“The woman part is on the level, too, but don’t rush me.”
Then the telephone rang, startling us both. It was right by me, and as I reached for it she dipped swiftly into her handbag and brought out a .25 automatic. She pushed the gun against the side of my head, the little barrel rested on my skin.
“Sit where you are,” she said, and there was a look in her eyes that froze me. “Leave the telephone alone!”
We sat like that while the bell rang and rang. The shrill sound gnawed at my nerves, bounced on the silent walls of the room, crept through the closed french windows and lost itself in the sea.
“What’s the idea?” I asked, drawing back slowly. I didn’t like the feel of the gun against my face.
“Shut up!” There was a rasp in her voice. “Sit still!”
Finally the bell got tired of ringing and stopped. She stood up.
“Come on, we’re getting out of here,” and again the automatic threatened me.
“Where are we going?” I asked, not moving.
“Away from telephones. Come on if you don’t want to get shot in the leg.”