Ladies of Chance

Chapter 13

There was a light in 306 when we went up to my room. That meant that Pete was on the job. Kitty was very quiet and submissive. She seemed to be doing a lot of thinking on the drive. I didn’t interrupt, figuring that the more thinking she did, the more talkative mood she’d work herself into.

I flashed on the light and took Kitty’s coat. She stood in the center of the floor and looked at me trustingly. I maneuvered her to a deep chair near the planted dictograph, pulled one up close to her and lit us a couple of cigarettes.

“Would you like a drink to break the tension?” I motioned toward my shelf of drinkables.

“Not... just now.” Her eyes were wide, fixed on mine; reminding me of the eyes of a doe I once shot by mistake.

I had to cut the doe’s throat to put her out of her misery. I said to Kitty:

“You’ve got yourself in a hell of a mess, sister.”

She didn’t say anything; just looked at me.

“Drinking poison is a lousy out,” I went on.

Her hand went up to her throat. “And I even failed at that.”

“They can’t stand that sort of publicity in a gambling joint.”

“I should have waited until I got outside.” Her eyes were still wide, staring.

“How did you get inside in the first place?”

“I met a lady at the hotel who told me how I could easily make a lot of money... and I needed a lot of money desperately.” Her underlip began to quiver.

“I’m your friend,” I told her hastily. “Don’t worry about it any more. Everything’s going to be all right. Maybe I can even help you get your money back.”

“Oh... if you only could!”

“I’ll have to have your cooperation.”

“What can I do to help?” She leaned close, her eyes shining.

I decided to play a long shot on the kid. If I had her figured right, it was the only way to get her to talk. I said:

“I pulled a fast one on Stormy Parker back there at the joint. He thinks I’m going to square your debt by bringing men to you. As a matter of fact, I’m out to smash the syndicate back of the joint.”

“You’re a policeman?” She drew away from me.

“Nothing like that, sister. Call me a private investigator with a personal grudge. Maybe I had a girl that went the same way you’re headed and don’t know it.”

She was twisting her fingers together nervously. “I’ll tell you anything I can.”

“What do you know about the inside workings of the ring? Behind Parker?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. He was the one who arranged to let me have money to keep on gambling after I’d lost all I had.”

“You’re not going to be much help,” I told her roughly. “It looks as though I wasted my time bringing you here.”

“You mean... you won’t help me?” Her voice was piteous.

“Not unless you can do something for me, sister.”

“But what can I do? I’ve told you all I know.”

“That’s just too bad. I thought maybe you’d got behind the scenes and knew some names.” I stood up disgustedly, went to the shelf and poured myself a drink.

Kitty sank back in her chair with a moan. She had gotten her hopes high, and I suppose it was tough on her to see them come tumbling down again. I sipped some cognac and watched her.

Her lips were quivering when she turned to me. “Were you... just fooling Mr. Parker when you brought me away?”

“Didn’t I tell you I was?”

She stood up. Damned if there wasn’t a misty sort of exaltation on her face. The old martyrs must have had it when the faggots began to crackle under them. I’ve a hunch Joan of Arc looked like that.

“Would you... change your mind?”

She moved toward me, her lips parted, her eyes offering me everything a woman has to offer a man she doesn’t love.

“For two grand?” I tried to laugh. My lips were too dry. I had forgotten about Pete listening in on the dictograph in the other room.

“That’s what Mr. Parker meant, wasn’t it? When he said I could earn the money easily.”

“That’s what he meant, sister.”

“I have to earn the money.” She was close to me. A faint perfume came from her hair. “I have to.” She spaced the words evenly.

I put down the rest of my cognac. The warm glow spreading through me wasn’t wholly due to the drink.

“You were ready to step out of the picture an hour ago,” I reminded her.

“That was... before I had a chance to think. Before I... knew there was any possible way I could get the money back.”

“Don’t do it, sister. Money can’t be that important to a kid like you.” That’s what my lips said. My hands were reaching out for her. I took hold of her arms just above the elbows. I swear I didn’t pull. But she was pressing against me. She was saying, in a new, hard voice that had come to her all of a sudden:

“It is that important. I did something terrible when I gambled with that money. It wasn’t mine. Mother is ill and she’s coming here for an operation next week. It... was going to pay for making her well.”

The softness of her was burning into my blood. I looked over her head and said:

“Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

“I won’t regret it.” She was passionately eager for me to believe her. “Not if you’re the one. At least, the first one. Show me how... I can make some money.”

She lifted up her face beneath mine. There wasn’t any fear in her eyes. That same look of exaltation. Not so misty, now.

I said: “Goddamn,” and backed away from her to pour myself another drink. I spilled some on the floor. She took the glass away from me. Tipped it up and drained it without a sputter. Ninety-four proof cognac.

I said: “Listen, sister. I haven’t got any two grand. Go to a man who can make it worth your while. No use your giving stuff away if you’re really going on the make.”

“But you told me you might be able to help me get my money back. I thought...”

“That was when I thought you could spill some dope that was worth money to... the people who’re hiring me.” I was sweating.

She faltered: “It might be easier... the first time... if you didn’t have money.”

“Don’t you know anyone that might be mixed up with the gang who could dish out the inside dope?”

“I... not unless Janet would be willing to tell you.”

“Janet who?”

“She calls herself Mrs. Carhart here. When I knew her at Vassar, her name was Janet Ettinge.”

“Wait a minute. Janet Ettinge! What part does she play?”

“I thought I told you. She’s the one who took me there first. We’re staying at the same hotel on the beach.”

“How deep is she in?”

“She works there, somehow. I don’t know exactly. I’ve seen her there several evenings.”

I said: “This may be the break I’ve been waiting for. If it is... I’ll see that your mother has her operation.” I moved toward the telephone. “Does this Janet happen to hail from Newark?”

“I... believe her folks used to live there.”

“What’s her hotel phone number?” I had my hand on the receiver.

“But I’m afraid she won’t tell you anything. She’s... changed a lot from when I knew her.”

“Leave it to me to get her to talk. What’s the number?”

Kitty told me. I called it and asked for Mrs. Carhart. She was out. I left a message for her to call me as soon as she came in. Then I hung up and turned to Kitty.

“If this turns out the way I hope, you won’t have anything to worry about.”

She sank down in a chair. The glow was fading from her face. “You mean... I won’t have to do the other?”

“That’s what I mean, Kitty Lane.” I moved over and poured myself a drink, going on conversationally: “Though your suggestion about not getting paid was pretty swell.”

She came over and had a drink with me. “I still think it is... a good suggestion.”

I looked down into her eyes and knew I was being a blasted fool. I walked near the dictograph and said loudly:

“There won’t be anything doing until a certain Janet calls me and I persuade her to come here and talk things over. That should mean plenty of fireworks and will be worth waiting for.” I went over to a table and threw the switch that cut out the dictograph.

Then went back to Kitty and quit being a blasted fool.