Ladies of Chance

Chapter 12

There was a big office behind the door. The girl sat opposite a man at the flat-topped desk. Her face was ghastly white, her eyes piteous. One hand played with a string of beads at her throat. She looked at me without seeing me as I eased in.

The man was talking. He was half-turned from the door. The same athletic shoulders I had seen going from Cherry’s apartment. Stormy Parker. His voice was quiet and strong:

“...we’re sorry, Miss Lane, but we can’t possibly advance you any more cash on your personal IOU’s. I explained this to you before you began playing this evening.”

“Then why didn’t you let me do it?” The girl’s face was working. The hand playing with the beads jerked and beads spattered on the floor. “I’ve nothing to live for. I’m ruined... disgraced. What right had you and your men to keep me from doing the only thing left to me?”

“And leave us holding the bag?” Stormy’s voice was suave. “Are we supposed to twiddle our fingers for the two grand we’ve advanced you?”

“That’s all you can do anyway,” she told him hopelessly. “I warned you I had no way of paying if I lost.”

“I think we can arrange that.” Stormy turned his head and saw me standing against the door. He had superb control of his facial muscles. There was no indication that he hadn’t known I was there all the time.

“What do you want?” He had cold blue eyes and white teeth in a tanned face. Wavy blond hair was brushed back from a wide forehead. But for the saving impression of virile strength, he was handsome enough to have posed for a subway collar ad.

I walked into the room and took a chair. “I happened to witness the scene in the roulette room.”

Stormy kept on looking at me. Just that. As though he was only casually interested in my presence. But I saw his hand slide toward an open desk drawer.

He said: “This is a private office.”

“Such matters are best discussed in private,” I agreed.

“This isn’t your party.” His hand moved away from the drawer, hovered over a button on his desk.

“I had hoped to make it mine,” I told him mildly. “Ladies in distress are a specialty of mine.”

“So?” His hand stayed above the button.

“Please,” the girl gasped piteously, “may I go now?”

“To take another crack at suicide?” Stormy growled. “No.”

The girl half rose from her chair. She opened her mouth to scream. Stormy was up and had his hand over her mouth before the scream got well started. He pushed her back — hard.

She bit his hand. He cursed in a monotone and slapped her. I smiled as though I found the scene amusing. Lit a cigarette and murmured:

“I envy you your finesse in handling women, Mr. Parker.”

He sat down without a quickened breath. “Where did you learn my name?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “It was mentioned during a discussion at the club the other night.”

“What club?”

“The Biltmore.”

That stopped him for a moment. The suspicion went out of his eyes. His voice became heartier:

“In what connection?”

I raised my eyebrows in the direction of the girl who had dropped her head to the desk and was sobbing.

Stormy nodded thoughtfully.

I said: “Could I have a moment with you privately?”

He got up and said harshly to the sobbing girl: “I’m going to lock the outer door. Stay right here and think things over.” He went to the door and locked it.

I walked to the girl’s side and touched her cheek with my fingertips. “It’s going to be all right, sweetheart.” Stormy led the way into an inner office and closed the door.

“What’s your racket, fellow?”

I sat down and puffed on my cigarette, doing my damnedest to act like a wealthy young clubman on the trail of an amorous adventure.

“I thought you were the one with the racket.”

“Say what you’ve got to say.”

I waved my cigarette negligently toward the outer office. “I like the looks of the girl out there.”

“Yeh. She’s a honey.” Stormy continued to study me.

“She seems to be at the end of her rope.”

“Yeh. That’s what she thinks now. With a chance to think it over, and an out, she’ll be like all the other dames.”

“You think her attempted suicide was just a gag?”

“Hell, no.”

“You must have handled plenty of them like her.”

“Plenty.”

“The friends I mentioned at the club gave me to understand that you... er... sometimes made it possible for girls like her to repay the money you’ve advanced them.”

“Why not? Is the house supposed to hold the bag?”

“Not at all,” I said hastily. “I was told that I might pick up something pretty nice here. But I didn’t expect to run into anything like her.”

“We get all kinds. Hell, I’m doing the dames a favor if I line ’em up to where they can make some easy jack instead of giving it away.”

“Of course.” I ground out my cigarette. “As a matter of fact, Mr. Parker, I had a vague idea of putting a business proposition to you when I came here tonight... until the sight of this girl in distress threatened to drive all thoughts of business out of my head.”

“Yeh? What sort of proposition?”

“It must be rather difficult for you to find suitable... er... clients for the young ladies who are looking for what you aptly termed an out.”

“Go on talking.”

“To put it baldly, my acquaintanceship is quite extensive among the young bloods in Miami. The sort of fellows who think nothing of paying a thousand dollars to the right girl for the right sort of evening’s entertainment. It was my thought that we might come to an understanding whereby I could arrange such affairs advantageously.”

“You do the pimping, eh?”

“Please.” I waved my hand with an embarrassed smile.

“Okay. Call it any other name and it doesn’t sound so bad. If you can produce results, we might get together.”

“I can guarantee results. I... the mutuals haven’t been kind to my pocketbook this season.”

Stormy nodded wisely. He was sizing me up, and was pleased with the picture he was getting.

“I’ll have to talk it over with... the boss. But it listens good. What did you say your name was?”

“Barlow. E. Barlow. I’m stopping at the Clairidge. You can call me there.”

“Yeh. Suppose I buzz you tomorrow after I talk it over and see what can be done.” He got up.

“And this girl in the other room?”

He grinned goatishly. “Take her along with you tonight for a sample of what we got to offer. Her name’s Lane. Kitty Lane. She’s in a couple of grand. You can break her in easy... show her the ropes. I don’t think she’s been around much but I don’t think you’ll be breaking anything. She’s not married, so go easy.”

“Indeed I will.” We went back to the outer office. The girl had quit crying. She stared at us dully.

Stormy said briskly: “This is Mr. Barlow, Miss Lane. He’s fallen for you hard and fixed it up about those notes you owe us. Don’t worry about them any more. Run along with him and don’t make him sorry he helped you out.”

“But I... I couldn’t,” Kitty Lane faltered.

“Everything’s arranged,” I told her cheerfully. I went to her, took her hand and pulled her up from the chair. “Don’t worry your sweet little head about anything. I’ll take care of you,” in my best walk-into-my-parlor manner.

“I don’t know you. I don’t understand.” She tried to pull her hand away, staring at me as though she guessed my intentions might not be strictly honorable.

I pulled her close and put my arm around her shaking shoulders. “I’ll explain everything when we’re alone.”

She shook her head in bewilderment and let me lead her out of the office. We went down the hall toward the stairs.

A party of three women reached the top of the stairs as we got there. Cherry was between two middle-aged women whose faces were alight with sinful anticipation. She gave me a scornful look and brushed past. I went on down the stairs and out to my car. Kitty Lane got in without a word of remonstrance and I drove to the first drug store where I parked and went in to a pay station.

I caught Pete Ryan at his rooming house.

“Get out to my hotel in a hurry,” I told him. “The same room. Take along a couple of witnesses and get the dope. I’m bringing a frail up.”

Without giving him any time to ask questions, I went back to Kitty and drove to the hotel in a roundabout way to give him time to get planted with his witnesses.