Free 12 Chinks and A Woman by James Hadley Chase Page B

at the table.
     Bugsey suddenly appeared from nowhere and tagged along behind Fenner. Fenner turned his head, saw him and stopped. Bugsey drew up with him, and they went on together.
     Fenner said, “Quite a racket this, ain't it?”
     Bugsey nodded. “It's all right if you're some big-shot,” he said, without enthusiasm. “I ain't gettin' places.”
     Fenner looked at him sideways, thoughtfully. “Ain't you gettin' anything out of this?”
     “Sure, sure,” Bugsey said hastily. “I'm not grumblin'.”
     They wandered along the waterfront. Fenner thought this guy looked simple. He began to get ideas. He said, “What's your rake-off?”
     Bugsey said, “A hundred bucks.”
     “That's chicken-feed.”
     “Sure, but it's tough these days.”
     Fenner agreed that it was.
     They moved along the waterfront, idly watching the shipping. Fenner paused suddenly. He regarded a large luxury motor-launch that was lying off the short jetty. He said, “Swell boat.”
     Bugsey screwed up his eyes. “Yeah,” he said wistfully. “I'd like a tub like that.”
     Fenner looked at him curiously. “What in hell would you do with it, anyway?” he asked.
     Bugsey heaved a sigh. “Me? I'd get a flock of dames an' I'd take 'em out in that tub. When I got in the middle of the Strait every one of 'em would have to jump through the hoop or swim home. That's what I'd do.”
     Fenner wasn't listening to him, he was staring at a girl who had come up from the big cabin. She was a red-gold blonde with a high-breasted body, long legs, and long, narrow feet. She wore white trousers, red sandals and a red high-necked jersey. Fenner felt a little prickle of excitement. He knew who she was. He could see the points of likeness. He had come upon Marian Daley's sister.
     Bugsey noticed her too. He whistled softly. “What a frill!” he said.
     Fenner said, “Know who she is?”
     “Me? Don't make me laugh. Think I'd be standin' here if I did?” Bugsey looked at her wistfully. Then he said, “Think the breastworks are the McCoy, or is it a French trick?”
     Fenner didn't hear him. He saw the name on the boat, Nancy W, and he wandered on. “Havin' you around cramps my style,” he said. “Alone, I'd've made that dame.”
     Bugsey sneered. “You wouldn't've got to first base. A frill like that's class She's got no time for hoods.”
     Fenner led him to a bar. “All the same, pal, I'm goin' to have a try,” he said.
     When the barman came to take the order, Fenner said, “That's a swell boat out there.”
     The bartender stared vacantly out through the open door and nodded. “What'll you have?” he said.
     Fenner ordered two gin slings. When the bartender brought them back he tried again. “Who owns her?”
     The bartender scratched his head. “What boat is it?”      “Nancy W.”
     “Sure, that's a swell boat. Thayler's the guy. He's gotta heap of jack.”
     Bugsey sighed. “You'd wantta heap of jack to rate a dame like that.”
     “Thayler? What's his line?” Fenner went on.
     The bartender shrugged. “Just spends dough. One of these rich playboys, I guess.”
     “Does he live around here?”
     “A gay don't want to live around here when he's got a boat like that, does he?”
     Fenner lowered half the gin sling. “Who's the dame?”
     The barman grinned. “I can't keep up with them,” he said. “I guess that guy's got a contract with the authorities to test them.”
     Bugsey said, “That's a swell job. Maybe he could do with a little help.”
     Fenner said, “Where can you meet a guy like that?”
     “Meet him? He gets about. He's out a lot at Noolen's Casino.”
     “So, Noolen's got a casino, eh?” Fenner said, looking