She nodded. "It was his idea to fake the robbery so we could collect the insurance money too. I think I agreed just to get out of facing Blanchard with a lie." She laughed harshly. "That's very funny, isn't it? Anyway, Mario was going to dispose of the jewels through a fence. All he wanted for his services, he said, was fifty percent of the final sale."
"He said," Fleetwood prompted.
And even as he said it the thought flickered in the back of his mind that he was wasting an awful lot of valuable time jawing with this dame when he should be getting the hell out of there. He controlled the impulse. He thought of Kitty.
"Yes," Evelyn sighed. "Really he wanted everything. Me, too. But that doesn't matter any longer. You've got to get out of here." She got up and helped him to his feet. "You'll have to hurry."
He flipped the gun; it was as empty as a chorus girl's head. He looked up at Evelyn.
"I—I didn't know," she said stupidly. "Mario just handed it to me."
He grabbed her by the arm and spun her around before she could get away from him. "There's nothing for winning like using a cold deck, is there, honey?" he snapped. He gave the arm a twist and her face registered pain. "Where is it? Where's the ammunition?"
"I don't know!" she cried. "Mario didn't...."
He pulled the arm up behind her and leaned down on it. The cords in her neck came out like harp strings. "Where'd you put it?"