Rose moved his shoulders a little, half nodded. Ruth Perry lost her balance, sprawled down on the floor. She sat up slowly and leaned against the wall. Kells was staring at Rose. His eyes were bright and cold and his mouth curved upward at the corners, ever so little. He said: “Come here.”
Rose came across the room slowly. When he was close enough, Kells put his left hand on his shoulder suddenly, spun him around, slid his hand down to jerk a small caliber automatic out of Rose’s hip pocket.
Kells said: “We’re going out of here now. You’re going to walk a little ahead of me, on my right. If we have any trouble, or if any of these gentlemen” — he jerked his head toward MacAlmon and the short man and the other man — “forget to sit still, I’m going to let your insides out on the floor.”
He swung the bar up straight, took the key out of the door. “Do you understand?”
Rose nodded.
Ruth Perry staggered clumsily to her feet. She had picked up an ice pick that was laying by one of the tubs; she waved it at Kells. She said: “Don’ go, Gerry — ’s a swell party.” She weaved unsteadily toward him.
Kells dropped Rose’s gun into his left coat pocket, shifted his own gun to his left hand and shoved Ruth Perry away gently with his right.
She ducked suddenly under his outstretched arm, straightened up and brought her right hand around in a long arc hard against his back. The ice pick went in deep between his shoulder blades.
Kells stood very still for perhaps five seconds. Then he moved his head down slowly, looked at her.
Rose half turned and Kells straightened the automatic suddenly, viciously against his side. Rose put his hands a little higher, slowly lowered his head.