Big Bill got up and went to the door and opened it. "Okay, Ray. No hard feelings?"
"No," Ray said.
As he walked through Big Bill said, "Believe it or not, I pulled my punch on that poke in the gut." And then, before Ray could answer, not that there was anything to answer, the door closed behind him and he heard the chain slide into the slot.
No stairs this time. He went to the shaft of the self-service elevator and pushed the button. The indicator showed that it was on the top floor, but it started down. He leaned against the wall opposite the elevator door to wait for it.
Suddenly he remembered something and reached for his wallet. Amico had told Monahan to take thirty-six out, but what if Monahan hadn't put back the change? But Monahan had; the wallet held a ten and some singles. Fourteen lousy bucks.
He had to get money from Dolly now. And he might as well try for five hundred while he was at it—what was to lose trying? If he got that much—and he'd offer any kind of interest to get it—he'd stay out of the poker session and not risk losing any of it. He'd keep it intact to be sure of being able to pay Joe tomorrow.
But fifty or a hundred wouldn't do him any good with Joe, so if that was all he could get, running it up would be his only chance.
Dolly, Dolly, he thought, please, Dolly. Be like the mistress of the man in the French short story.
The elevator came and the door slid open automatically. He stepped inside.
A minute later he was at the curb, looking frantically both ways for a taxi. None was in sight and he ran, doubled over a bit because his stomach hurt, to the corner, where he'd have a better chance of flagging one.