I said, “I gave him the whole dope and told him I needed a man who could hold up his end in case the going got tough. I told him what his cut would be. He gave me your name and address. I told him you’d tried to meet me before, and he laughed and said, ‘People whom you wanted to meet didn’t always want to meet you,’ or something like that. I’ve forgotten just what it was. I told him I was on my way up here. I certainly thought he’d either be here or get in touch with me.”
There was another period of silence.
I said, “You don’t suppose he could be giving us both a double-cross, do you?”
“Hell, I’m not his partner,” Lowry said. “I’m his bouncer.”
“You were supposed to be in on this deal.”
“How much did you say was involved?”
“Eighty thousand smackers.”
“How come?”
I said, “Take yesterday’s paper. Figure it out for yourself. Dover Fulton was found dead. If he committed suicide, his policies don’t pay off because they’re less than a year old. He gets nothing except a return of the first year’s premium. If he didn’t commit suicide the policies carry a double indemnity provision. The face of the policies is forty thousand, twice forty is eighty.”
“Eighty grand!” Lowry said, and licked his lips.