Fay turned his head without changing his blank expression, looked at the little man who had been carried into the cabin, laid on a couch. “Who’s your boy friend?”
The woman said: “Nemo Kastner of KC — little Nemo, the chorus boy’s delight.”
Kells looked at the woman. She was blonde — but darkly, warmly. Her mouth was very red without a great deal of rouge, and her eyes were shadowed and deep. She was a tall woman with very interesting curves.
Fay said: “This is Miss Granquist.”
Kells nodded shortly. He took a bottle and a glass from the desk, went to the little man.
Fay got up and went to one of the ports. He looked out at the Joanna, spur of fire against the horizon. “Beautiful!” he said — “beautiful!” Then he turned and went over to where Kells knelt over little Kastner.
Kells held a glass of whiskey to Kastner’s mouth. Kastner drank as if he wanted it very much.
Kells looked up at Fay. He dipped his head toward Kastner, said: “This is the young fella who rubbed Doc.”
Fay twisted his mouth to a slow sneer. His eyes dulled. He said: “You shot Doc, you son of a bitch — and tried to hang it on Ruth.”
Kells stood up slowly.