“Listen, Reiger. You ain’t gettin’ that way with me. Either you work with me or to hell with it. What’s the job?”
Reiger scratched the side of his mouth with his thumbnail. “We’ve got a consignment of Chinks. We’re bringin’ them over tonight.”
Fenner said, “Okay, I’ll be here.”
Reiger went out.
“Friendly guy that,” Fenner said to Nightingale. “Somehow, I don’t think he an’ I hit it off.”
Nightingale looked worried. “You’re handlin’ that guy wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “He’s mean. You’d better watch him.”
Fenner drummed on the top of a coffin-lid with his fingers. “I’ll watch him all right,” he said. He nodded to Nightingale and went downstairs. Curly was sitting at the desk writing in a ledger. She looked up hopefully as he went past.
Fenner paused. “Hyah, baby,” he said. “That’s a nice face and figure you’re wearin’ this mornin’.”
Curly opened her big eyes. “Gee!” she said. “I don’t get much of that syrup.”
“Never mind. It comes as a nice surprise when you do.”