There were no chimney-stacks to hide behind on this roof, and the light of the moon picked me out as if a searchlight was playing on me. But not far away was a sky light, and I nipped over to it, heaved it up and without looking where I was going, lowered myself into darkness
For about half a minute I sat on the floor, drawing in great, heaving breaths, my legs feeling like rubber, and not caring where I was or what was going to happen next. Then, just as I decided to get up, a door opened right by me and a panel of light from a shaded amp in the room beyond fell on me.
I twisted around, ready to start fighting and looked up at a girl in a crumpled black nightie that was as transparent as a plate-glass window.
She was a tall, tired faced blonde, and she regarded me with sleepy curiosity.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Are you in trouble, honey?’
I dug up a grin.
‘Perhaps that’s a slight understatement. Sister, I’m full of trouble.’
She poked a knuckle in her eye and yawned.
‘Cops?’
‘Yeah, cops,’ I said, getting to my feet.
She stood aside.
‘You’d better come in. They’ll search the joint.’
I went past her into the room. It was a typical love nest. Delmonico’s catered for all tastes and vices The room was small and stuffy and skimpily furnished. A bed, a chest of drawers, a toilet basin and threadbare mat were the only luxuries the room could boast of.
‘What have you done, honey?’ the girl asked, s ting on the bed and yawning. She had very big white teeth and her mouth was a smear of lipstick. ‘I heard shooting. Was it you?’
‘I walked into it,’ I said. ‘The cops moved in just behind me. I had to get out quick.’
‘Was Betillo shot?’
‘Not him; some other guy.’ Seeing the disappointment on her face, I added, ‘Betillo run into a cracked head. He won’t be much use for some time.’
“That’s fine,’ she said. ‘I hate that heel.’
Outside in the passage there was a sudden soft thud.
‘Cops,’ I said softly. ‘Right out there, now.’
‘They’re crazy to stick their snouts in here,’ she said, moved across the room and swiftly and silently, bolted the door and then dug her thumb into a bell-push on the wall. ‘That’ll bring the bouncers up,’ she went on with a tight little smile. ‘Keep your shirt on, honey. You’ll soon be out of this.’
The door suddenly rattled.
A voice said, ‘Open up or I’ll shoot the lock in!’
I pulled the girl away from the door.
Heavy footsteps came pounding up the stairs. A voice yelled, ‘It’s cops! Hey, Joe! Buttons!’
One of the cops shouted, ‘Lay off! This ain’t anything to do with you! Keep back or you’ll get hurt.’
A gun went off and there was a yell. More feet pounded up the stairs. I yanked the sheets off the girl’s bed, knotted them together, ran over to the window. More gunfire. If I didn’t get a move on the riot squad would be out there to welcome me. I pulled out all that was left of my money and pushed he notes into the girl’s hands.
‘So long, sister,’ I said. ‘And thanks.’
One of the cops fired through the door. Someone along the passage opened up with what sounded like a Sten gun.
I had the window open by now.
‘Boy!’ the blonde exclaimed, excited. She was wide awake now. ‘I’m loving this! Mind how you break your neck.’
I knotted one end of the sheet, dropped the sheet out of the window, got out on the sill.
‘Shut the window on the knot,’ I said, ‘and make it snappy. I’ll buy you a drink one of these days.’
She closed the window as more gunfire rattled through the building, and waved to me through the pane.
I grabbed the sheet and went down fast. As I dropped to the ground a voice shouted, ‘Hey! You!’ And a shadow moved towards me.
I swung round as a hand grabbed at my shoulder. I wasn’t in a playful mood, and I brought my right fist up in an uppercut that caught the guy on the side of his jaw. He gave a choked grunt and slid forward, his hands clutching at my coat. I kicked him off and he dropped down on his hands and knees. He remained like that, groaning.
I ran down the alley to where I left my car.
III
It was getting on for three o’clock a.m. when I pulled up outside an apartment block on Hawthorne Avenue. The building was set back from the road, and in the forecourt a big bowl and fountain gave the place its only sign of distinction. It was a rabbit warren of apartments; all small, all squeezed together; and all expensive. I had been there before. Its only advantage was that it was soundproof, but even at that, I’d rather have lived in a tent.
Miss Bolus rented a two-room apartment on the ground floor, facing east. I decided I wouldn’t embarrass her by using the front entrance. The hall porter wouldn’t take too kindly to a call on an unattended young lady at this hour, so I walked across the lush lawn, past the bowl and fountain and along the cement path to the casement window that I knew led into her sitting room.
Her apartment was in darkness. The window, next to the casement, would be her bedroom, and I tapped gently on the windowpane. She couldn’t have been a heavy sleeper for I had only tapped about three times when I saw through a chink in the curtains a light flash up. I stepped back, pushed my hat off my forehead and groped for a cigarette. I was feeling tired and hot, and hoped there would be a drink in there for me. As I lit the cigarette, the curtains parted and Miss Bolus looked out at me. I could only see the outline of her head, but she could see my face in the light of the match. I grinned at her.
She waved me to the casement window and moved away. The curtain swung back into place.
As I stepped to the casement, I felt a drop of rain on my face. For the past ten minutes, heavy clouds had been piling up in the sky. It looked as if it were coming on for a wet spell. I wasn’t sorry. The close, brittle heat didn’t suit me. The casement window swung open as it began to rain in earnest.
‘Hello,’ I said. ‘It’s raining.’
‘Did you wake me up to tell me that?’ she asked, holding the casement door against her side, and looking at me in the light that flowed over her shoulder from the standard lamp in the sitting room.
‘That and other things. Can I come in? I could do with a drink.’
She stood aside.
‘When I heard you tapping I thought it was burglars,’ she said. ‘I think I was dreaming about burglars.’
I went into the small room that was comfortable enough, but the furniture was too modern for my taste. I sat down in a chair shaped like the letter S, pitched my hat on the nearby divan, yawned and looked at her approvingly.
She was wearing an oyster-coloured silk wrap over a pale blue, crepe-de-Chine nightdress. Her small feet were thrust into fur-lined moccasins, and her flame-coloured hair was tied back with a piece of blue ribbon. She looked very wide awake, her make-up was surprisingly fresh, and there was a look of restrained surprise and perhaps angled in her chinky, green eyes.
‘Never mind the burglars,’ I said. ‘How about a drink? ‘What have you got?’
She moved past me to the sideboard.
‘I think I’m going to be very angry with you,’ she said. ‘You’ve never seen me angry, have you?’
‘I don’t think I have. Why be angry?’
She poured out a big whisky, added Whiterock and handed me the glass.