Kile was fast losing patience. He had been in last night and had bluntly said he would give Rico three more days to find Baird, and if he wasn’t successful the deal was off.
Fifteen grand! Rico sipped his drink and scowled down at his expensively shod feet. Where the hell was Baird? Why hadn’t he got into touch with Rico as he had promised? Had it been Baird who had been chased across the roofs and shot at that night the cop and girl in the drug store had been murdered?
How long ago was that? Rico thumbed back the leaves of his calendar. Twenty-three days. The papers had said the killer had been wounded. Maybe Baird had holed up somewhere and had died. Rico felt sweat start out on his forehead at the thought. If Baird was dead, then the hope of laying his hands on Kile’s fifteen grand was dead, too.
He finished his whisky, went over to the cellarette and made another. Then he lit a cigar and sat down at his desk again. There was nothing more he could do. Every petty crook in town was searching for Baird. Rico had offered a reward for reliable news of Baird, but so far no one had claimed it.
After he had finished his second whisky he decided he would take a turn in the restaurant. It was getting on for midnight, and it was time he showed himself. He went over to a vase of carnations, selected one, stuck it in his button-hole and surveyed himself in the mirror. In spite of his bald head, his pitted complexion and his bloodshot eyes, Rico was quite pleased with his appearance. He adjusted his silk handkerchief, shot his cuffs and turned to the door.
For a moment he stood completely still, scarcely believing his eyes, then with a sharp exclamation, he darted forward, holding out his hand.
‘Baird! Wel , damn it! I was only just this moment thinking about you. Where the hel have you been?’
Baird closed the door and walked across to Rico. He shook hands without enthusiasm, looked Rico up and down and then went over and dropped into the red leather armchair.
‘Get me a drink,’ he said curtly. ‘I need it.’
Rico gave him a quick, anxious glance. Baird was thinner than when he had last seen him, and his face fine drawn. There were smudges under his eyes as if he had been sleeping badly, and he looked surly.