“Go on. Get in that bedroom and get that stuff together,” Pug said sharply.
“On my way.”
Pug started me toward the door. ” ’By,” I said to Helen Framley, “and thanks. Where can I reach you if I want to get in touch with your?”
It was Pug who answered the question, and his eyes were cold. “That, buddy, is the thing I was going to tell you when I got you outside, but I might as well tell you now. You can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“Can’t get in touch with her.”
“Why not?”
“For two reasons. One of ’em is that you won’t know where she is, and the other one is I don’t want you to. Get me?”
Helen said, “Pug, don’t be like that.”
Pug said, “On your way,” and gripped his fingers around my elbow. The push which he exerted was gentle but insistent. Over his shoulder, he said, “You get into that bedroom, babe, and make it snappy.”