Knight made a bleating sound with his lips but no words came forth. Suddenly there was a diversion. Eva stiffened, crouched. An inner door to the right of Narcissa opened. Jake Mund stood there with Nina beside him. Deer-man was behind them.
Eva looked at them and her teeth showed. “Jake! This is swell, swell! Now we’re all here. Come in, come in!”
“Dad!” It was Nina. She ran across the room, flung her arms about the quivering old man. “Dad, you’re hurt! Is anything—”
“Let go of him!” Eva snapped. “Just step aside. Yeah. Now watch me cut him down. Just like—”
The Parson realized that there was no time to go for his gun. Something quicker was needed. He saw Eva’s gun move until it was on a line with Major Rowe’s heart, saw her finger whiten under pressure on the trigger. Nina screamed. The Parson was about to fling himself out of his chair.
Jake, from the doorway, moved faster. He hurtled across the room under Eva’s gun. Her trigger finger twitched. The gun blasted and a slug burned Jake’s ribs. Almost perceptibly it seemed to halt him. He shivered but came on doggedly. He hit her sidewise and she flung into a corner.
Narcissa got her gun up and shot her twice in the chest. Eva’s shoulders hit hard into the V of the corner; she was grinning.
Knight was throwing himself toward the open doorway that led to the deck. It was that which brought forth the grin.
Eva shot him in the back.
The gun action jolted her away from the corner. Her feet tangled but with her left hand she caught the table and stopped her fall. She bumped against the major, held herself erect. Knight was falling through the door. She shot him again.
The Parson had jerked his Luger out His mouth was pulled down grimly. Before he could fire, Eva moved her head slowly toward him; the grin was still on her face. Then her knees buckled, struck the floor. She pitched forward on her face.
It was deafeningly still in the cabin. Gun smoke swirled to the overhead light. Water lapped gently against the boat’s side. Jake Mund got to his feet slowly, his handsome young face grave and haggard.
Nina fluttered to him. “Jake, are you hurt?” She began to cry.
He sank into a chair, smiled wanly, put his hands on her cheeks. “Don’t cry, sugar. I’m all right. Everything’s all right. You’ve got your Dad now and we got the Parson. He’ll make it all right. The Parson’s our friend.”
The Parson moved out to the deck. Deerman followed him. A crowd was gathering on the pier. Deerman looked out over the water. The Parson said, “You tipped off Major Rowe, didn’t you?”
Deerman nodded. “I got to thinkin’ after I tied up that boy and girl. I listened in at the cabin door while they was talkin’. It was mostly about her father Major Rowe and how she was scared he’d come to take her home. So I just went aroun’ to all the hotels in Cariba until I found a man answerin’ to the name, Major Rowe. That boy and girl was in trouble and I figured her father ought to know about it.”
“But weren’t you afraid he’d go to the cops?”
“Ah, he was a gentleman. He promised to tell the cops nothin’ until the whole thing was cleared. He was to have come aboard and gotten them himself and the police’d never know I was mixed up in it. When he came aboard a little while ago, why I just went back and untied them an’ brought them in here. Glad I did, too. That young feller handled that red-head woman good.”
“Yeah,” said the Parson thoughtfully. “I guess he’s got guts at that.” He looked pleased. “But why did you mix in the mess at all?”
“Well, the fishin’ this time of year is poor and that feller Knight’s five hundred looked big.”
“Hm. But how come you went to the major at all after Knight had paid you five hundred to be on his side?”
Deerman cocked his head to one side as if that were something to puzzle over. “I’m damned if I know, ’cept I got to thinkin’, I guess, an’ I don’t mind makin’ a dollar by winkin’ at the law but when you got a chance to make a little honest money and help out a couple of kids just married besides, well I guess that’s all there’s to it.”
“Yeah,” said the Parson, “I know just how you feel.”
Jake Mund appeared beside him and said, “Parson, I don’t know how I’m going to thank you.”
“Phht! Listen, once. The cops will be here in a jiffy. Here’s your story. You weren’t tied, see? Deerman’s a friend who gave you shelter because you were afraid of Carl Dorn and Eva and Joel Knight. That’s the mugg Eva shot. Got it straight?”
Mund’s face darkened. “You’re wrong. Deerman crossed us.”
“You listen to me,” the Parson said savagely. “Deerman’s your friend. You’ll find out why soon enough. You’ll do as I say. Is that clear?”
Mund looked at him. “All right,” he said.
“How’s your side?” asked the Parson with unexpected gentleness.
“All right, I guess.”
“Hurt much?”
“No.”
“Then why in hell ain’t you in there with your wife?”
“No,” said Mund. “I guess they caught up with us. She’ll be going back with her father.”
“Listen,” said the Parson. “I blew fifty grand getting you clear of Carl Dorn. I could’ve had the dough. All I had to do was take it. I’ll be damned if I don’t have to get you out of this, too.”
“What are you talking about?”
The Parson gripped his arm. “Come on.” He pushed into the cabin, dragging Mund behind him. “Listen!” his voice crackled. Major Rowe and Nina looked up. “This kid’s gone through hell with your daughter. If you think you’re going to snatch her back home and leave him behind, you got another think coming. These two belong together. Why, he even saved your life a few minutes ago.”
“Don’t yell,” said the major. “Nina’s been telling me about him. Jake, I’m proud of you! Will you shake hands?” The Parson turned to go. “Wait a moment. Nina’s explained about you, too. Jake told her. I don’t know if I can repay you for all you’ve done but if money will help.”
“Money? Money!” said the Parson. “Mister, I could fall over with surprise at that crack.”
He stalked out on deck. The crowd had parted and two big policemen in white drill jackets and blue trousers were pounding toward the boat with beefy determination.
The Parson moved forward to meet them at the rail.
Face Work
by Cornell Woolrich
Beauty plus brains makes a deadly weapon.
I had on my best hat and my warpaint when I dug into her bell. You’ve heard make-up called that a thousand times, but this is one time it rated it; it was just that — warpaint.
I caught Ruby Rose Reading at breakfast time — hers, not mine. Quarter to three in the afternoon. Breakfast was a pink soda-fountain mess, a tomato-and-lettuce, both untouched, and an empty glass of Bromo Seltzer, which had evidently had first claim on her. There were a pair of swell ski slides under her eyes; she was reading Gladys Glad’s beauty column to try to figure out how to get rid of them before she went out that night and got a couple more. A smoke had opened the door, and given me a yellowed optic. “Yes ma’am, who you wish to see?”
“I see her already,” I said, “so skip the Morse Code.” I went in up to Ruby Rose’s ten-yard line. “Wheeler’s the name,” I said, “Does it mean anything to you?”
“Should it?” She was dark and Salome-ish. She was mean. She was bad medicine. I could see his finish right there, in her eyes. And it hadn’t been any fun to dance at Texas Guinan’s or Larry Fay’s when I was sixteen, to keep him out of the orphan asylum or the reformatory. I hadn’t spent most of my young girlhood in a tinseled G-string to have her take apart what I’d built up, just to see what made him tick.