“Both of them?” he asked incredulously.
“Both of who?”
“Her and her father.”
“Yeah.”
He put his chin far down on his chest and rubbed the back of one hand with the palm of the other.
“Then I am in a hole,” he said slowly.
“That’s what,” I cheerfully agreed. “Want to try talking yourself out of it?”
“Let me think.”
I let him think, listening to the tick of the clock while he thought. Thinking brought drops of sweat out on his gray-white face. Presently he sat up straight, wiping his face with a fancily colored handkerchief.
“I’ll talk,” he said. “I’ve got to talk now. Sue was getting ready to ditch Babe. She and I were going away. She—Here, I’ll show you.”
He put his hand in his pocket and held out a folded sheet of thick notepaper to me. I took it and read:
Dear Joe—
I can’t stand this much longer—we’ve simply got to go soon. Babe beat me again tonight. Please, if you really love me, let’s make it soon.
The handwriting was a nervous woman’s, tall, angular, and piled up.