I said, “You certainly gave me a surprise.”
He fidgeted with his tie. “Yes, I'm mighty sorry about all this,” he said.
“All right. Let's have a drink first and then we can talk about it. You tell me, how're things with you?”
He shrugged a little. “Oh, I'm making out all right.”
“And the wife?”
“Yes, she's fine.”
We rode the block in silence after that. I was beginning to get the jitters. We got out at a quiet restaurant off the main street that was unlikely to be crowded, and we made our way upstairs.
When we got settled, and after we had knocked back a few drinks, I thought it time for him to get down to things.
“Now, what is all this about?”
“Well, I'm darned sorry about this, Mason, but we just can't take any more of your stuff.”
“Can't or won't?”
He twiddled with his glass, and he wouldn't meet my eye, “It's nothin' to do with me,” he explained hastily. “I've had instructions from the old man.”
I sat back and let that one sink in. As I didn't say anything, he went on, “I guess you've got yourself in bad somehow. The old man's put the bar up.”
“Did he say why?”
Johnson shook his head. “He just sent me a note. You know the type of note he sends out: 'Mr. Hawkins's compliments, and do not accept any further work from Mr. Nick Mason.' ”
I shrugged. “I guess he's gone nuts,” I said. “Here, have another drink.”
We got through the meal somehow and then Johnson took himself off. I could see he was mighty glad to get shot of me. I stayed on after he'd gone and thought about things. Then I paid the bill and went over to a telephone-booth. I rang the press-room and asked for Ackie.
“Listen, Ackie, am I barred?”
“Yeah,” he said, “you're washed up. What can I do about it for you?”
I thought a moment. “This is Spencer's idea of getting me out of town.”
“Looks like it.”
“I'm in a spot, Mo,” I said. “I want some money.”
Ackie gave a groan. “Hell! Is it as bad as that?”
“Well, I guess not as bad as all that. I can run for a couple of weeks, but I've gotta get some dough.”
“You can count on me. I'll let you have some.”
I grinned ruefully into the mouthpiece. “That's swell of you, but I've gotta earn a livin'. You can't keep me and Mardi all your life.”
“Maybe it'll clear up by then, or maybe you'd better get moving.”
I said, “I'll let you know,” and I hung up.
So I was barred. This was serious. I walked out into the street thinking. Spencer looked like getting his own way. I knew I was up against a powerful mob, and I knew when to quit. It looked to me right then that I'd better pack up and move to another State.
I was feeling pretty low by the time I got back to the fishing-lodge. I didn't want to worry Mardi, but at the same time I wanted her to know just how I stood. I didn't know how far Spencer's influence carried. He was rich enough to carry weight with all the nationals. If the bosses had shares in this phoney business, they'd be glad to give him my head on a plate.
I walked up the drive, after I had parked the car in the garage. There was no sign of Mardi. I went quietly so that I should surprise her.
On my way up-town I'd got her two pairs of silk stockings. I'd felt pretty mushy buying them, but once I got clear of the shop I was glad. I guessed she would be pleased, because up to now I hadn't bought her anything.
I beetled into the hall and made for the kitchen. She wasn't there. So I went into the dining-room. The light was burning, but she wasn't there either. I was just going upstairs when I saw something that brought me up short.
I stood there feeling cold chills running through me, and a sick feeling gathering inside me. I tried to kid myself that the two dark stains at my feet were paint stains, but I knew they weren't. Slowly, I knelt down and touched one of them with my finger-tips. It was wet and sticky.
I stood up, looking at my fingers in the electric light. They were a bright red. Without knowing what I was doing I walked into the kitchen and let the water from the sink tap run over my hands. Deliberately I took a towel and wiped them dry.
I was so scared and sick that I was afraid to do anything else. I just stood there holding the towel, sweating ice. I heard myself say out loud: “Don't let them have killed her... don't let them have killed her... please, God... don't let them have killed her.”
I told myself I'd have to go and look. I had to go upstairs and see where she was, but that's as far as I
