“If it’s blackmail, I’m out. That’s out of my line.”
“Phooey,” she said. “I’m going to let you in on the ground floor. Then you and I are going to make some dough.”
“Just what have you got on Alta Ashbury?”
When she opened her mouth, I suddenly put my hand over it. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
She stared at me. “What’s eating you?”
“I’m on the other side of the fence,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“Listen, sweetheart, I can’t do it. I’m not that much of a heel. You’re not kidding me a damn bit. You were in on the whole play. Jed Ringold got those checks from Alta Ashbury. He turned them over to you to take up here to the Atlee Amusement Corporation. You gave the boys here a slice, had a little stick to your fingers, turned the rest of it back to Ringold, and Ringold passed it on to the higher ups — or the lower downs whichever you want to call them.
“Now, I’m going to tell you something. You’re done, finished, all washed up. Make a move against Alta Ashbury, and you’ll be on the inside looking out.”
She straightened up and sat looking at me. “Well, of all the damn nuts,” she said.