It looked like these two knew each other, so I tried again.
“That guy who was play in on the table over there… who was he?”
Hank stopped laughing. His little eyes shifted like quicksilver. “I tell you I don’t know him,” he said.
Ackie looked at me, then he looked at Hank. Ackie was a smart guy. He saw the set-up without being told. “Spill it, Hank… this guy’s a pal of mine,” he said.
“I tell you I don’t know.” Hank was getting angry. “I can’t waste all my time with you gents… I gotta get on with my work.” He walked to the far end of the bar and began polishing glasses down there.
Ackie looked after him thoughtfully and poured himself another rye. “What’s it all about?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Maybe it’s nothing. I was pushing some balls around an’ some guy offers to play me. I turned him down, an’ while he was showin’ off I spotted a gun in his pocket. Then he asked if my name was Mason, took a hard gander at me and beat it. I was just wondering who he was. This bar bozo knows who he was, but won’t say.”
Ackie frowned. “What’s this fella like?”
“A tall, thin bird, with a hanging lip and cold, hard eyes. He looked a dope, but I guess he was tough all right.”
Ackie’s eyes narrowed. “.This guy know how to handle a cue?”