“You don’t know the worst of it. Max didn’t kill Noonan’s brother. Tim didn’t say ‘Max.’ He tried to say ‘MacSwain,’ and died before he could finish.”
She grabbed my shoulders and tried to shake my hundred and ninety pounds. She was almost strong enough to do it.
“God damn you!” Her breath was hot in my face. Her face was white as her teeth. Rouge stood out sharply like red labels pasted on her mouth and cheeks. “If you’ve framed him and made me frame him, you’ve got to kill him—now.”
I don’t like being manhandled, even by young women who look like something out of mythology when they’re steamed up. I took her hands off my shoulders, and said:
“Stop bellyaching. You’re still alive.”
“Yes, still. But I know Max better than you do. I know how much chance anybody that frames him has got of staying alive long. It would be bad enough if we had got him right, but—”
“Don’t make so much fuss over it. I’ve framed my millions and nothing’s happened to me. Get your hat and coat and we’ll feed. You’ll feel better then.”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m going out. Not with that—”
“Stop it, sister. If he’s that dangerous he’s just as likely to get you here as anywhere. So what difference does it make?”
“It makes a—You know what you’re going to do? You’re going to stay here until Max is put out of the way. It’s your fault and you’ve got to look out for me. I haven’t even got Dan. He’s in the hospital.”