I settled myself more comfortably on the carpet and dissociated myself from further activities.
I must have lain there at least ten minutes before I was disturbed again. Someone shook me gently and I was conscious of a smell of lilac. I opened one eye cautiously and found Audrey Sheridan bending over me.
Her thick tresses almost touched my face.
I dug up a low groan and firmly closed my eye. She shook me again. “Don’t be a baby,” she said. “You’re not really hurt. It’s only because you’re a little soft and out of condition. Come on, sit up. I’ve driven them away and it’s quite safe now.”
This annoyed me. I opened my eyes and regarded her coldly. “Is that a nice thing to say?” I demanded heatedly. “I get kicked, trodden on, bashed on the head and beaten up by three great thugs and you’ve got the crust to say I’m not hurt.”
She sat back on her heels, her hands resting on her thighs, and smiled. “I thought New York detectives were made of iron,” she said.
I felt my scalp gingerly. ‘“You’ve got that out of a book,” I said, raising myself on my elbow and wincing as pain stabbed through my head. “I’m a mass of bruises and shattered bones. My back’s broken and my truss’s slipped. I’ll never be able to walk again.”
She continued to regard me with the half-mocking smile. Then I remembered how Starkey had burned her with the cigarette and I gazed at her with blank incredulity. She was pale but her smile was genuine all right.
“Talking about being made of iron,” I went on, “you’re not so bad yourself.”
She looked at the livid red circle on her arm and grimaced. “That hurt,” she said. “But it wasn’t that I minded so much as the way they did it.” Her violet eyes glittered angrily. “What filthy brutes some men are!”
I looked around the disordered office, with my head in my hands and my elbows on my knees. “You wouldn’t have any hard liquor in this joint, would you?” I asked. “I could do with a shot, and it wouldn’t poison you.”
She got to her feet and moved slowly and limply across the room. From a cupboard she produced a bottle of Scotch and two glasses. She came back and flopped on the floor again.
I took the bottle from her and poured out two stiff drinks. “Hair on your chest,” I said, nodding at her.
“Hair on yours,” she said, nodding back.
We drank.
“That’s better,” I sighed, sniffing the whisky. “What happened? Did the cops come?”
She nodded. “While you were swooning on the floor, I dealt with the cops,” she said. “Trust a man to leave all the dirty work for the woman to do. I told them the ashtray slipped out of my hands. They believed me. And after I’d said what big strong men they were and how grateful I was for their kindness, they went away as smug and happy as only men can be.”
I regarded her reproachfully. “Something tells me you’re a cynic,” I said. “In my present condition I’m not in a fit state to talk to cynics. Shall we patch ourselves up and go home? Perhaps we can meet again later when I’m feeling stronger and have a long intimate talk.”
“All right,” she said, setting down her drink. “We’ll do that. Do you think you’re strong enough to reach the bathroom, or would you like me to carry you?”
“Sarcasm in one so young reveals a sophistication I abhor,” I said, crawling painfully to my feet.
“Do you usually talk like a Walt Whitman fan or are you lightheaded?”
I balanced myself carefully on the flat of my feet and held onto the desk. “Lady, I’m lightheaded, but you want to hear me when I’m drunk.”
She showed me the bathroom and stood by as I bathed my bruised head. I felt a lot better when I was through, although my ribs gave me some pain.
“Would you like me to bandage your head?” she asked. “You’d look awfully sweet and people would think you’ve been using it to break coal with.”
“Never mind,” I returned, surveying myself in the mirror. I didn’t look any worse than if I’d been run over by a truck. “But if you’ll give me something to work with I’ll bandage your arm.”
She shook her head. “No, thanks. I’ve always looked after myself and I won’t make a change now.”
We went across the devastated room to the door. “I’m sorry I’m not well enough to help you put all this straight,” I said, stopping and looking round. “But I think it would be a little too much for me.”
“That’s all right. You don’t have to act like a gentleman with me. I’m a detective myself.”
I sighed. “Stop ribbing me,” I complained. “And get that arm fixed. We ought to talk. How about tonight? I think I’ll be strong enough by then. Have dinner with me?”
She shook her head. “I don’t eat with detectives,” she said firmly. “I like to keep business and fun as far apart as possible.”
“Don’t be difficult,” I pleaded. “You could have an awful lot of fun with me.”
She regarded me with serious eyes. “I believe I could,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean I’m going to.”
“Okay, I won’t try to persuade you. Suppose I come out to your place sometime tonight? We have a lot to talk about.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll be in after nine o’clock. Goodbye now, and thanks for horning in. If you feel faint, get yourself some smelling-salts.”
I said I would and left her.
IV
I was awakened around six o’clock by someone knocking on my door. I raised my head cautiously, decided I felt better, and went over to unlock the door. As I passed the mirror I took a quick look and winced. I still looked pretty terrible.
Marian French gazed at me with startled eyes as I let her in. “Whatever’s happened?” she asked, her hand going to her face with a gesture of shocked concern.
“I had an argument with a midget,” I said, smiling crookedly. “It’s surprising how strong the little guys are. But come in. I don’t feel as bad as I look.”
“Oh, your poor head!” She came in, took a quick look at the crumpled bed and went on: “I’ve disturbed you.”
“It’s all right,” I said, sitting on the bed and feeling my head gingerly. “I was getting up, anyway.”
There was a bump on the top of my head that felt no smaller than a doorknob and my ribs were still sore, but I could have been worse.
She sat beside me and with cool, gentle fingers explored the bruise and the bump.
“I’ll fix that for you,” she said. “Just you lie back on the bed and take it easy.”
“Don’t you bother,” I said, trying to appear brave about it. “A little bang like this doesn’t worry me.”
“Don’t be tough and obstinate,” she said firmly. “Lie down and leave this to me.” She pushed me back on the bed. That was all right with me. I considered I was due for a little fussing.
“Now I won’t be a minute,” she said. “Don’t move until I come back.”
When she had gone I lit a cigarette and related. The sun made pools on the shabby carpet and the room was hot, but I didn’t care. The telephone jangled and, frowning, I reached for it.
I recognized Wolf’s growling voice. “I’ve got the Gazette,” he told me. “Now what the hell am I going to do with it?”
“You’ve got it?” I repeated blankly. “That’s fast work, isn’t it?”
He gave the nearest thing he could to a laugh. “I told you when I want a thing it happens. And let me tell you, it cost plenty; not that I give a damn about that.”
“Swell,” I said. “We can’t do anything tonight, but we’ll get together at the office tomorrow morning. With the Gazette we can run Macey ragged.”
He grunted. “I don’t know a damn thing about handling a newspaper,” he said, “but I guess I can learn fast enough.”