I saw her suddenly give a little shiver. “You know a little more about this than you’re lettin’ me think. Ain’t that right?”
She hesitated. Then she shook her head. “I can’t help you…. I’m his personal secretary…. You see that, don’t you?”
I scratched my jaw. “Yeah, I guess so,” I said doubtfully. “At the same time, baby, you gotta remember that this is a murder rap, and accessories don’t get much pity.”
She went a little white when I said this, but she again shook her head. “No, not now,” she said firmly.
“Okay,” I said. “Maybe later.”
The Greek brought the coffee and I gave her a cigarette. We sat there in silence, smoking. I wasn’t sure where I was going from here. I had hoped that something would have broken, but it seemed as tight shut as before.
“I guess I’d better look this Spencer guy over,” I said at last. “Maybe I’ll, get something out of him.”
Mardi fiddled with her coffee-spoon. “I wish you wouldn’t,” she said, without looking at me. “Don’t you think that it would be better to leave this business alone?”
I raised my eyebrows. I must say I was getting a hell of a lot of encouragement on this job. “I’ve gotta get into this,” I said. “Can’t you understand with a thing like this there’s a big angle as a story hanging to it? If I bust this thing, it’ll start a riot. I shall be the guy responsible. It’ll mean something then.”
“I don’t want to sound a crab,” she said, putting her hand suddenly on my sleeve, “but isn’t it a bit big? I mean… I don’t want you to think….” She stopped in confusion.