Glorie’s eyes hardened. “You think of everything, don’t you?” she said.
“Don’t get high hat. I’ve thought about you, too. It’s going to be tough, but there’s no other way out. Thayler’s on the skids, and the sooner you cut away from him the safer it’s going to be for you. You don’t need to worry. Take a look at a mirror. A dame like you won’t starve.”
Glorie giggled. “You’re cute,” she said. “I want to hate you, but you’re too cute. Don’t you ever make love to a girl?”
Fenner said, “Let’s keep to business. Never mind what I do. I’m working now, and I never play when I work.”
Glorie sighed. “I guess that’s all hooey.”
Fenner nodded. This was boring him. “Now what about Thayler? Did you take anything from him?”
Glorie pouted. “Why do you think I did?”
“It’s a guess. Why did he want to shoot you? Revenge? Too risky. He knew you were with me. To stop you talking? Yes, that adds up.”
Glorie went over to the sideboard and opened a wooden biscuit chest. She came back with a small leather wallet. She threw it into his lap. “I took that,” she said defiantly.
Fenner found a number of papers in the wallet. He lit a cigarette and went through them carefully. Glorie at first sat close to him, watching, then, when she saw how absorbed he was, she got up and went out on the piazza. She fidgeted around for nearly ten minutes, then she came back again. Fenner said, without looking up from his reading, “Get a meal together, baby; I’m going to have a late night.”