He went downstairs quickly, cutting off her reply. Toni and his companion still sat on the steps. They made way hurriedly as Baird came through the lobby.
He ran down the steps, and walked quickly along the sidewalk to his car.
Jack Burns, who had been lolling against a lamp standard, reading a newspaper, watched him drive away. Then he headed for a nearby drug store. He got Harmon Purvis on the phone after a delay.
‘Burns reporting,’ he said, pushing back his hat and speaking rapidly. ‘Baird left Roxburgh House at eleven-five. Rico didn’t come out with him. Baird’s been cal ing on a girl who has a room on the top floor of an apartment house on Twenty-fifth Street. He stayed about a quarter of an hour. It’s my bet he holed up with this girl when the cops were hunting for him.’
‘Who is she?’ Purvis asked.
‘Her name’s Anita Jackson,’ Burns said. ‘I managed to get one of the tenants of the house to talk about her. He says her morals are no better than they should be: whatever that may mean. She works at a steak joint on Western Street. Want me to do anything about her?’
‘Not yet,’ Purvis said. ‘Stick to Baird. If he sees her again we might put a tail on her. Don’t let Baird out of your sight. I have an idea things will start moving in a day or so.’
‘Yeah,’ Burns said, yawning. ‘Maybe sooner. I’l get over to his place. Tel Ainsworth not to be late. I want some sleep tonight.’
‘You’ve got al tomorrow to sleep,’ Purvis said heartlessly. ‘There’re more important things to think about.’
‘Don’t let me keep you out of your bed,’ Burns said sarcastical y, and hung up.
IV
Adam Gillis went over to the window and looked down into the street. He was utterly bored now with the girl on the bed. It had been a mistake to have brought her up to his room. Her appearance had been deceptive. She was a common little beast, he thought, and not particularly clean. Her awful voice jarred on his nerves, and her perfume was simply hell.
He watched a taxi coming along the street, wondering how best to get rid of her without causing a scene. The only thing in her favour was she hadn’t asked for money, but it was obvious by the way she was making herself comfortable she expected to stay the night.
The taxi pulled up outside his apartment house, and a girl got out.
Eve!
Gillis swore under his breath. What did she want, coming here? He turned swiftly away from the window.
‘Get your clothes on quick and get out!’ he said. ‘My damned sister’s coming. Hurry up! Do you hear me? She’l be here in a minute or so!’
‘Who cares?’ the girl on the bed said sulkily. ‘You don’t have to answer the door, do you? Let her ring.’
Gillis went over to the bed, caught hold of her arm and pulled her to her feet.
‘Let go of me, you big stiff!’ the girl said angrily. ‘Who do you think…’ She broke off with a squeal as he slapped her buttocks viciously.
‘Do what I tel you,’ he said, giving her a push that sent her reeling across the room. ‘Get dressed and get out!’
The venomous look in his eyes frightened her, and she hurriedly snatched up her dress and struggled into it.
‘You dirty, rot en creep,’ she wailed. ‘Where do you think I can go at this time?’
‘I don’t give a damn, and keep your mouth shut or I’l take the skin off your hide,’ Gil is snarled. He grabbed up her stockings, underthings and hat and threw them at her. ‘Come on; outside! You can finish dressing in a taxi.’ He opened the door. ‘Here, take this, and get out.’ He pushed a dol ar bil into her hand, ran her into the passage. ‘On your way, and be quick about it.’
As she began to curse him, he gave her another slap that shot her forward to the head of the stairs.
She bolted down them like a scalded cat.
Gillis shut the door and turned the key.
The room stank of cheap perfume and, cursing, he threw open another window and began to fan the air with a newspaper until the rumpled bed caught his eye and he dropped the paper and ran over to straighten the sheets and pillows.
He was emptying an ash-tray full of cigarette butts stained with lipstick when a knock came on the door.
He took a quick look at himself in the mirror. His pyjamas were grubby and most of the buttons on the jacket were missing. There were lipstick smears on his chest and neck. He bolted into the bathroom and hurriedly sponged them off, then slipped into a faded dressing-gown before re-entering the bedroom.
The knock was repeated. He unlocked the door and opened it.
‘Why, Eve!’ he said, staring at her. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’
‘I had to see you,’ she said. ‘Can I come in?’
‘I suppose so,’ he said reluctantly. ‘It’s a hell of a time to cal . I was asleep.’ He stood aside to let her in. ‘Sorry about the stink in here. I upset a bot le of perfume. As a matter of fact I’d bought it for you. It smells pretty horrible, doesn’t it, and the blasted girl swore it was ful of al ure.’
Eve glanced around the big, shabby room. She had been here only once before. It was a room that set her teeth on edge. It was dirty and dusty. Two naked French dolls stood on the mantelpiece, either side of a row of tarnished silver sporting trophies. Above them, slung perilously on two hooks, was a sculling oar; above the oar were two crossed squash rackets. On either side of this sporting set were boxing gloves that hadn’t been dusted since they had been hung in position.
Eve had certain knowledge that her brother had loathed sport of any kind during his very short stay at college. He had been sent down after six months of college life for ‘infamous behaviour’, the details of which she had never learned. Where he had filched the sporting trophies from she couldn’t imagine, and didn’t like to ask.
Over the bed was a large framed photograph of the men of his year, sitting bolt upright with arms crossed and chins thrust out: young men looking into the future with aggressive determination. She looked at the photograph, and for a moment she couldn’t find Adam amongst these determined young men, then she spotted him by his shifty expression, and jeering, untrustworthy smile. He was not so thin as he was now, and she noticed with surprise that his hair was thicker, and it came as a shock to realise his hair now was thinning fast, hinting at a premature baldness.
She moved away from the photograph, feeling ashamed as if she had been caught looking through a keyhole. The years that had passed since he had left college had taken a heavy toll. At least, in the photograph, he looked amused, happy and cared-for, but looking at him now, as he stood scowling at her, he looked seedy and disreputable and forsaken.
‘Wel , what is it?’ he asked crossly. ‘Do sit down, can’t you? Must you wander around sticking your nose into everything?’
She sat down, and as she did so she saw something on the floor, half hidden under the bed, and she felt a sense of sick shock as she hurriedly averted her eyes.
‘Oh, I know what you’re thinking,’ he said, sit ing on the window-sill and staring at her. ‘You’re thinking I’ve had a woman up here. Wel , you’re quite wrong. I was sound asleep when you knocked.’
‘It’s nothing to do with me who you have here,’ she said quietly. ‘But you don’t have to lie about it.
She dropped a stocking on the stairs. You’d better give it to her. She didn’t look as if she could afford to lose it.’