I said: “Sb-h-h. You’re all right here. Sit down. There’ll be some coffee in a little while. Where’d you get the snoutful?”
She sat down and shook her head stupidly. “I don’t know. I’ve been everywhere since I left you. I’ve been everywhere except home because I can’t go home this way. Look what I got.” She stood up again and Look a battered automatic pistol out of her coat pocket. “Look at that.” She waved it at me while Asta, wagging her tail, jumped happily at it.
Nora made a noise with her breathing. The back of my neck was cold. I pushed the dog aside and took the pistol away from Dorothy. “What kind of clowning is this? Sit down.” I dropped the pistol into a bathrobe pocket and pushed Dorothy down in her chair.
“Don’t be mad at me, Nick,” she whined. “You can keep it. I don’t want to make a nuisance of myself.”
“Where’d you get it?” I asked.
“In a speakeasy on Tenth Avenue. I gave a man my bracelet–the one with the emeralds and diamonds–for it.”
“And then won it back from him in a crap game,” I said. “You’ve still got it on.”
She stared at her bracelet. “I thought I did.”
I looked at Nora and shook my head. Noma said: “Aw, don’t bully her, Nick. She’s–”
“He’s not bullying me, Noma, he’s really not,” Dorothy said quickly. “He–he’s the only person I got in the world to turn to.”
I remembered Nora had not touched her Scotch and soda, so I went into the bedroom and drank it. When I came back, Nora was sitting on the arm of Dorothy’s chair with an arm around the girl. Dorothy was sniffling; Nora was saying: “But Nick’s not mad, dear. He likes you.” She looked up at me. “You’re not mad, are you, Nicky?”
“No, I’m just hurt.” I sat on the sofa. “Where’d you get the gun, Dorothy?”
“From a man–I told you.”
“What man?”
“I told you–a man in a speakeasy.”
“And you gave him a bracelet for it.”
“I thought I did, but–look–I’ve still got my bracelet.”
“I noticed that.”
Nora patted the girl’s shoulder. “Of course you’ve still got your bracelet.”
I said: “When the boy comes with that coffee and stuff, I’m going to bribe him to stick around. I’m not going to stay alone with a couple of–”
Nora scowled at me, told the girl: “Don’t mind him. He’s been like that all night.”
The girl said: “Fle thinks I’m a silly little drunken fool.”
Nora patted her shoulder some more.
I asked: “But what’d you want a gun for?”
Dorothy sat up straight and stared at me with wide drunken eyes. “Him,” she whispered excitedly, “if he bothered me. I was afraid because I was drunk. That’s what it was. And then I was afraid of that, too, so I came here.”
“You mean your father?” Nora asked, trying to keep excitement out of her voice.
The girl shook her head. “Clyde Wynant’s my father. My stepfather.” She leaned against Nona’s breast.
Nora said, “Oh,” in a tone of very complete understanding. Then she said, “You poor child,” and looked significantly at me.
I said: “Let’s all have a drink.”
“Not me.” Nora was scowling at me again. “And I don’t think Dorothy wants one.”
“Yes, she does. It’ll help her sleep.” I poured her a terrific dose of Scotch and saw that she drank it. It workcd nicely: she was sound asleep by the time our coffee and sandwiches came.
Nora said: “Now you’re satisfied.”
“Now I’ m satisfied S hall we tuck her in before we eat?”
I carried her into the bedroom and helped Nora undress her. She had a beautiful little body.
We went back to our food. I took the pistol out of my pocket and examined it. It had been kicked around a lot. There were two cartridges in it, one in the chamber, one in the magazine.
“What are you going to do with it?” Nora asked.
“Nothing till I find out if it’s the one Julia Wolf was killed with. It’s a .32.”
“But she said–”
“She got it in a speakeasy–from a man–for a bracelet. I heard her.”