“Someone had beaten her?”
“I’ll say someone had beaten her. The marks on her back looked like they were put on with red paint.”
Paula thought for a moment. “Maybe she was scared that you’d think she was crazy and, by showing you that, you’d see she was in a jam.”
Fenner nodded. “It might go like that, but I don’t like it.”
While the waiter was fixing him another drink, Paula glanced at the elderly man again. She said to Fenner, “Don’t look now, but there’s a man over there taking a great interest in you.”
“What of it?” Fenner said impatiently. “Maybe he likes my face.”
“It couldn’t be that. I guess he thinks you’re made up for the films.”
The elderly man got up abruptly and came over. He stood uncertainly, and he looked so sad that Paula gave him an encouraging smile. He addressed himself to Fenner. “You’ll excuse me,” he said, “but are you Mr. Fenner?”
“That’s right,” Fenner said without any enthusiasm.
“My name’s Lindsay. Andrew Lindsay. I wanted your help.”