“Go ahead,” Golding said. “See if I care. Telephone the whole damn force if you want to.”
“No,” Mason said casually, “Holcomb would be enough. He’d come up here and start asking questions — not only of you two, but of some of the customers in the front room. Perhaps they saw Cullens go in or come out.”
The man behind the desk stared straight ahead, with steady, expressionless eyes.
Mason laughed and said, “That hurt, didn’t it?”
Golding moistened his thin lips with the tip of his tongue. His eyes shifted uneasily to glance questioningly at the woman who sat at Mason’s side.
She said, in her full-toned, throaty voice, “All right, sweetheart, he’s got us.”
“He’s bluffing,” Golding said.
“He may be bluffing,” she retorted, “but he’s bluffing with the high hand.”
Mason, without taking his eyes from Golding, said over his shoulder, “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me,” she told him. “Thank your luck. You’d better go out and play roulette. You’re getting the breaks tonight.”