“Thanks,” I said and meant it. “We’ll buy a drink.”
Nora said, “Sure,” and got up from the edge of the bed.
The big sandy man watched her go out of the room. He shook his head solemnly. His voice was solemn: “By God, sir, you’re a lucky man.” He suddenly held out his hand. “My name’s Guild, John Guild.”
“You know mine.” We shook hands.
Nora came back with a siphon, a bottle of Scotch, and some glasses on a tray. She tried to give Morelli a drink, but Guild stopped her. “It’s mighty kind of you, Mrs. Charles, but it’s against the law to give a prisoner drinks or drugs except on a doctor’s say-so.” He looked at me. “Ain’t that right?”
I said it was. The rest of us drank.
Presently Guild set down his empty glass and stood up. “I got to take this gun along with me, but don’t you worry about that. We got plenty of time to talk when you’re feeling better.” He took Nora’s hand and made an awkward bow over it. “I hope you didn’t mind what I said back there awhile ago, but I meant it in a–”
Nora can smile very nicely. She gave him one of her nicest smiles. “Mind? I liked it.”
She let the policemen and their prisoner out. Keyser had gone a few minutes before.
“He’s sweet,” she said when she came back from the door. “Hurt much?”
“No.”
“It’s pretty much my fault, isn’t it?”
“Nonsense. How about another drink?”
She poured me one. “I wouldn’t take too many of these today.”
“I won’t,” I promised. “I could do with some kippers for breakfast. And, now our troubles seem to be over for a while, you might have them send up our absentee watchdog. And tell the operator not to give us any calls; there’ll probably be reporters.”
“What are you going to tell the police about Dorothy’s pistol? You’ll have to tell them something, won’t you?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Tell me the truth, Nick: have I been too silly?”
I shook my head. “Just silly enough.”
She laughed, said, “You’re a Greek louse,” and went around to the telephone.
9
Nora said: “You’re just showing off, that’s all it is. And what for? I know bullets bounce off you. You don’t have to prove it to me.”
“It’s not going to hurt me to get up.”
“And it’s not going to hurt you to stay in bed at least one day. The doctor said–”
“If he knew anything he’d cure his own snuffles.” I sat up and put my feet on the floor. Asta tickled them with her tongue.
Nora brought me slippers and robe. “All right, hard guy, get up and bleed on the rugs.”
I stood up cautiously and seemed to be all right as long as I went easy with my left arm and kept out of the way of Asta’s front feet.
“Be reasonable,” I said. “I didn’t want to get mixed up with these people–still don’t–but a fat lot of good that’s doing me. Well, I can’t just blunder out of it. I’ve got to see.”
“Let’s go away,” she suggested. “Let’s go to Bermuda or Havana for a week or two, or back to the Coast.”
“I’d still have to tell the police some kind of story about that gun. And suppose it turns out to be the gun she was killed with? If they don’t know already they’re finding out.”
“Do you really think it is?”
“That’s guessing. We’ll go there for dinner tonight and–”
“We’ll do nothing of the kind. Have you gone completely nuts? If you want to see anybody have them come here.”
“It’s not the same thing.” I put my arms around her. “Stop worrying about this scratch. I’m all right.”
“You’re showing off,” she said. “You want to let people see you’re a hero who can’t be stopped by bullets.”
“Don’t be nasty.”
“I will be nasty. I’m not going to have you–”
I shut her mouth with a hand over it. “I want to see the Jorgensens together at home, I want to see Macaulay, and I want to see Studsy Burke. I’ve been pushed around too much. I’ve got to see about things.”