"Why should I?"
"I'm nice to be nice to, soldier.
I'm not nice not to be nice to."
"Listen hard and you'll hear my teeth chattering."
He laughed dryly.
"Did you — or did you?"
"I did.
I'm damned if I know why.
I guess it was just complicated enough without you."
"Thanks, soldier.
Who gunned him?"
"Read it in the paper tomorrow — maybe."
"I want to know now."
"Do you get everything you want?"
"No.
Is that an answer, soldier?"
"Somebody you never heard of gunned him.
Let it go at that."
"If that's on the level, someday I may be able to do you a favor."
"Hang up and let me go to bed."
He laughed again.
"You're looking for Rusty Regan, aren't you?"
"A lot of people seem to think I am, but I'm not."
"If you were, I could give you an idea.
Drop in and see me down at the beach.
Any time.
Glad to see you."
"Maybe."
"Be seeing you then."
The phone clicked and I sat holding it with a savage patience.
Then I dialed the Sternwoods' number and heard it ring four or five times and then the butler's suave voice saying:
"General Sternwood's residence."
"This is Marlowe.
Remember me?
I met you about a hundred years ago — or was it yesterday?"
"Yes, Mr. Marlowe.
I remember, of course."
"Is Mrs. Regan home?"
"Yes, I believe so.
Would you — "
I cut in on him with a sudden change of mind.
"No.
You give her the message.
Tell her I have the pictures, all of them, and that everything is all right."
"Yes. . . yes. . ." The voice seemed to shake a little. "You have the pictures — all of them — and everything is all right. . .
Yes, sir.
I may say — thank you very much, sir."
The phone rang back in five minutes.
I had finished my drink and it made me feel as if I could eat the dinner I had forgotten all about; I went out leaving the telephone ringing.
It was ringing when I came back; It rang at intervals until half-past twelve.