She looked me over, then leaned across the table a little closer and said, “Okay, buddy. Forget it.”
“Why should I forget it?” I asked.
She nodded vaguely towards the back of the room. “Couple of plain-clothes men,” she said in an undertone, “making the rounds, asking about the men who knew Evaline.”
“Why all the commotion?” I asked.
“Somebody bumped her off this afternoon.”
I sat bolt upright in my chair. “This afternoon?”
“Yes. Take it easy, Donald. Don’t telegraph the conversation. I’m tipping you off, that’s all.”
I thought a minute, then surreptitiously slid a five-dollar bill out of my pocket and said, “Thanks, baby. Stick your hand under the tablecloth. I have something I want to say.”
I felt her fingers contacting mine, and then the five-dollar bill being gently withdrawn. Carmen’s shoulders hunched forward almost even with the table as she slipped the bill down her stocking.
“And my thanks go with it. I have a wife in San Francisco. I couldn’t afford to be questioned.”