We were by now in a long corridor, and at the far end was another flight of stairs. Near where we were standing was the entrance to the poker room, and by the look of the crowd business was brisk.
‘There’s another bar farther down the corridor,’ she told me. ‘You can see the stairs from there. Don’t get into too much trouble,’ and with no show of further interest in me she went into the poker room and was swallowed up in the crowd.
I walked down the corridor like a guy who is planning to have fun but is in no hurry to get started. As she had said, another bar, a lot smaller than the one downstairs, was near the foot of the stairs. I glanced in. It was packed solid, and no one looked in my direction. I looked back over my shoulder. A blonde and a tall, beefy man who lurched as he walked, were coming towards me. The blonde had a bleak look in her eyes as she steered the beefy man into the bar. Neither of them paid any attention to me. As they began to fight their way through the crowd I jumped for the stairs. I went up them three at a time, and making no noise. I arrived at the top without anyone shouting ‘Hey!’ or shooting me in the back.
Facing me was another long corridor and a number of doors giving off it that had nothing to tell me what lay behind them.
I was standing looking down the corridor, trying to make up my mind what was the best and safest thing to do, when a door about ten feet from me jerked open and a blonde woman in a white silk blouse and brick red slacks stepped into the corridor
It was Anita Cerf.
Chapter Five
I
She stared at me blankly for perhaps half a second, then recognition jumped into her eyes and she caught her breath sharply, the way you catch your breath when a ghost appears at the bottom of your bed. But she didn’t lose her presence of mind. She took two quick steps back and tried to slam the door, but I shot out my foot, blocked the door open and gave it a hard shove with my shoulder. She went staggering back as I swept into the room, spun on her heel and made a dive for another door at the far end of the room. I caught up with her before she reached the door, grabbed her wrist and swung her around to face me.
‘Take it easy,’ I said. ‘I want to talk to you.’
She wrenched free and backed away. Her breasts rose and fell under the white silk of her blouse, her eyes glittered and her face was the colour of old ivory. She looked nothing like the seductive charmer who had tried so hard to get me to talk the previous night. Now she looked older and harder and a little shop soiled: an ex-follies girl who had kicked around and had been kicked around, who had grown tired of shoving men off, and because she didn’t shove anymore had lost the freshness and the charm that made her type of beauty mean something; and on top of all that she looked scared. Her wide grey eyes were full of terror.
‘Get out!’ she said in a voice scarcely above a whisper.
The room we were in was a bedroom: a nice room; not the kind of room you’d expect to find on the top floor of a night club. The carpet was thick and easy to the feet The bed looked comfortable. The drapes matched the carpet, and the carpet matched the quilted walls. The dressing table was loaded with bottles and powders and perfumes and atomizers. There were a number of lamps with parchment shades scattered about the room to give a restful even illumination. A girl — even a millionaire’s wife — could be happy in such a room, but Anita Cerf didn’t look happy. She looked like the victim of a railroad accident coming out of a smashed-up coach.
‘I’ve been looking all over for you,’ I said. ‘I have some questions to ask you, Mrs. Cerf.’
‘Get out!’ She pointed to the door with a finger that shook like the finger of an old woman with palsy. ‘I’m not going to answer questions! I’m not going to listen to you!’
‘What about the necklace? Don’t you want it?’
She reeled back on her heels as if I had hit her, and her hand flew to her mouth.
‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’
‘Yes, you do. The necklace you gave Dana Lewis. Why did you give it to her?’
She darted across the room and wrenched open a drawer of the dressing-table. I had seen enough movies to guess what she was after, and arrived at her side as she snatched a .25 automatic from the drawer. My hand clamped down on hers as she was bringing up the gun. I could feel her fingers undermine striving to pull back the safety catch, and I exerted pressure, crushing her fingers against the sides of the gun.
‘Drop it!’ I said. ‘Stop acting like a fool!’
She rammed her elbow into my chest and fell against me, making me stagger. I caught hold of her round her waist and held her to me. It was like trying to hold a wild cat, and she fought with the desperation of terror. I had all I could do to hold her. We went staggering and wrestling across the room.
‘Cut it out or you’ll get hurt!’ I exclaimed as she tried to butt me under the chin.
She hit me in the face, using her fist like a hammer, and hacked at my shin with the heel of her shoe. She was panting, and I could feel the muscles in her body twitching. As she tried to hit me again, I twisted her arm, forcing her to turn her back on me, and pushed up her hand towards her shoulder blades. She bent over, gasping. I put on more pressure, and her fingers relaxed hold of the gun. It dropped to the carpet and I kicked it under the bed.
‘You’re breaking my arm,’ she moaned, and flopped down on her knees.
I let go of her wrist, caught her by her elbows and lifted her to her feet, steadying her. Then I stepped away from her.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs. Cerf,’ I said, knowing I didn’t sound sorry at all. ‘Let’s cut out the fighting and talk. Why did you give Dana Lewis your necklace?’
‘I didn’t give it to her,’ she said, holding her wrist and glaring at me. ‘You’ve nearly broken my arm.’
‘You went with her to her apartment. You were wearing the necklace when you went in. You weren’t wearing it when you came out. It was found in the room. You gave it to her? Why?’
‘I tell you I didn’t!’
‘You were seen,’ I told her. ‘You can either tell me or the police. Please yourself — but make up your mind.’
She made up her mind by a sudden dive for the bed. She dropped on hands and knees and began scrabbling wildly for the gun; but it was well out of reach.
I went over to her and pulled her to her feet. She started fighting again, but I was tired of her by now and slung her on the bed hard enough to drive the breath out of her. She lay flat, her chest arched, her arms stretched wide on the green coverlet.
‘Why did you give it to her?’ I repeated, standing over her.
‘I didn’t!’ she panted. ‘The necklace was stolen! I didn’t give it to her.’
“Why did you take a taxi and go out to East Beach when you left her?’
She struggled up. Her face was stiff with fear.
‘I don’t know what you are talking about. I didn’t go to East Beach.’
You were there when she was shot. Did you shoot her?’
‘I wasn’t. I was never there! Get out! I won’t listen to you Get out!’
The odd thing was all the time she was scared she might be overheard And her terror worried me. She wasn’t frightened of me. But she was frightened of what I might say. Every time I got set to speak I saw her stiffen the way you stiffen when the dentist begins to drill close to a nerve.
‘You don’t know anything, do you?’ I said. ‘Then why are you hiding? Why don’t you go home? Does Cerf know you are here? Come on: it’s time you tallied!’
She half-lay, half-sat on the bed, flinching away from me. She began to say something, but the mumble died suddenly and she stiffened, and her eyes opened very wide and a resigned look of terror came into her face that wasn’t pleasant to see.