“I get a break. I’ve only got about thirty dollars.”
Kells laughed. “You’d better keep that for cigarets. I’ve got to square this thing pronto and it’ll probably take better than change — or maybe I’ll take a little trip.” He got up, walked across the room and studied his long white face in a mirror. He leaned forward, rubbed two fingers of one hand lightly over his chin. “I wonder if I’d like Mexico.”
Cullen didn’t say anything.
Kells turned from the mirror. “I guess I’ll have to take a chance on reaching Rose and picking up my twenty-four Cs.”
Cullen said: “That’ll be a lot of fun.”
The First Street lights and electric signs were being turned on when Kells parked on Fourth Street between Broadway and Hill. He walked up Hill to Fifth, turned into a corner building, climbed stairs to the third floor and walked down the corridor to a window on the Fifth Street side. He stood there for several minutes intently watching the passersby on the sidewalk across the street. Then he went back to the car.
As he pressed the starter, a young chubby-faced patrolman came across the street and put one foot on the running board, one hand on top of the door. “Don’t you know you can’t park here between four and six?” he said.
Kells glanced at his watch. It was five thirty-five. He said: “No. I’m a stranger here.”
“Let’s see your driver’s license.”
Kells smiled, said evenly: “I haven’t got it with me.”