“Don’t bawl me out, Vince. Please don’t bawl me out.”
Elrick opened his eyes. Gladys was leaning weakly against a wall and facing her was a short heavy-set guy who wore a super-draped pin-striped suit. His hair was curly and light brown, and his eyes were a shade lighter. He had a wide, flattened nose and twisted lips.
Gladys was sobbing. She started to lean her head against the short guy’s shoulder but he pushed her away. She sobbed louder.
Then Elrick raised himself from the floor, pulling at his holster. The pistol came out into his hand.
“Hello, Vince,” he said, and got up.
Vince Mazzione seemed very much astonished. He rubbed his tongue across his lips a few times, then pointed to the pistol.
“You don’t need that,” he said.
“Thanks, but I don’t think I’m gonna take any chances. You remember me, don’t you, Vince?”
Gladys cut into her own sobbing.
“Sure, Vince, you remember him,” she said. “He’s an old friend. The original Mr. Auld Lang Syne.”