“You don’t have anything to call him about, not so far,” she said. “All you’ve heard is talk.”
I could see he was impressed by that. He settled back in his chair. “I guess the guy is a smooth liar, at that.”
I said, “What did you expect? Sleight-of-hand tricks, or television? I’m telling you.”
“Just what are you telling us, again?” she asked. “Why don’t you get down to brass tacks?”
I said, “Okay, I will. Tom Durham and Bob Elgin have a racket. I don’t know what’s in it for either of them, and I don’t care. I don’t know what Durham was playing for on this mix-up that goes back to the so-called suicide-pact Saturday night; but I do know that they’re in the picture somewhere. I have a chance for salvage, an opportunity to get a cut out of eighty grand. Bob Elgin was interested in it. He told me to come here — hell, I don’t know, he could be double-crossing all of us. I hate to sit here and take the rap.”
“You’re going to be sitting places for a long time,” Lowry said.
“Not if I can help it, but I’m not. I’m going to wrap up a cut of eighty grand and get out from under on this Hollister killing.”
“Are you trying to tell us you didn’t do that?”
“Of course I didn’t.”
Lowry said, “I’m going to call Bob, and that’s final. You take the gun, Babe.”