“That’s no way to talk,” Conrad said. “It’s a damn shame, but there’s nothing we can do about it. We’ll go tomorrow night, and I’ll make certain we do go.”
Janey leaned forward and with the back of her hand she swept the ornaments, photograph frames and the clock off the mantelpiece, to crash into the hearth.
“Janey!” Conrad came quickly into the room. “Now stop that!”
“Oh, go to hell!” Janey said in the same cold, quiet voice. She stared at Conrad’s reflection in the mirror, her eyes hostile and glittering. “Go and play cops and robbers. Never mind about me, but don’t expect to find me here when you get back. From now on, I’m going to have fun without you.”
“June Arnot’s been murdered, Janey. I’ve got to go. Now look, I’ll take you to the Ambassador’s tomorrow night to make up for this. How would you like that?”
“You won’t take me so long as there’s a telephone in this house.” Janey said bitterly. “I want some money, Paul!”
He looked at her. “But, Janey…”
“I want some money now: at this minute! If I don’t get it I’ll have to hock something, and it won’t be anything belonging to me!”
Conrad shrugged. He took a ten-dollar bill from his billfold and handed it to her.
“All right, Janey. If that’s the way you feel about it. Why don’t you give Beth a call? You don’t want to go alone.”