"I know Guido," she answered. "I can get the truth out of him."
"You can try."
She stood up. "I'll take a cab," she said.
"What?" He rose himself. "You're not going there now?"
"When else? I'm sorry, it's a shabby way to treat you, but do you think
something like this can wait?"
"A murderer is hanging around that place," he said. "You can see Guido
tomorrow at your parents', but tonight I won't have it."
She grinned. There was even a little humor in the expression. "What do
you plan to do?"
"Call the police!" he rapped.
She said like a sword: "By the time you've explained all the ins and
outs to them, I'll have taken him elsewhere. And you needn't bother
speaking to either of us again."
He took her by the wrist. "Let me go," she said, almost casually.
"Wait a second." Again he knew the night feeling, that he must go, and
that that would happen which another force than he had willed. But
somehow, crazily, this time he was glad of it.
"Just wait for me," he finished.
14
The doorkeeper-bouncer was the first obstacle. Kintyre wished he had
worn a hat. Nothing disguised him except a gray suit; the square of
bandage at his hairline felt like a searchlight.
"Follow my lead," whispered Corinna as they went down the stairs.
It was dark in the doorway, and narrow. She contrived to get herself
squeezed between Kintyre and the other man; and as she slithered by
she threw him such a look that he would have let a rhinoceros enter
unnoticed beside her.
The Alley Cat was full tonight. Mostly the cool crowd, Kintyre judged,
drawn by the rumors of last night's affair. He could not help himself,
but whispered to Corinna: "Where in the hell did you learn to put five
thousand volts of raw sex into three motions and one sidelong glance?"
"Theater." Even at this moment, when she saw through a harsh blue haze
her brother who might be a murderer singing a dirty ballad, she could
have been a female Puck. "Also, it helps to live with a cat."
They threaded their way along the wall until they found a table in
shadow. "We can see him at the intermission," he proposed. She nodded.
The waitress who lit their candle--Kintyre snuffed it again when she
had left--and brought them a demi of burgundy, paid them no special
attention. Well, it was long established that an excited eyewitness has
no value. Those who saw the fight had not really seen the fighters.
Corinna fell silent, resting her cheek on one fist. She didn't drink
at all. Kintyre tried to read the way she was looking at Guido, but
understood only a troubled tenderness.
"Mind if I join you?"
Kintyre looked up, startled, into Trygve Yamamura's flat face. "Oh,"
he said stupidly. "Sit down. Miss Lombardi, this is--" He explained in
detail.
"I'm glad to know you," she said. Her eyes added: _Maybe. It will
depend on what comes next._ Guido's guitar twanged and capered. His
voice overrode the room, as full of satyr laughter as if it had never
known anything else. "With his whack-fol-de-diddle-di-day--"
"Were we that conspicuous coming in?" whispered Kintyre.
"Lay off the stage hiss," Yamamura told him. "A low speaking voice
draws less attention. No, you pulled it off okay. It was only that I
was making it my business to see everyone who comes in. Still am." His
eyes remained in motion as he sat holding his beer; the rest of him was
nearly limp, taking its ease until a muscle should be needed.
"Been here long?" asked Kintyre.
"Couple hours, since the act went on," said Yamamura. "I tailed Guido
from his place. Before then, though, I assumed he wouldn't leave his
four safe walls, so I found plenty to do elsewhere."