Jail Bait

Locatta and Dolan left. Jane replaced the chain on the door. She was hungry. She managed some sandwiches in the ruin of the kitchen. Then she changed to old clothes and started in on the apartment. She saved the kitchen until last. She got to that by eleven-thirty. At quarter of one she straightened up by painful degrees, digging herself in the back with her fist. She looked at the gleaming little room.

“Adventure,” she said sourly. “Romance, excitement, suspense. Phooey!”

Just before climbing into bed, she went over to the front windows. She pulled the edge of the drapery away from the window frame and looked down at the street. A taxi, roof light glowing, hurried by and turned down the next street with the faint complaint of tires. She looked up. She could see stars beyond the city mist. She looked down again, ready to shrug off her fears.

And felt as if she were about to scream.

It was a darkness across the way, a pocket in the night; you could not see into it. But something moved. A tiny red coal that came up in a slow arc and stopped, flared brighter for a moment, and descended in the same slow arc. It was a cigarette held in someone’s hand, lifted slowly to unknown lips.

She worked in darkness. She built a high precarious tower of most of the pots and pans from the kitchen. She built it in the sweating darkness, built it so that it touched the front door. If the front door should open, even an inch, the tower would fall thunderously into the dishpan. Someone had once brought her a Samoan war club. She found it in the back of the closet and took it to bed with her. She lay and strained her ears for an interminable time before exhaustion overtook her.

A great banging, clattering, tinny sound brought her out of her sleep. She jumped from the bed, blinking at the morning sunlight, clutching the war club.

“Who is it?”

“Me, Dolan,” came the answer. “For God’s sake, what’s going on in there?”

“Just a minute.”

She got her robe and put it on, and released the chain and opened the door.

Dolan looked at the litter of pots and pans. “Got something cooking?”

She knew she was blushing. “I got nervous in the night. I made a pile of them. So they’d fall over if anybody tried to come in.”

“I didn’t even try. I just knocked. A thing like that can upset a man.”

“I’m sorry, but there was someone standing across the street last night, watching this place.”

Dolan stared at the object on the bed. “What’s that thing?”

“It’s a Samoan war club. What are you doing here, Mr. Dolan?”

“Thought I’d check up on you on my way to the mines. And show you a copy of this morning’s Journal.”

She gave a quick look and sat down hurriedly. “But this is awful. He gave it back.”

“And kept the negative.”

“That’s stealing!”

“I like the caption: ‘Beauty sought by killer. Apartment rifled. Boy friend struck down. Today the slayer of Walter Fredmans, international jewel thief, roams the streets of—’ ”

“I’d really like to get dressed, if you don’t mind,” she said frigidly, and he left, grinning.

She was at the hospital early, to see Howard. He was in a six-bed ward on the second floor in the east wing. Two of the beds were empty. The head of his bed was cranked high and he was reading a magazine. He put it aside and grinned at her as she appeared.

“Howard, what a little bit of a bandage thing that is! I thought you would be swathed in stuff. Like a fortune teller.”

“I know it’s there, all right.”

She pulled the chair closer to his bed so she could hold his hand. “What happened?”

“There isn’t much to tell, really. You sounded sore over the phone when I called you yesterday morning. I wanted to be sure you’d wait for me, so I phoned again later. They told me you had left for the day. I was upset. All I could think of was somebody phoning you and pretending to be somebody else, just to get you out of there.”

“But I didn’t leave! I had to tell the switchboard to say that because I couldn’t get any work done.”

“I worried about you.”

“You remember everything now?”

“Oh, sure. I went to your place and got there a little after two. I pushed your button but I didn’t get any answer. I hung around, wondering what to do. I pushed a bunch of other buttons and pretty soon the door buzzed and I went on in. I took the elevator up and went down to your door and knocked on it. The second time I knocked, the door swung open. That puzzled me, so I walked right in. Then I was looking up at you. No memory of being hit or of falling. That’s still gone. I just remember walking through that door.”

“When can you leave here, Howard, and go back to work?”

“I can leave tomorrow and go to work Thursday if I feel okay.”

The nurse came rustling up. “You’re Miss Bayliss?”

“Yes, I am,” said Jane.

“There’s a phone call for you in the phone booth in the lobby, Miss Bayliss.”

“Thanks. Howard, I’ll be back this evening. Okay?”