Granquist took the other bottle and sat down, jerked her head toward the phone. “Was that on the square — you’re going?”
“Certainly.”
“You’re a sap.” She tilted the bottle to her mouth, gurgled.
Kells went to a little table against one wall, took two glasses from a tray and went back and put them on the center table. He poured one of them half full. “No, darling — I’m a very bright fella.” He drank. “I’m going to get myself a lot of air while I can. The combination’s too strong. I’m not ambitious.
“You’re a sap.”
Kells went to a closet and took out two traveling bags, a large suitcase. He took the drawers out of a small wardrobe trunk, put them on chairs.
“You’d run out on a chance to split fifty grand?” She was elaborately incredulous.
Kells started taking things out of the closets, putting them in the trunk. “Your information is worth more to Fenner — than anyone else,” he said. “If it’s worth that much he’ll probably pay it. You can send me mine...”
No, god-damn it! You stay here and help me swing this or you don’t get a nickel.”
Kells stopped packing, turned wide eyes toward Granquist. “Listen, baby,” he said slowly, “I’ve got a nickel. I’m getting along swell legitimately. You take your bottle and your extortion racket, and screw...”