She was trembling violently. I took my hand from her mouth, patted her reassuringly on the shoulder, and said, “Shucks, Babe, I haven’t the heart to go ahead and torture you this way. Take me out the back way. I didn’t know anything at all about that Hollister killing.”
“Don’t... Don’t choke me. I’ll do... anything. Anything you want. I…”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “I never choked anybody in my life, but I want to be out of here fast, and I want to take you with me so you don’t run down the hall and tell Sam. Now let’s go.”
She led the way through a back door, into a screened back porch. We went down the first of the stairs, our feet echoing on the wood. I shoved the gun back under my coat.
Halfway down, I said, “You can go on back now, Babe. I’m sorry I had to play it this way, but I needed to get out. I hadn’t counted on that radio broadcast coming in just when it did.”
She said, “You aren’t going to... to take me with you… to do things... to choke me?”
I laughed, and said, “Forget it. Here, here’s the gun.” I broke the gun open, took the shells out, handed her the shells. “Don’t try shooting until you get the shells in,” I said, “and by that time you’ll have thought better of it. There’s no need attracting a lot of attention and getting your name in the papers. After all, Bob Elgin wouldn’t like it if he knew you were here. Good-bye, Babe.”
She hesitated a moment, then her lips twisted in a half-smile. “Good-bye,” she said, “I guess you’re — pretty damn smart — and a good egg, after all.”
I ran down the rest of the stairs. I looked back and saw she was holding the gun, still making no effort to load it.