“It’s a funny thing,” I said, “but no one seems to like me.”
Lydia, seeing me close, lashed out again and caught me on the knee. I hurriedly got to my feet. “Will you quit kicking me around?” I said, stepping away from her.
The guy who had hit me was bearing down on me again, but Peppi stopped him. “Wait,” he said, “don’t hit him again. I want to talk to him.”
He then turned and helped Lydia to her feet. She looked as if she were going to make another rush at me, but he jerked her round, “Cut it out!” he said. “What happened?”
It came out like a bursting dam. She told how I had got the gun, taken her into my apartment and knocked her cold; how I had taped her up and taken her to the top floor of an empty warehouse by the river and left her there, and how some bum had found her and released her.
All the time she was talking she was glaring at me, and when she was through she made a sudden dive in my direction, but Peppi grabbed her arm and shoved her back. “Get out,” he said, in his little hissing voice, “you’re not hurt and you’ve had a lucky break. I want to talk to this guy. Maybe I’ll let you at him later.”
She gave a look that’d stop a runaway horse and then she went out, leaving me alone with Peppi and the muscle man.
“Okay, Lew,” Peppi said, “just watch him. If he acts dumb, you can have him.”
I sat down again. “Go on,” I said bitterly, “don’t mind me. Put me up for auction.”
Peppi came over and helped himself to a cigar from a box on the table. “You don’t seem to be so clever after all,” he said.