“I guess it takes a lot to stop a guy like you. Want me to come along?”
“Why in hell do you want to mix yourself up in this?” I asked.
“Damned if I know,” he said, running thick fingers through bleached hair. “Maybe I don’t like this town. Maybe I don’t like Killeano. Maybe I’m nuts.”
“I’ll go in alone,” I said.
“Okay. Anything I can do?”
“I want a car. Can you lend me one?”
“Sure. It looks a wreck, but it goes.”
“Get it.”
I smoked while I waited. I could hear the dance music from the distant Casino.
Duval came back after a while, driving a grey Mercury convertible. It looked as if it had been kicked around plenty, but the engine sounded all right.