“Yeah?” I said, wondering who the hell it was.
“Is that Nick Mason?”
As soon as I heard that hard, metallic voice I sat up. My arm jogged the glass of rye, which went over with a crash. Even the spilling of good liquor didn’t take my mind off that voice.
Four days ago she had rung me up. Without saying who she was, she told me that I’d get a pass to attend Vessi’s execution and I was to try and get a word with him. If I thought I could expose a frame-up, she’d pay me ten thousand dollars. She had hung up before I could say a word.
Boy! Was I intrigued! I could handle that sort of mystery stuff from dawn to dawn. Not only was the incentive there in the way of cash, but the story angle got me excited.
And here she was again.. The voice was unmistakable. It was clear, bell-like and hard.
I sank back on my pillow, holding the ’phone tight.
“You got it right, sister,” I said.
“Did you go?”
“Yeah.”