“One thing’s sure.” Joyson struck the bar a light blow with a clenched fist. “Somewhere in town right now there’s a negative with Luella on it. It’s gonna be used by that dame in her divorce action. If one of our old suckers sees it, and we try to go back to him for more—”
He left the sentence unfinished.
“If that blonde really is after a divorce,” he enunciated softly. “If she’s his wife...” He swung off the bar stool. “We’re going back to the apartment. I want to talk to Lu about this guy.”
They walked along the echoing sidewalk toward the apartment house. Fifty yards from it, Kermein grabbed his companion’s arm. With his free hand he pointed.
In the lee of a potted shrub beside the entrance, a man lurked. A camera case was slung over his shoulder, and even in the dark the two men could recognize the photographer who had accompanied Patricia. He was not looking in their direction at the moment, but an elephant could not have lurked more obviously.
Like a sister act, Joyson and Kermein pivoted and walked briskly back to the bar they had just left. There was no more uncertainty in Joyson’s mind as they stepped inside.
“But — but what the hell’s he doin’ there?” mumbled Kermein. “The job was finished when he got his picture. You think the old goat’s got another dame in the place?”
“Shut up!” Joyson’s tone silenced him. “I don’t know and I don’t care. It smells. Gimme a nickel.”
He went to the phone booth. When Luella’s throaty voice answered, he wasted no words.
“Did you get rid of everyone?”