“Can I go outside now?”

  “Sure, baby. Get to work. Sit around and smile,” he grunted. “The happier you make those boys, the more dough you’ll walk out of here with. Take it slow. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

  Terry sat at a table in one of the booths. There was a slight stir of early evening activity as working people on their way home dropped in for quick drinks. She felt self-conscious and ill at ease in the low-cut evening gown which made her look like a calendar illustration in that atmosphere. The girls began to arrive. They looked at her curiously but made no move to become acquainted. Three were blondes or near blondes, one was dark, one had red hair and strangely pale, blue eyes. She was older than the others and she had been drinking. Two men engaged the girls in loud, ribald conversation. They talked mild, suggestive smut. The girls laughed at the stale jokes—all but the red-haired one who seemed to have drunk only enough to make her morose and silent. She walked over to where Terry sat and gave her a tentative smile.

  “Welcome to the menagerie,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Terry said.

  “Name’s Lola, Lola Larsen.”

  “How do you do, Lola. I’m Terry. Terry Wade.”

  The other women saw them talking. They too came over, unable any longer to maintain the pose of indifference.

  “Terry,” Lola told them, pointing to Terry. She didn’t bother to mention the names of the others.

  “Been in town long?” one of the blondes asked.

  “Quite some time, yes,” Terry replied vaguely.

  Customers began to drift in. Somebody put a nickel in the record machine and a crooner began to wail about a hopeless love. The evening wore on.

  The bar was crowded and Terry sat between two middle-aged men who had come in drunk. They tasted the drinks they had ordered, then left them on the bar and vied with each other for her attention. She listened to details about their personal tastes in women, growing apprehensive as she found that she did not know how to make them drink and buy more drinks. She finished the glass of Scotch that stood before her and asked if she could have another. They ordered it, then argued with each other about the privilege of paying. They left their own glasses almost untouched.

  15

  The room became filled with smoke, the smell of men who did not bathe too often and the cheap perfume the girls used. The record machine played constantly now. The two men finished their drinks and ordered more which they ignored just as they had done before. She had to quit after her third Scotch. The thought of drinking any more sickened her. The men began to notice that her monosyllabic replies to their questions were mechanical, that she was not listening to them.

  “This place reminds me of a damn funeral parlor,” one told the other.

  “’S a fact,” his friend said. “Le’s get the hell out’a here.”

  They departed and Terry sat alone. The crowd began to thin out. Two of the girls—a blonde and the one called Lola—were sitting alone now, too. Lola came over and sat down next to Terry. She was drunk.

  “How ya’ doin’, honey?” she asked.

  Terry shrugged.

  “Maybe ya’ got no sex appeal, huh?” Lola laughed raucously.

  “Maybe.”

  Carrol came over and stood behind them. Lola turned a smile on him.

  “Slow night, Buck,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he said sourly.

  “Business ain’t so good,” she said sympathetically.

  He looked around the room. Some of the stools at the bar were unoccupied now. The record music seemed to echo through the place. Carrol moved off.

  “Nice feller when you get to know him,” Lola said.

  “Do you know him?” Terry asked.

  “I ought to. I’ve been here a long time. He leaves people alone. I like that, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good feller, too,” Lola went on. Her tone was maudlin now. “Helps people out without advertisin’ it.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  “You said it. We had a kid here, came in half starved. Didn’t have a dime. He put her on her feet. Didn’t ask for anything. Think he got any gratitude? No, first thing you know she was actin’ like Queen of the May. Started tearin’ around.”

  “Yes?” Terry could not suppress her eagerness.

  “Yeah,” Lola said bitterly. “She wound up in the morgue,” she added with satisfaction. “Too smart, that’s what she was.”

  “How awful! Did she have an accident?”

  “You said it. And she was gonna be a big shot. I told her she’d get the short end of the stick sooner or later. She did, too.”

  “Men,” Terry sighed tragically.

  “Yeah, men.”

  “I read about it. They found the man who killed her, didn’t they?”

  “Looks like it,” Lola chuckled. “Who’d ever ha’ thought that sucker’d be called Buzzy?”

  Terry’s glance sharpened. This was something important for sure.

  “Buzzy?” she repeated.

  “Sure. She used to tell me Buzzy’d give her half the world on a golden platter one of these days. And then this gold-plated Buzzy of hers turns out to be nothing but a bum. A stinking wino.”

  “She talked about him, did she?” Terry asked, leaning forward with interest.

  “Yeah, but you’d a thought he had something, she was so goddam mysterious about it. And then what is he? Just a bum, that’s who Buzzy was.”

  “You mean the man they pinched?”

  Lola nodded her head solemnly. She seemed to be too drunk to realize that Terry was pumping her for information. But as Terry searched for the next question to ask, without wanting to seem obvious about it, the conversation was interrupted.

  Carrol appeared. He stood in the doorway leading to the rear, looking at her. She tried not to meet his glance. But eventually she had to. He caught her eye and signaled to her to leave the bar. Then he went inside without a word.

  Lola giggled. “Looks like the boss wants you, huh, kid?”

  “Looks that way,” Terry said tightly.

  “Give him a good time,” Lola said with a leer. “That’s what he likes. A real good time.”

  “I’ll bet,” Terry said. “Excuse me.”

  She got up and crossed the room, heading in the direction Carrol had gone. He was waiting for her in the back room. He looked mean.

  “What the hell you think you’re doin’?” he demanded blusteringly. “Just sitting around on your can gassin’ with that dame.”

  Terry shrugged. “There doesn’t seem to be anything for me to do right at this particular minute,” she said cautiously.

  Carrol sneered and said, “There won’t be, either, the way you’re goin’ about it. Hell, I thought you said you could manage it.”

  “Did I?” she asked archly.

  Carrol got slowly to his feet. He was a big man, with a big man’s slowness, but Terry got the idea that he could move fast if he ever had to.

  He was nodding. “Yeah, it is pretty slow out there,” he said quietly.

  She felt his eyes boring lustfully through her clothes again. She said nothing.

  Carrol smiled. “Maybe you’re wastin’ your time anyway,” he said.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Maybe you can do better for yourself than just trying to work the stews out there. You’ve got class, you know that? You could be doing a lot better for yourself some other way.”

  “For instance?”

  “Shacking with me,” he said bluntly.

  Terry glared at him. “You’ve got big ideas, huh?”

  “I’m a fussy guy,” Carrol said. “But I like you, Terry. I could help you go places. Come here, will you? You stand over there like I got leprosy or something, you know that?”

  She shrank back nervously. He crossed the room in a couple of big strides and came close to her, extending his big paws and dragging her to him. One hand closed on her breast, squeezing it painfully through the fabric of her gown. She heard his harsh breathing, felt his big fingers trying to work their way through the fabric to the warm flesh beneath. She struggled to get away from him and finally succeeded. She stepped back, breathing hard.

  “I didn’t bargain for that,” she snapped. “I don’t like to be pawed.”

  He looked hurt. “Aw, don’t be so sensitive,” he crooned. “I ain’t hard to take. You’ll do all right with me, Terry.”

  He reached out for her again, pulling her roughly toward him. Again the big hand groped for her breasts. She felt the thick fingers probing down through her neckline. His lips were against hers. She wedged her hands against his shoulders and tried to push him away, but it was like trying to push a mountain.

  He was trying to get his hand between her breasts. When he came up for air from the kiss, he was panting harshly, like some bestial creature.

  Suddenly the door opened behind them. Carrol released her instantly. Terry saw Lola standing in the doorway, veering drunkenly from side to side.

  “Don’t be a louse, Buck,” Lola said in a wobbly voice. “Maybe the kid don’t want to play games with you. You ever figure on that?”

  Carrol was furious. “Who the hell said you could come bustin’ in here?” he growled.

  “I wanted to talk to you. I got something important to say to you.”

  “How many times I told you never open that door when it’s shut?” Carrol stormed.

  Lola was too drunk to care. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Later.”

  “Leave the poor kid alone.”

  “Christ!” Carrol bellowed. He threw up his hands. “Who you think you are, telling me what I can do and what I can’t?”

  16

  Terry didn’t wait around to see what would happen. She slipped past Carrol, through the open door.

  She found her bag in the hall where she had left it. She picked it up and hurried out, through the front of the saloon. The girls looked at her in astonishment as she rushed quickly past them.

  “Hey, Bright Eyes!” the dark one snickered derisively. “How come you’re quitting so soon?”

  Terry didn’t bother to answer. There was a cab on the corner. Terry gave the driver her address. She opened the window and the cool air rushed in, calming her a little. Still she sat on the edge of the seat, thinking frantically.

  When she returned to her apartment, the first thing she did was to telephone the office of the Gazette and ask for Lowry. It took a couple of minutes till they found him. Finally he picked up the phone.

  “Lowry speaking.”

  “I’m home,” she told him simply.

  “Terry?”

  “Who else?”

  “Quickest job you ever had, I’ll bet,” he said. “What happened?”

  “You’d better come over, I think. I’ll tell you all the gory details when you’re here. We’ll have to puzzle it out.”

  “I’m finishing up some stuff,” he said.

  “How soon will you be through?”

  “Soon as I can make it. I’ll hustle right over,” he said and hung up.

  While she waited she changed her clothes again, getting out of the gown and into something less dressy, a polo shirt and a pair of black toreador pants. Then she settled down impatiently to wait for Lowry’s arrival. Less than an hour went by, and then there was a knock at the door.

  “You finished up your work fast enough,” she said as she opened the door.

  Then she gasped.

  It wasn’t Lowry.

  It was Carrol.

  He stood in the doorway, big and menacing-looking. She started to shut the door on him, an automatic reflex. But he grabbed it and pushed it open again. He shouldered his way past her into the apartment and closed the door behind him.

  “You ain’t the only one who moves fast, sister,” he said with an ugly grin.

  “How did you get here? What do you want?” The questions tumbled off Terry’s lips.

  “The cabbie was back at his stand in no time, if you really have to know. He didn’t mind another long fare. Sit down and relax,” Carrol invited.

  “What do you want?” Terry repeated.

  “I want to know what you wanted. Sit down, I said.” It wasn’t an invitation this time, it was a blunt command. Frightened, Terry backed up until she reached the high-backed chair, and she sat down in it. He plumped down on the divan and calmly lit a cigarette. His gaze rested on the fabric of her tight polo shirt, taut against the interesting contours of her breasts.

  He said, “I almost spotted you—but not quite. Who sent you?”

  “I don’t know what on earth you’re talking about,” Terry said.

  Carrol slid forward to the edge of the divan. The glint in his eyes told the girl that he would very likely be interested in finishing his interrupted attempt at raping her. She shuddered in disgust at the idea of any kind of intimate contact with this man.

  He said, “We won’t get any place that way. From what I heard, you had trouble on your mind. I don’t like trouble, do you understand?”

  “Please leave me alone.”

  “I said I don’t like trouble. Now, what’s up? If you want to know something, why don’t you ask me? Maybe I can tell you.”

  She said nothing. His glance slowly moved up her body and then wandered away, coming to rest on the framed photograph of McKay. His face grew hard.

  “That’s what I thought,” he said. “Sister, the next time you want to pump somebody, don’t pump a stewed dame. They talk all over the place.”

  “I want you to leave me alone.”

  “I’m not through yet. You—”

  There was a sound outside the door. Carrol went suddenly tense and looked from the door to her. Terry didn’t move. There was a knock.

  “Open it,” Carrol said in a low tone.

  She went to the door. It was Lowry. A glance at his face and Terry knew he had overheard something of what had just passed between her and Carrol.

  Lowry came inside. Carrol got up, scowling at both of them.

  “Kid Seamy Side himself,” Carrol said. “Quite a coincidence, huh, Lowry?”

  “Aren’t you on the wrong side of town right now, Carrol?” Lowry asked sourly. “Not that I want to sound snobbish.”

  “Not that you want to sound off any which way, Lowry,” Carrol said menacingly. “I don’t like this business.”

  “What business?”

  “No double-talk,” Carrol snapped. “My place is well out of this McKay rap, do you get me straight? I don’t want no halfwits with ideas out of movie shows lousing things up for me.”

  “You interest me, Carrol,” Lowry said airily. “I presume you followed Miss Stafford all the way out here just to tell her that. You must be real worried to do a thing like that.”

  “Yes,” Terry put in. “I think Buzzy is worried.”

  “Buzzy?” Lowry asked curiously.

  Carrol’s face was a cold mask. “What kind of gag is that?” he asked through his teeth.

  “You are Buzzy, aren’t you, Mr. Carrol?” Terry asked innocently.

  Carrol took a quick step toward her. “Look, bimbo, something’s on your mind that ain’t gonna do you no good at all. If you think you know something I don’t know, speak up or else—” He raised his hand as if to strike her.

  “I think the lady informed me that she was no longer in your employ, Carrol,” Lowry said in a dry, tight voice. “That in itself seems reason enough why you shouldn’t have the privilege of socking her.” He moved nearer to Carrol. “To say nothing of the fact that she’s a friend of mine and you’re forgetting your manners.”

  Lowry emphasized his reprimand with a well-aimed right that caught Carrol flush on the jaw and sent him to the floor. He lay there stunned for a moment, then reached for his coat pocket.

  “Ned!” Terry screamed.

  But Lowry saw the gesture. He kicked Carrol’s hand sharply. Carrol gasped with pain as his hand remained suspended lifeless in mid-air. Lowry bent over and yanked Carrol up by the collar. He hustled him over to the door and turned his head to Terry.

  “I was right, wasn’t I, Miss Stafford, in assuming that the gentleman was not a welcome caller?”

  “You were right,” Terry said.

  Lowry opened the door and pushed Carrol out with a hearty shove that sent him banging against the wall opposite the door. Then he closed the door and bolted it.

  “Now,” he said to Terry. “All we have to do is open a window for some fresh air, and it’ll be as if he was never here.”

  “Never mind the window, Ned,” she said excitedly. “Do you think we ought to let him get away?”

  Lowry chuckled. “You don’t really want him around, do you?”

  “No, of course not, silly. But he’s the man, Ned, can’t you see?

  “I found out from one of the girls,” she added quickly. “There was a man Doris Blair called Buzzy. He was doing things for her in style or was going to. That must be Carrol. The man’s a chaser. His indifference to feminine charm is a pose.”

  “What makes you so sure of that, Terry?” Lowry asked provocatively.

  “I blundered into a room with him. I ought to know.”

  “You may be right, but you’re drawing the wrong conclusion if it’s because Carrol made a pass at you. An anchorite would do that.”

  “Ned, this is serious. Doris Blair worked for Carrol. That girl who told me about it said he had taken her in when she was starving. Who else would a girl meet in that environment who could do things for her? And who else would think of strangling her when she got to be too much of a nuisance?”

  “Sounds good, Terry. What do you suggest?”

  “Let’s go to the police.”

  Lowry shook his head. “With what except our suspicions? Do we know for a fact that Carrol kept the girl? Is there any evidence? Do you suppose the police would be interested in that kind of suspect when they’ve already got a man who’s been identified? It will take more than that before we can go to them.” He looked at his watch. “It’s late but the landlady might not throw more than a broom or two at us. Suppose we hop over to the place where Doris lived. We might find something that will shed some light.”

  “Do you know where she lived?”

  “I’ve found out that much,” he said ruefully.