“Sure.” Rose went to a cabinet and took out a bottle of whiskey and three glasses. “Why didn’t you pick it up at the store?”
Kells walked across the room and sat down on the arm of a big, heavily upholstered chair. O’Donnell was in his shirtsleeves. O’Donnell’s coat was lying across a table, back and a little to one side of Kells.
Kells said: “I want it in cash,”
Rose put the bottle and glasses down on a wide central table.
“I haven’t got any cash here,” he said, “we’ll have to go over to the store.” He went toward the telephone on a desk against one wall. “I’ll order some White Rock.”
Kells said: “No.”
Rose stopped, turned — he was smiling. O’Donnell unstraddled the chair and sauntered in Kells’ general direction. His pale eyes were fixed blankly on Kells’ stomach. Kells stood up very straight, took two long swift sidewise steps and grabbed O’Donnell’s coat. The automatic in a shoulder holster which had been under the coat clattered to the floor. O’Donnell dived for it and Kells stamped hard on his fingers, brought his right knee up hard into O’Donnell’s face. O’Donnell grunted, lost his balance and fell over backward; he rolled back and forth silently, holding both hands over his nose.
Rose was standing by the central table, holding the whiskey bottle by the neck. He was still smiling as if that expression had hardened, congealed on his face.
Kells stooped and scooped up the gun.
There was a wide double door at one side of the room, leading to a bedroom, and beyond, directly across the bedroom, there was another door leading to a bath. It opened and a very blonde woman stuck her head out. She called: “What’s the matter, Jack?”