy face took on a greenish tinge. “What are you talkin' about?” he said, with stiff lips.

  Fenner moved to the door. “You'll know. I haven't time to play around with you. I either see her now, or see her in jail. I don't give a damn which way it is.”

  Noolen's face glistened in the light of the desk lamp. He said, “Top door on the right upstairs.”

  Fenner said, “I won't be long, and you stay right where you are.” He went out and shut the door behind him.

  When he got to the door en the right at the head of the stairs, he turned the handle and walked in. Glorie started up from a chair, her face white, and her mouth making a big O in her face.

  Fenner shut the door and leaned against it. “Keep your stockings up,” he said slowly. “You and me are just going to have a little talk, that's all.” She dropped back in the chair.

  “Not now,” she said, her voice tight. “It's late—I want to go to sleep ... I'm tired ... I told him downstairs not to let anyone up.”

  Fenner selected a chair opposite her and sat down. He pushed his hat to the back of his head and dug in his vest-pocket for a packet of cigarettes. He shook two loose and offered them.

  She said, “Get out of here! Get out of here! I don't want—”

  Fenner took one of the cigarettes and put the packet back in his pocket. He said, “Shut up!” Then he lit the cigarette and blew a thin cloud of smoke up to the ceiling. “You an' me are going to have a little talk. I'm talking first, then you are.”

  She got out of the chair and started for the door, but Fenner reached out, caught her wrist and pulled her round. She swung blindly for his face with hooked finger-nails. He caught her hand, imprisoned her two wrists in one hand and smacked her face with his other hand.
Four red bars appeared on the side of her face, and she said, “Oh!”

  He let go of her hands and pushed her away roughly. “Sit down and shut up!”

  She sat down, her hand touching her cheek gently. She said, “You're going to be sorry for that.”

  Fenner eased himself in the chair so that it creaked. “That's what you think,” he said, yawning. “Let me tell you another little story. It's a story about a nasty little girl and a Chinaman. It'll slaughter you.”

  She clenched her fists and pounded them on her knees. “Stop! I know what you're going to say. I don't want to hear!”—

  Fenner said, “For you, there has never been anyone but Chang. He was everything t© you. When Carlos killed him, your life stopped. Nothing mattered to you. All you had to live for was to get even with Carlos for taking away the one thing that made your horrible life worth while. That's right, isn't it?”

  She put her hands over her face and shivered, then she said, “Yes.”

  “Thayler and you went to New York for a short trip. You couldn't even be parted from Chang for a few days, so he came up and you saw him, when Thayler was busy elsewhere. Carlos sent two of his Cubans and they found Chang and killed him. That's right, too, isn't it?”

  “They came in the night when I was with him,” she said. Her voice was expressionless. “One of them held me while the other cut his throat. I was there when they did it. They said they'd kill me if he resisted, so he just lay on the bed and let that awful Cuban cut his throat. Somehow, he managed to smile at me when he was doing it. Oh, God, if you could have been there! If you could have seen him lying there with the Cuban bending over him. The sudden look of terror and pain in his eyes as he died! I could do nothing, but I swore that I'd get Carlos, I would smash everything he had built up.

  Fenner yawned again. He was feeling tired. “You're not very nice,” he said. “I can't feel any pity for you, because you always thought of yourself first. If you were really fine you would have had your revenge, even if it brought you down too, but you hadn't the guts to lose what you already had, so you had to plot and plan to keep Thayler and get Carlos thrown to the wolves.”

  Glorie began to cry.

  Fenner went on, “While this was going on, Thayler had found himself a new toy. Thayler was a nasty bit of work too. There was a girl called Lindsay. Maybe he met her at a party. He liked her and somehow he got her to go to his house. He knew you weren't about and he persuaded her to drop in. I can guess what happened but you can tell me. He attacked her, didn't he? His usual stuff with a whip?”

  Glorie went on crying.

  “Well, he overdid it, didn't he? She died. When you got home, after Chang had been killed, you found Thayler running in circles with a corpse on his hands. That's the way it went, isn't it?”

  “Yes.” She put her handkerchief to her eyes and began to rock herself backwards and forwards.

  “You found the Lindsay dame dead, and her body badly cut by Thayler's whipping. Now, baby, it's your turn. Shoot! What did you do?”

  Glorie said, “You know all about it. Why ask me?”

  “But why did you come to me?”

  “I heard about you. I thought I saw my chance of saving Harry and starting trouble for Carlos. I heard you were tough and wouldn't stop at anything. I got a black wig, and wore simple clothes and came to you. I thought if—”

  “You came to me as Marian Daley. You said your sister was missing. You thought if I took up the case I'd start eventually on Carlos. You gave me the hint. You said twelve Chinamen, because they always ship Chinamen over in dozens from Cuba, and I'd be smart enough to see that that was Carlos's racket. You planned with Thayler to have the Lindsay dame's body, without arms or legs or head, planted somewhere where I could find it, and I'd think that it was the body of Marian Daley. Since Marian never existed, Thayler couldn't be tried for killing a non-existent person. So you tried to establish an identity between Marian and the body. To do this you got Thayler to fake up marks on your back, and when you came to see me, he telephoned to give you an excuse for undressing. I saw the marks, and naturally enough they impressed me. It was a rotten plan, and it could never have held water court of law, but you might have confused the issue if you'd have played cards right. But Thayler made mistakes.

  “He wanted to get the body cut up and taken away from his house. He wanted to get your identity established with me as quickly as possible, otherwise the fact that the body, when found, could have proved that it couldn't have been yours from a doctor's evidence of time of death. First, you had to see me, then I was to be held up for a day or so, to give him time to set the stage the way he wanted. To hold me up, he planted Chang on me. You didn't know this. He got his Cubans to take Chang along and put him in my office, hoping that the cops would come up and hold me for questioning. I beat him to it. Found out where the Cubans came from, got there, killed them before they could get rid of one of the hands and arms of the Lindsay dame. By slipping up like that, he made a complete mess of things. That's the way it went, isn't it?”

  Glorie sat limply in the chair. She said, “Yes, that's right. It was a mad idea, but Harry was so scared he'd have done anything I told him to. I hadn't much time to make plans, but I thought it was an opportunity to get Carlos. I shook Harry down for ten grand. I gave you six, because I knew then that you'd follow up the case. I forged the letter giving you the necessary clues and then, when your secretary took me to the hotel, I waited my opportunity and ran away. That was the end of Marian Daley. I went back to Key West with Harry, and waited for you to come. Thayler had told the Cubans to leave the body and the clothes at the Grand Central in a trunk. We were going to give you a tip so that you could have found them. I left that to Harry, but he messed it.”

  Fenner lay back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “It was cock-eyed,” he said. “If you'd've come to see me and told me about Carlos, I'd have gone for him just the same. A guy who handles people the way he did deserves all he gets.” Glorie sat up very straight.

  “You talk as if he's dead,” she said. Fenner looked at her.

  “He's dead all right. You're lucky. Seems like you've always managed to find a sucker to do your dirty work. Anyway, it was nice to see him go.”

  Glorie drew in a long shuddering breath. She started to say something, but Fenner interrupted. “The guy who killed Lindsay's daughter is dead. You're still my client. The Lindsay business is for the cops to work out. Maybe they'll find out about Thayler. Maybe they'll even get a line on you, but I'm not helping them. As far as I'm concerned, I'm through. You can link up with Noolen and go with him as fast as you like. I don't like you, baby, an' I don't like Noolen. I'll be glad to get back home. Whatever happens to you means nothing to me. You can be sure something will happen to you. A jane with your outlook can't last long. I'll leave it like that.”

  He got up and wandered to the door, then, without looking back, he went out of the room.

  Noolen was standing in the hall, staring up, as he walked down the stairs. He didn't even bother to look at him. Out in the street he took a deep breath, pulled at his nose thoughtfully, then set off at a fast pace in the direction of the Airport.

  The End