Somebody across the room went down with a crash; then somebody else. "Sit on the floor!" Ray shouted, and they all did it, squatting cautiously like old ladies at a picnic. The meeting gathered speed again.
I looked apprehensively at the narrow piano top we were standing on, and sat down with my legs hanging over. Ray stayed where he was, defying the elements to do their worst.
"You know, all right," I said, looking up at him, "but you're keeping it to yourself." I shrugged. "Well, why shouldn't you?"
"O-kay," he said good-naturedly. "Let's figure it out. Where were you when it started?"
"In the bar."
"Who else was there? Try to remember exact-ly."
I thought. "Art Greymbergen. Fred Balester. Gamble was there—"
"Okay, that eliminates him—and you, incidentally—because it started in here. Right, so far?"
"Right!"
"Hmmm. Something happened to Akimisov."