The sirens were dying now. A powerful police car shot to the curb behind them. Puffy's eyes narrowed and he drove the coupe away from the club smoothly.
"Too hot around here," he said to no one in particular. "Can't stand the smell of copper's feet."
Sylvia Fanton's dress was badly ripped on one side. The silken stocking and smooth flesh of her thigh was visible through the tear.
"Please!" There were tears in her cold eyes. "I must have the jacket. It is mine, you know."
Drake was coy.
"Aw," he insisted. "I had a ticket for it."
She slipped between them, her arm around Drake's shoulder. Realizing that he was drunk, she tried a different approach.
"Now what would you do with it?" she asked sweetly. "You would look funny wearing a silver fox jacket. You'd be just an old fox."
Jim hesitated. Then he slipped the jacket from his arm and around her soft shoulder.
"I'll make a deal with you," he suggested. "Let us take you home and you can have the old animal."