"I came over to give him two hundred bucks in return for certain information.
The offer holds.
I have the money.
Where are you?"
"Didn't he tell you?"
"No."
"Perhaps you'd better ask him.
Where is he?"
"I can't ask him.
Do you know a man named Canino?"
Her gasp came as clearly as though she had been beside me.
"Do you want the two C's or not?" I asked.
"I — I want it pretty bad, mister."
"All right then.
Tell me where to bring it."
"I — I" Her voice trailed off and came back with a panic rush. "Where's Harry?"
"Got scared and blew.
Meet me somewhere — anywhere at all — I have the money."
"I don't believe you — about Harry.
It's a trap."
"Oh stuff.
I could have had Harry hauled in long ago.
There isn't anything to make a trap for.
Canino got a line on Harry somehow and he blew.
I want quiet, you want quiet, Harry wants quiet."
Harry already had it.
Nobody could take it away from him.
"You don't think I'd stooge for Eddie Mars, do you, angel?"
"No-o, I guess not.
Not that.
I'll meet you in half an hour.
Beside Bullocks Wilshire, the east entrance to the parking lot."
"Right," I said.
I dropped the phone in its cradle.
The wave of almond odor flooded me again, and the sour smell of vomit.
The little dead man sat silent in his chair, beyond fear, beyond change.
I left the office.
Nothing moved in the dingy corridor. No pebbled glass door had light behind it.
I went down the fire stairs to the second floor and from there looked down at the lighted roof of the elevator cage.
I pressed the button.
Slowly the car lurched into motion.
I ran down the stairs again.
The car was above me when I walked out of the building.
It was raining hard again. I walked into it with the heavy drops slapping my face.
When one of them touched my tongue I knew that my mouth was open and the ache at the side of my jaws told me it was open wide and strained back, mimicking the rictus of death carved upon the face of Harry Jones.
27
"Give me the money."
The motor of the gray Plymouth throbbed under her voice and the rain pounded above it.
The violet light at the top of Bullock's green-tinged tower was far above us, serene and withdrawn from the dark, dripping city.
Her black-gloved hand reached out and I put the bills in it.