I watched him go thoughtfully. I couldn’t quite get the angle. I went over to the bar. Hank was polishing glasses. He was a big guy with red, curly hair and tremendous hands and arms.
“Who’s the dope?” I said, jerking my head towards the door.
Hank shrugged. “Search me,” he said. “What’ll you have?”
“Ain’t you seen him before?”
“I don’t remember.”
Just then Ackie came in. When he saw me he grinned.
“What the hell are you doin’ here?” he said, crowding up to the bar. “Two ryes and ginger,” he said to Hank.
“I wanted to see you,” I said, “so I looked in on the off-chance.”
Hank put the rye in front of us. He beamed at Ackie. “You all right, mister?” he asked.
Ackie leant forward and patted Hank’s arm. “Me? I feel fine, couldn’t be better.”