“Coffee, then.”
“I could go for a cup of coffee and a cigarette,” Mason told her. “I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
It was a good twenty minutes before she joined him. The Japanese cook served them with swiftly silent efficiency. Mason waited until she had finished eating and was sipping her second cup of coffee after the meal. “Suppose,” he said, “you tell me about it.”
“About what?”
“About everything.”
“I don’t know a thing to tell. You know as much as I do.”
“How about that gun in the desk — did you know it was there?”
“Good Heavens, yes! I should have. I’ve shot it enough.”
“You have?”
She nodded. “When?” Mason asked.