“All right, Miss Palmetter,” he said. “That’s all.”
I fished up my hat from under my chair and stood up.
“Looks like a visit to the Dream Ship,” I said.
Willet put the Scotch and the two glasses away.
“You’d better not tell me about that,” he said. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”
“You’ll be surprised how careful I will be.”
“She may have gone to Mexico,” he went on doubtfully.
I gave him a little grin, but he didn’t grin back.
“Be seeing you,” I said, and went into the outer office.
A fat, over-dressed woman, with pearls the size of pickled onions around her neck, sat breathing heavily in one of the lounging chairs. She gave me a stony glare as I picked my way past her to the door.