Granquist said: “I was drunk when I talked to Fay. Fifteen’s chicken-feed. If you want to help me handle this the way it should be handled we can get fifty.”
“You have big ideas, baby. Let’s keep this practical.”
Granquist lighted her cigaret, said: “How would you like to buy me a drink?”
Kells went into the dressing room and took two bottles of whiskey out of a drawer. He tore off the tissue-paper wrappings and went back into the room and put them on a table.
“One for you and one for me.” He took a cork-screw out of his pocket.
The phone buzzed.
Kells went to the phone, and Granquist got up and took off her gloves and began opening the bottles.
Kells said: “Hello... Yes — fine, Stella... Who?... Not Kuhn, Stella — maybe it’s Cullen... Yeah... Put him on...”
He waited a moment, said: “Hello, Willie... Sure...”He laughed quietly. “No, your car’s all right. I’ll send one of the boys in the garage out with it, or bring it out myself if I have time... I’m taking a powder... The Chief: six o’clock... Uh huh, they’re too tough out here for me. I’m going back to Times Square where it’s quiet... Okay, Willie. Thanks, luck — all that... G’bye.”
He hung up, went to the table and picked up one of the opened bottles. He said: “Do you want a glass or a funnel?”