“Start anything? Don’t make me laugh. Blondie an’ me are playin’ at graves.”
I wished Ackie had kept away from the bottle. In this state he was likely to land us all in a jam. When I thought of Blondie sitting right behind me, I sweated some.
I swung the big car into the narrow station and killed the engine. An old guy came out with a goatee beard. So that he didn’t get too close to the car I stepped out.
“Give me ten,” I said briefly.
As he was adjusting the dial a motor-cycle came banging up out of the darkness. When I saw the dim outline of the Stetson hat I stiffened. It was a State trooper.
I said to the old guy, “Snap into it, Buddy, I’m rushed.”
The State trooper dismounted and wandered into the light. I recognized him. He was a guy named Flanaghan. I’d known him in my cub days. Although I tried to duck into the shadows he recognised me.
“Ain’t you Mason?” he said, peering at me.
I gave him my hand. “Well, well,” I said, pump-handling him. “Ain’t it a small world?”
I’m glad that guy couldn’t read my thoughts. He was a nice social fellow and he might have had a shock.