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heft him to his feet by his arm.
But Jack was incapable of movement just then.
He sat there, imagining a cartoon of birds and stars
circling his head. Whoever had drawn that cartoon first had
obviously been through the experience himself.
"Expecting somebody else?" he grumbled, removing her hands
from where she was probing his head again.
"I thought it might be Coco."
Jack's mind seemed to clear all at once as he remembered
his reason for coming over. And also the reason he'd been
standing with his back to Mal-lory when she'd opened the
door.
Of course, if he hadn't had his back to her, he would have
taken a lamp to the face.
Not a pretty image, that one.
He'd stumbled back a few feet before finally falling on
his ass. Mallory's door still stood wide open and he blinked
at it, then at her.
"I have the uncanny feeling that Coco isn't who we both
think she...he is," he said.
"Tell me about it," Mall said, somehow managing to get him
to his feet. Never underestimate the strength of a midget,
Jack thought. "She's a thief."
"No. She's more than that."
Mallory nearly tripped trying to support his weight. He
smiled down at her, feeling a little goofy. Getting hit in
the head probably did that to a person.
"Do you still have the information you got in Nebraska?"
' 'Nebraska? What does Nebraska have to do with Coco?"
Jack reached out to steady himself on the door-jamb before
Mallory got a hernia. She stepped inside and helped him
follow her in.
"Just get the file, Mall," he grumbled. He recalled that
he'd had some hangovers in his time that felt this bad. A
strong reminder of why it was he didn't drink now.
He closed the door after himself and a light went on.
But judging from Mallory's gasp, she wasn't the one who'd
flicked the switch.
Jack looked across the room at a woman holding a gun.
"Coco!"
Mallory couldn't believe that just five minutes ago she'd
been lying on her floor bemoaning the ugly state of her life.
Since then she'd beamed Jack on the head with a lamp thinking
he was Coco. Then she'd come inside her apartment to find
Coco holding a gun on her.
The aging prostitute-if that's what she really was-stood
near the kitchen, while Mallory stood in the middle of the
living room, and Jack was leaning against the closed door for
support.
Coco waved the gun at Jack. "Move away from the door,
lover."
The anger Mallory had felt when she'd picked up the lamp
reemerged...and then some.
"You've got some nerve showing your face here again,
Coco," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "What's
the matter? The cashier's check wasn't enough for you? Did
you come back for more?"
The prostitute smiled, a malicious red slash in her
makeup-covered face. "Move," she said to Jack again.
He began to push from the door then wavered on his feet.
Mallory rushed to help him to the couch. He sank into the
cushions then put his hands to his head. Mallory moved toward
the kitchen to get some ice only to come face-to-face with
Coco.
She swallowed hard, never having been that close to a gun
before, but still ticked at all that had happened. "Is it all
right if I get him some ice?"
Coco stepped to block her passage.
Mallory gulped. "Come on, where am I gonna go? There
aren't any windows in the kitchen, so there's no way out."
To her surprise and enormous relief, Coco moved.
Mallory crossed to the refrigerator, only she had nothing
in which to put the ice. So she ripped open the box on the
counter, found a clean dishrag, then piled ice in the middle
of it. Her gaze caught on the garbage bin and the files from
the Red Gardenia case overflowing from the top. The one
marked Nebraska was on top. Slanting a glance at where Coco
had her back to her, the prostitute's major concern
apparently Jack, Mallory took the file out, tucked it under
her arm, then walked into the other room and sat down next to
Jack.
"Here," she said, gently pressing the ice pack against the
back of his head. She hated that her hands were shaking.
He made a low hissing sound then accepted the ice from
her, holding it to his wound himself.
That freed her to sit back and open the Nebraska file.
"What are you doing?" Coco asked, advancing a few steps,
the shiny silver gun held out in front of her.
Mallory ignored her and looked at Jack. "Is this what you
were talking about?" she asked him.
He nodded, then winced at the movement. "The picture."
Mallory leafed through the documents as best she could,
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