He shook a cigarette loose.
"Here," he said "Have one."
"Don't you smoke?"
"I smoke. I don't feel like one now."
"Come on. Nothing like a cigarette for relaxation.
"Here."
He thrust the package toward her.
"Oh, all right," she said. She shifted the38 to her left hand. The muzzle of the gun was an inch from the bag. With her right hand, she took the cigarette Byrnes offered.
Standing at her right, he figured he would extend the match with his left hand, let it fall into her lap, and then clip her with a roundhouse right when she pulled back in fright. Oddly, his heart was pounding furiously.
Suppose the gun went off when she pulled back?
He reached into his pocket for the matches. His hand was trembling. The cigarette dangled from Virginia's lips. Her left hand, holding the gun against the purse, was steady.
Byrnes struck the match.
And the telephone rang.
CHAPTER 5
Virginia whipped the cigarette from her mouth and dropped it into the ash tray on her desk.
She switched the gun back to her right hand and then whirled on Bert Kung who was moving to answer the telephone.
"Hold it, sonny!" she snapped.
"What line is that?"
"Extension 31," Kung~answered.
"Get away from this desk, Lieutenant," Virginia said. She gestured at him with the gun, and Byrnes backed away. Then, with her free hand, she pulled the telephone to her, studied its face for a moment, and then pushed a button in its base.
"All right, answer it," she said, and she lifted her receiver the moment Kung did.
"Eighty-seventh Squad, Detective King."
He was very conscious of Virginia Dodge sitting at the next desk, the extension phone to her ear, the snout of the .38 pointed at the center of the big black purse.
"Detective Kung? This is Marcie Snyder."
"Who?"
"Marcie." The voice paused.
"Snyder."
Intimately, it whispered.
"Marcie Snyder.
Don't you remember me, Detective Kung?"
"Oh, yes. How are you, Miss Snyder?"
"I'm just fine, thanks. And how's the big blond cop?"
"I'm ... uh ... fine. Thanks."
He looked across at Virginia Dodge. Her lips were pressed into a bloodless smile.
She seemed sexless, genderless, sitting opposite him with the lethal38 pointed at the black hulk of the bag. And, in contrast to the thin shadow of death she presented, Marcie Snyder began to ooze life in bucketfuls. Marcie Snyder began to gyrate with her voice, undulate with her whispers so that Kung could visualize the nig reoneaci lying Oil a ~itai~ in a gossamer negligee, cuddling up to the ivory telephone in her hand.
"It's nice talking to you again," she said.
"You were in such a hurry last time you were here."
"I had a date ~xith my fiancee," Kung said flatly.
"Yes. I know. You told me. Repeatedly." She paused. Her voice dropped slightly.
"You seemed nervous. What were you nervous about.
Detective Kung?"
"Get rid of her," Virginia Dodge whispered.
"What?" Marcie said.
"I didn't say anything," Kung answered.
"I was sure I heard ..
"No, I didn't say anything. I'm rather busy, Miss Snyder. How can I help you'?"
Marcie Snyder laughed the dirtiest laugh Bert Kung had ever heard in his life. For a moment, he felt as if he were sixteen years old and entering a whorehouse on La Via de Putas. He almost blushed.
"Come on," he said harshly.
"What is it?"
"Nothing. We've recovered the jewels."
"Oh, yeah? How?"
"It turns out they weren't burglarized at all. My sister took them with her when she went to Las Vegas."
"Are you withdrawing the complaint then, Miss Snyder?"
"Why, yes. If there was no burglary, what have I got to complain about?"
"Nothing. I'm glad you located the jewels. If you'll drop us a letter to that effect, stating that your sister-" "Why don't you come by and pick it up, Detective Kung?"
"I'd do that, Miss Snyder," Kung said, "but there's an awful lot of crime going on in this city, and I'm just about damn near indispensable.
Thanks for calling. We'll be waiting for your letter."
He hung up abruptly, and then turned away from the phone.
"You're a regular lover boy, aren't you?"
Virginia Dodge said, putting her receiver down.
"Yeah, sure. A regular lover boy," Kung answered.
He was, to be honest, embarrassed by the fact that Virginia had listened to Marcie Snyder's come-hither conversation. Bert Kung was twenty-five years old and not exactly adept at the sort of fencing Marcie Snyder did. He was a tall blond man with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, his face bearing the clean stamp of milk and strawberries. He was, in a sense, handsome-but his good looks were overshadowed by the innocence with which he carried them. Kung was engaged to a girl named Claire Townsend, whom he'd been dating steadily for the past year. He really wasn't interested in Marcie Snyder or her sister, or the countless Marcie Snyders & Sisters to be found everywhere in the city. And so it annoyed him that Virginia Dodge might have thought he'd promoted this particular phone call. He didn't want her to think that.
He knew it was odd that he should care what a bitch like Virginia Dodge was thinking, but somehow it became a matter of pride to him that she should not think he was diddling around when he was supposed to be investigating a burglary.
He walked over to the desk where she sat.
The black purse made him nervous.
Suppose someone fell against it? Jesus, you had to be absolutely nuts to go around carrying a bottle of nitroglycerin.
"About that girl," he said.
"Yes?"
"Don't get the wrong idea."
"Why, what idea would that be?"
Virginia Dodge said.
"Well, I mean... I was investigating a burglary, that's all."
"Why, what else would you be investigating, honey lamb?" Virginia asked.
"Nothing. Oh, forget it. I don't know why I'm bothering explaining it to you anyway."
"What's the matter with me?" Virginia said.