“All right, sister, I’ve told you.”
“You sure as hell have — you big boob.”
I said, “I’ll have another one of your cigarettes if you don’t mind.”
She gave me the cigarette case and said, “Well, strike me down. If that ain’t something — I guess I’m going nuts. I see you go into a hotel, the cops start looking for you, I run into you, I ditch a date, bring you up here, and spill my guts to you without finding out who the hell you are or anything about it... I suppose you’re a private dick working for Alta Ashbury — no, you’d be more apt to be hired by the old man.”
I lit the cigarette.
“But what’s the idea of being such a dope? Why didn’t you let me go ahead turning myself inside out, pretend you were going to work with me, pump me for information, and then throw the hooks into me?”
I looked at her and said, “Kid, I’ll be damned if I know,” and it was the truth.
She said, “You could still be the one who bumped Jed Ringold.”
“I could be.”
“I could put you in a spot on that.”