The Duchess of Skid Row Read Free Page B

stairs to the apartment Hoxey and Teddy Jenner shared.
    I took the stairs.
    I hiked down a dim hallway. Things had changed here too. The once chipped and stained plaster walls had been repaired and repainted dazzling white. The woodwork was bright blue.
    Except for one jarring note: the next to the last door opening onto the hall was painted blood red. The panel was decorated with a replica of an obscene souvenir from Pompeii for a door knocker. On my last visit, this door had led into a storeroom.
    The last door was the way I remembered it. Bright blue paint with two white planets circling a golden sun stood out on the central panel. The planets symbolized Teddy Jenner’s idea of herself and Hoxey Creen. She had never told me what the sun stood for.
    I tried the knob. The door was locked. I rapped. A hollow echo came back to me. I took out my key ring and went to work on the simple lock. It clicked back.
    The air smelled sourly of unwashed clothes. A rumpled bed with dirty sheets filled one corner of the room. A pile of unwashed men’s socks and underwear littered the sheets. An open door gave me a glimpse of the combination bathroom-kitchen. A two-burner hotplate sat on top of the flush tank.
    There was no sign of Hoxey or Teddy Jenner. I stared around at the filth. I wondered how a woman like Teddy could have put up with Hoxey’s habits for a week, let alone two years. She had a background of money and a finishing school education. Yet outside of the time she had broken Hoxey’s nose with one of her big fists, I had never heard of them having any disagreement.
    A door out in the hall opened. Teddy Jenner’s husky voice said to someone, “Now get lost and let me rest.”
    A man’s voice answered, “What’s got into you, baby? This is no way to treat me.”
    Teddy sounded tired. “Just give it a rest and cut out.”
    The other voice turned hot with anger. “Nobody gives me the brush. Not even you.”
    Teddy cursed in a harsh, pain-filled voice. I stepped into the hall. I was in time to see Teddy pry a man’s hands loose from her arms. She pushed him away with her right hand and then drove a straight left into his face.
    I hadn’t expected the man Teddy brushed off to be Hoxey Creen. But I hadn’t expected him to be Nick Calumet, either. But he was—sleek, lean features, patent leather hair, padded sport jacket, and hard, dark, cold eyes.
    Calumet straightened from the wall. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and blotted his nose. Neither he nor Teddy looked my way. I stayed where I was and watched.
    Calumet put the handkerchief away. He reached in another pocket. He came up with a knife. His thumb twitched and eight inches of thin, sharp-looking steel glittered in the dim light.
    Teddy reached behind her for the doorknob. Calumet stepped away from the wall. He lifted his arm, getting the knife into throwing position.
    I said, “Nick!”
    He swiveled his head toward me. His eyes were glittering, like a man too far gone in anger or hate to know what he was seeing.
    I said, “Four inches of steel is the legal limit in this town. Put that shiv away.”
    He seemed to see me. He said, “She hit me.” His voice was thick with shock.
    I said, “I’ll ask the DA to pass a law to protect defenseless men like you.” I took a step toward him. “Now give me that pigsticker.”
    He dropped his arm as if he might snap the knife shut and hand it over to me. Suddenly he lunged forward. The knife came straight up in slashing position.
    I dropped and dove low. Calumet twisted to the side as my shoulder hit him at the hip. His movement whipped me around. He brought up a knee against my ribs. I lost my grip on his legs and rolled on the dirty floor.
    He did a running broad jump over my body and headed for the stairs. I came to my feet. I said, “All right, let‘s you and the knife both go downtown.
    He stopped and looked back at me. His anger was worked out. His eyes laughed at me. “You couldn’t get an unlicensed