“Will you do that?” Grantham sounded relieved. “Get round tomorrow early, Tootsie. This ain’t the time to he down on it.”
Mendetta stood up. “Leave it to me,” he said. “I’ll fix him,” and he hung up.
Jean came out of the bathroom. She looked strikingly beautiful in her silk wrap. Perhaps her mouth was too large, but it gave her a generous look that was not in her nature. She was tall, with square shoulders, a narrow waist and thick hips.
“Who was it?” she said.
Mendetta went over to the table and gathered up the cards. He didn’t feel like patience any more.
“Grantham,” he returned, putting the cards carefully in their container. He was a very tidy man. He took two little sips from the whisky.
She looked over at the clock. “What did he want? It’s late.”
Mendetta nodded his big head. “I know,” he said. “Go to bed. I’ll come in a little while.”
She turned her head so that he couldn’t see the sudden vicious look that came into her eyes. “Don’t be so secretive,” she said lightly. “Is he in trouble?”
He stubbed out his cigar. “He’s always in trouble. That’s why I’m hereto pull him out.” He plodded over to her. His big heavy hand rested on her hip. “Go to bed. I shan’t be long.”