Mr. Hubert. Where were you then?
Mrs. Carlin. I was at home in bed, I wasn’t feeling too good, and my husband was out working. So, right after he called me—I was still on the telephone, and my husband walked in, and he had just finished saying, “If you’re not down here, you won’t be around too long,” and then my husband walked in and I let him have the telephone and they talked then.
Mr. Hubert. What did your husband say?
Mrs. Carlin. My husband told him I wasn’t coming down and if he gave me any trouble he would tell the police about it, and he said, “Well, I’ll see her on the way to the club and I’ll see that she never makes it inside the door.”
We moved from the apartments that we were in that Kirkwood knew we were living in—we moved from there and Kirkwood didn’t know anything about it, and he went looking for me over there and asked my landlord about me and where to find me, and then he was supposed to meet me up at the Carousel Club and knock me out so I couldn’t get in—he was going to see that I never made it, and he never did show up. He called the colored man that took care of the place. He called him and told him to tell me that he had called, and I don’t remember what all he said to the colored man, but he called him.
Mr. Hubert. Who is he again?
Mrs. Carlin. Pat Kirkwood.
Mr. Hubert. He operates the Cellar, you say? That’s a nightclub?
Mrs. Carlin. It’s a beatnik club here in town on Main Street.
Mr. Hubert. Have you heard from him since?