“Yeah. I’m on it already. You get outta here, or I’ll help to run you out.” Nightingale was very serious and quiet.
Fenner knew it was no use talking to him. “Have it your own way,” he said.
Nightingale hesitated, took a .38 special from his pocket and put it on the table. “That’s to see you out of town safe. Crotti did a lot for me. If you’re still around by tonight, you better start shootin’ when you see me—get the idea?”
He went out, closing the door gently behind him.
Fenner picked up the gun and held it loosely in his hand. “Well, well,” he said.
Curly came out of the bathroom. She saw the gun. “Nightingale been in?”
Fenner nodded absently.
“Friendly?”
“About the same as you.”
Curly grunted. “You ready to leave? I’m getting my car. I’ll drop you anywhere.”