“What little friend?” Ken asked, staring fixedly through the windshield at the line of traffic ahead.
“Come on, Holland, don’t be cagey with me. You know you can trust me to keep my mouth shut. How did you like her?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ken said curtly.
“Well damn it! I gave you her telephone number. You called her, didn’t you?”
“I’ve told you already; I stayed at home last night and weeded the rose bed.”
Parker lifted his eyebrows.
“Well, okay, if that’s your story, I guess you’re stuck with it, but you don’t kid me. But since I gave you the introduction you might at least admit she’s a damn fine girl.”
“I wish you’d shut up!” Ken snapped. “I stayed home last night. Can’t you get that bit of information into your thick skull and stop all this nonsense?”
“I was only pulling your leg,” Parker said, a little startled by the anger in Ken’s voice. “I was doing you a good turn. If you’re such a mug not to take advantage of my introduction, that’s your funeral. Fay’s sensational. When Hemingway put me on to her, he saved my life. I admit I took a chance, but I’m damned glad now.”
“I wish you would get off this subject,” Ken said. “Can’t you talk about something else?”