Chapter 9
On the outside, the hut looked like it had been built with driftwood by some castaways on a desert island. As we approached the front entrance, I wondered if it was safe to go inside. Because every board was nailed on cockeyed. The roof was swaybacked. And one end of the roof had already collapsed.
But inside, it was better. Sure, it looked like they had used driftwood in there, too. Nothing was straight with the world. The posts supporting the ceiling were cockeyed and not straight. Even the bar was higher on one end than on the other.
A tall gaunt maitre d' with a blad head and deep-set eyes came up with a big smile. He led us to a booth in a far corner. It was quiet and secluded there.
Sharon looked at me. "Do you like martinis?"
"Yes. Sometimes."
"Then let's have a martini," Sharon said. A waiter in a monkey suit came up. Sharon ordered. He nodded and handed each of us a menu and withdrew. "Hmmm, the prime rib looks good," Sharon said. "What are you having?"
"I'll have the prime rib, too, if it's rare," I said. "But I don't want the whole dinner. Just the baked potato and salad and coffee."
She nodded and opened her purse. She offered me a cigarette and I leaned toward her lighter. She got one going for herself.
"So Johnny Blake had the back of his head smashed in," she began.
I nodded. "That's what Tim says."
"And you didn't do it?"
"Hell, I was half dead. He was choking me."
"Yeah, but if your hand found that rock...."
"Now don't you start that," I said. "As far gone as I was, I wasn't thinking. My hands weren't out searching for something to hit him with. I knew I was at the end of the line. But, strangely enough, I didn't care."
"But why?"
I shrugged. "Perhaps it's part of the death throes. When you're that far gone, you accept your fate."-
"And you didn't hear anything?"
"No. I was beyond hearing or being aware of anything."
"But why did he do that to you?"
"Because I clawed his face. If I got out of there alive, I could have identified him the next day. He knew it. So I had to die."
She nodded, was silent, and dragged on her cigarette. The drinks were served. She picked hers up, pensively, and sipped it.
"So what do you think about Millie?"
"I dunno."
"Know what I think?" I shook my head.
"I think those two deaths are tied together."
I struggled to keep my face blank. "Why?" I asked.
She looked around her. Then she leaned forward toward me. "Have you heard of the military recreation center near Slocum?"
I nodded. "Some of the guys have been into my shop."
She looked around again. Then she looked back at me. "It's more than a recreation center," she whispered.
I stared at her for a moment. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not free to say. Let's just say that national security is involved."
"Talk sense, will you?"
"Sure. When you have something like that up there, you're bound to have termites trying to burrow into it."
"You think that Johnny Blake and Millie were involved?"
She shrugged. "I knew Johnny pretty well. I dated him some in high school. He was a wild one, even then."
"So why would he be tied to anything like that?" I asked.
"For kicks. He's had everything, been everywhere, seen everything, had every kind of woman, and had everything else. The idle rich are bored. So was Johnny. I bumped into him about two years ago. He was completely blase. Then I bumped into him about six or eight months ago. What a change. He was a different person."
"But that still doesn't tie him to anything," I said.
"I know. But until a year ago, when he came home, he hadn't been home for five years. During the last year he's been home at least once a month. And another thing-the old man always had to send the chauffeur in for Johnny. But not during the last year. He always drove up there. Why?"
"I think you're trying to make something out of thin air," I told her.
"Perhaps I am. But I've had my eye on Johnny for the last year. And I'm not the only one."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not at liberty to say. So let's just say that he's been under surveillance."
I nodded. This was beginning to jibe with what I had thought, but without any fact or reason. I still kept my face blank and played dumb.
Again we smoked and sipped our drinks in silence. I wondered how much she was going to tell me.
"What about Millie?" she finally asked.
"What about Millie?"
"Was she the life of the party this afternoon? Was she gay and carefree like she used to be?"
I shook my head. "No. She stayed in her corner and kept to herself."
"Did she join in?"
"Yes. One go-round. But Tim said it was short."
She nodded. "I met Millie two or three months ago. She was in town to see Dr. Crocker. She said that Crocker told her it was depression. But it didn't look like depression to me."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, I don't know. We had lunch together. She acted more worried than depressed. Was she that way today?"
"I don't know," I said. "I've never seen her before. So I have no way to judge."
"I don't mean to alarm you," she went on. "But I've been tipped. The D.A.'s going before the Grand Jury Monday morning. He's going to get an indictment against you for murdering Johnny Blake."
I stared at her. "But why?"
"Because you're one fish that got away, so far. The D.A. doesn't like that. He never loses."
"Tim says that the D.A. and the sheriff are puppets and old man Blake pulls the strings."
She nodded.
"So that's why I'm being arrested again?"
"Could be."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I don't know. But something stinks. If they railroad you, everybody will forget about Johnny's death. And I think that's the way they want it."
"But why?"
"As I say, I have nothing to go on. But they're sure in a sweat to close the case on Johnny's death. I know that. Why, I don't know."
"Could it be because Johnny Blake was tied to the wrong crowd?"
"Could be. By closing the case, they can hush it up. Then, perhaps, it won't come out about Johnny's unknown friends."
"So what am I supposed to do-just sit around and wait for them to railroad me?"
The waiter came up, pushing a cart. He served the dinner.
"Coffee now or later?" he asked.
"Later for me," Sharon said. She looked at me.
I nodded. The waiter withdrew.
"There's something you might do," she said. "But it could be dangerous. You might even wind up dead."
"What?" I asked.
She unfolded her napkin and laid it across her lap. She picked up her fork and dabbled with her baked potato.
She finally looked back at me. "I shouldn't be telling you this. I could be the cause of your death. Perhaps you're better off to sit tight and leave everything to Tim."
"There's a limit to what Tim can do. If there's anything I can do, I want to do it. What do you have in mind?"
"Ever hear of The Hideaway?"
I shook my head.
"You know where you turn off to Pete McDonald's?"
"No. But I know it's down the grade."
"Okay. You go about another mile."
"Before you turn off to Dear Flat?"
"Yes. The Hideaway is on the left about a mile below where you turn off to Pete's place."
"And what about it?"
"The recreation camp is about a mile or so back in from The Hideaway. You go down the grade about a half-mile and turn left. I was there once. I did a story on the camp two or three months ago. Well, anyway, that's where the servicemen hang out at night."
I cut off a piece of prime rib and stuck it in my mouth. I frowned and chewed on it for a moment.
"What are you trying to tell me?" I asked.
"Just this. If the servicemen are drinking in there, you can bet that others are there, too."
"You're talking in riddles," I told her.
"Well, I happened to stumble on this other thing. And a tall guy in a dark suit called on me one night. He showed me his ID. It damn near scared me to death. He had found out about what I had stumbled onto. He threatened me with everything if I talked. So I'm taking a big chance telling you as much as I have."
"I won't say anything," I told her.
"Okay. So because of what's over there in the hills, you can bet on it that others are hanging around The Hideaway every night, hoping to overhear something, or to get someone drunk so he will talk."
"But surely the military have spies in there, too."
"That's right. That's why I can't go up there. I'm known. But you're single and you're lonely. The servicemen come into your shop. You happened to overhear about The Hideaway, or you found out about it somehow. So you go down there some night and play it cool. I don't know whether you'll be approached. I don't know what will happen. But I know this much, sitting in your back room every night won't get you in touch with anything. I can also tell you this-if someone is trying to burrow in up there, they play rough. So what will probably happen is that they'll want you to join them. Then you'll have to sit around The Hideaway every night and let the servicemen buy drinks for you. You'll keep your ears open."
"I wouldn't do such a thing," I said.
"If you're offered such a chance, it's a helluva big chance you'll come out of it alive. But, if you're lucky, you may be able to find out what's going on. And, whatever's going on, caused Johnny's and Millie's deaths. I'll make book on it."
"Isn't it possible that Millie committed suicide?"
"Yes. Dick Padgett may be mixed up somehow. Because Millie told me that this depression started about a year ago. Well, that's about the time that Johnny started getting homesick every month. So perhaps Johnny and Dick were into it together. Or separately."
My head was spinning. I am no Mata Hari. So we ate our dinner in silence.
As we pushed back our plates and reached for our coffee, I said, "I'm not chicken. But all this doesn't appeal to me. I think I'd better talk it over with Tim."
"Tim would never let you go down there alone."
"I know it. But I think Tim should know what's back there in the hills."
"Tell him, by all means. If he comes up to the apartment tonight, I'll tell him. I think that's the missing link connecting the two deaths."
"That's what I thought all along," I blurted.
"What do you mean?"
"I told Tim there was a missing link. I didn't know what it was. But I thought the two deaths were connected. Tim laughed at me."
"He would. But he won't after I get through talking with him."
"Are you going to suggest to Tim that I play Mata Hari?" I asked.
"No. He'd blow his stack and be mad at me. Perhaps I was nuts to suggest it to you. Perhaps you're better off to let Tim handle it and you play it safe."
"But if I am indicted?"
"Then they'll arrest you."
"That isn't what I mean," I said. "I'm not about to go back to that jail again. Is there any way you can tip me off before the cops can get to me?"
"Yes. But it's dangerous for me."
"It's dangerous for me, too," I reminded her. "So are you willing to tip me off?"
"Yes. Have you got a phone?"
"No. But you can call Sy Perkins. He'll keep his mouth shut. He's for me."
"Okay, here's what I'll tell Sy. I'll have him tell you that I didn't buy that stock we talked about. It suddenly went down."
I nodded. "You can say that again."
She grinned. "So then what are you going to do? Run?"
"What else?"
"Where to?"
"I don't know. But I have a damn good idea."
"What?"
"If there's hanky-panky going on out there, you can make book on it that the bartender is in on it."
"You've just lost me."
"Listen, if the bartender's in on it, and I'm on the run...."
She nodded. "Yeah, I see what you mean. But you still might wind up with your head under your arm."
"So what? While they're looking for me, Tim can try to straighten the thing out. And while he's trying to straighten it out, I will, too."
She shook her head. "You've got more guts than I have. I'd rather go to jail and wait for Tim to get me out."
"Have you ever seen the inside of that jail?"
"Once. That was enough."
"Okay, so would you want to sit there for six months until a trial?"
"It wouldn't be that long. The D.A. would rush it through."
"Okay, so it would be one week. That's one week too long for me. No thanks. If you'll tip me, I'll take to the hills."
"Okay, that I will."
"And don't you let on to Tim what I plan to do," I said.
"I won't." She gave me a big wink and reached over and patted my hand. "After all, we women have to hang together."
The lights were low, the music was soft and sweet, and Sharon kicked off her shoes and began whirling and dancing around her living room.
"I took dancing lessons when I was a kid," Sharon said, trying to stand on her toes. "So sometimes I still put on a stack of records like these and get it out of my system."
I nodded and dragged on my cigarette, and sipped my drink. I said nothing.
"Do you like to dance?"
"Just ballroom," I told her. "I'm a square. I've never gone in for the Frug or the Watusi or any of that kind of stuff."
"This is a waltz," she told me. "So how about that?" I nodded.
"Put up your drink and cigarette and join me," she said.
I stood up and went over to her.
"Mind if I lead?" she asked.
I shook my head and went into her arms.
"Put your right hand on my shoulder," she said.
I did. And she put her left hand on my right shoulder. And our other hands were clasped and held to the side.
The music seemed to flow through her. She glided around the floor and swept me around with her. She reminded me of thistledown in a breeze.
"How about cheek to cheek?" she asked. I nodded.
Her left hand dropped off my shoulder and encircled my waist. She clamped me to her. She pressed her cheek against mine. How fragrant she smelled. How thrilling it was to be pressed against her slim body while whirling round and round.
"Do you mind if I kiss you?" she finally whispered.
"No," I said, knowing full well where it would wind up. But by then I was so charged I did not care.
She pulled her face away and stared into my eyes for a moment. I could see the first flickering flames of passion rising deep within hers.
Her lips mashed against mine. At first it was a dry kiss. Then her tongue slithered between my lips and began to tease my tongue.
I exploded. I was surprised that such a contact could make me go. My body stiffened. I hugged her to me as I went again and again. And she pressed me to her even tighter.
Again she pulled her face away and gave me a Mona Lisa smile. She kissed me on the tip of my nose and softly laughed.
This was beautiful. This was delightful. This was far more wonderful than I had ever imagined it could be. With Sharon, that is. But with Lila ... I shuddered and shut it out of my mind.
Her left hand loosened its clamp against my back. Her right hand freed my left and came between us, to gently caress my breast. Shock waves of passion crashed through me. I moaned and once more my body stiffened. Her lips again found mine and her tongue bored in. No longer was it cautious. It was a whirling dervish inside my mouth. It flogged my tongue and charged me even more.
Her right hand left my breast, went behind me, and grabbed the zipper tab at the back of my neck. It yanked.
She pulled her face away and her two hands pulled my dress down off my shoulders. My arms struggled up and were free. We stood still for a moment and she shucked me. My dress and panties fell to the floor. I kicked them away. Her hands returned behind me and freed my bra. It was cast aside.
Again her left hand clamped against my back. Her right hand found my breast and tenderly massaged it and plucked the nipple. Her lips zeroed in on mine and her tongue came out to play.
And then she swung me around and we glided across the floor. But all the while her tongue and hands were busy. I arched my back. The muscles in my belly knotted. The tidal wave of passion within me demanded release.
I pulled my face free. "Take me," I whispered, "take me."
She whirled me around once more and swept me onto the couch. She stood beside me a moment. And then she was as naked as a plum.
She lay prone on me and her soft hand slid under my shoulders. Her lips came down to join mine. Once again her tongue dived in. And then she began grinding her bone in a circular motion against mine.
She suddenly grabbed me to her. Her body stiffened as did mine. Together we blew and blew and blew, with our tongues savagely duelling. How wonderful it was.
She finally pulled her face away, gasping for breath.
"Like it?" she whispered.
"Yes, oh yes. Love me more."
"There's lots of ways to go," she said.
She slid downward and sat on my thighs. She began planting sucking kisses on my throat and on my chest. She wiggled down lower. Her lips kissed my breasts while her hands gently milked them. Again my body stiffened. Once more I began popping like a string of firecrackers.
Her sucking kisses moved downward, starting their southward trek. They were planted all over my belly. They stopped momentarily at my navel while her tongue dived in to explore. I yelped. And that really blew me again.
Her kisses moved down and down and down. Her warm moist lips found my inner thighs and showered them with kisses, too.
Reality began to take flight. I closed my eyes and threw back my head as my scrabbling fingers clawed at the couch.
I felt her shifting around. My legs were suddenly shoved up and apart. My feet were on her shoulders. Her nibbling kisses worked down one thigh and her lips brushed my curls before working their way up the other thigh. I was wild. I arched my back and raised my butt about a foot off the couch.
I felt her soft fingers parting the curtains to my joybox. And then her warm tongue caressed and slipped inside.
I screamed as I exploded. I arched my back even higher until I was supported by my shoulders with my feet on her shoulders.
But that was only the beginning. Tremendous depth charges exploded again and again and again within me. I finally collapsed and lay flat on the couch, fighting for breath.
Again she crawled up and lay prone on me, shoving her hands under my back, and cuddling me to her. Her nibbling lips gently kissed my cheeks and forehead. Passion began to rise within me once more. My body began to stiffen.
Once more her bone was grinding into mine. Passion flared again within me.
Bui it was noi io be the same this time. She slid off the couch and got wheeled around. She straddled mc and her butt slowly lowered to my face. My hands came up to support her. How pungent she smelled. And then my lips made contact as her lips made contact with me. Our tongues danced in unison. We grabbed each other around the hips and began rocking up and down.
It was a good thing she had pulled the coffee table away before she started dancing. Because we were thrashing around so violently that we rolled off the couch.
How rough the carpet felt. But it did not matter. I was far out in space and nothing else mattered.
Locked together, we rolled and flopped all over the floor. I was like an exploding ammunition dump that couldn't quit. And she was even more violent. And then, with me on my back, she released me. My arms relaxed and she raised up slightly.
How beautiful and crimson and glistening it was, with the lips hard and erect. I tugged her down again and my tongue once more made contact. How thrilling it was, with my tongue gliding around and darting inside, and hearing her moan and scream.
She grabbed me again. Once more we started rolling. But it couldn't last long. We were too beat.
We finally fell apart and lay there fighting for breath. She presently lurched to her feet and went into the kitchen. I heard her clattering around.
She soon came back, carrying two drinks. She handed one to me. I managed to get up on one elbow and take it and sip it. She stuck two cigarettes between her lips and lit them. She handed one to me.
And then we lay there side by side, working on our drinks and cigarettes. She finally crawled over closer to me and her lips lightly brushed mine.
"You are a wonderful lover," she whispered.
"So are you," I told her. "Now I realize what I've been missing all these years."
A chime sounded. Sharon frowned.
"What the hell," she muttered.
She set her drink on the coffee table and padded over to the hall door. "Who is it?"
"Tim."
"You were supposed to call first."
"Why?"
Sharon unbolted the door. She got behind it and pulled it back the length of the chain. She peered out. "What's going on in there?" Tim asked. "Nothing. Just a minute."
She shut the door and unchained it. She swung it back a little. Tim strode in.
He looked at me sprawled on the floor and turned to look at Sharon, who was closing and bolting and chaining the door.
"Did you bring her out?" Tim asked. "Yes. And she loved it." Tim looked around at me. "You okay?"
"Sure. I had a ball."
He shook his head. "I always get here too late."
"Not at all," Sharon told him. "The night is young and the party is just starting. So out of your clothes. I'll build you a drink."
Sharon fled into the kitchen. Again she was clattering around. She came back with a drink.
Tim was shrugging out of his shirt. He was bare to the waist. His slacks were next to go. Nude, he took the drink from Sharon.
He went over to the coffee table and got a cigarette and lit it. Sharon and I climbed on the couch.
"Well, what's the latest?" Sharon asked. "Was it suicide?"
"Yes," Tim said. "Some kind of a corrosive poison. They'll have to make an analysis to find out what."
"How do they know it was suicide?" I asked.
"Simple. Her fingertips were burned from opening the bottle."
"What a helluva way to die," Sharon muttered.
Tim nodded.
"But why?" I asked.
"Who knows?" Tim said.
"Sharon doesn't think it was depression, either," I said.
"No?" Tim looked at Sharon. "Why?"
"She was scared stiff of something or worried. Perhaps we'll never find out what it was."
"But," I said., "I wonder why she did it there at Pete's place."
"I'll hazard a guess," Sharon said, "that it was because she had to face something after the party was over. It was too much. Perhaps she had carried that poison for months, to be taken whenever she had to face that situation."
"You're way out in left field," Tim said.
"Am I?" Sharon asked. "Connie has been telling me her theory about the missing link. Well, she's right."
"How?" Tim asked.
Sharon told him.
Tim frowned and his face became dark and brooding.
"Intelligence is swarming around out there if what you say is true. Nobody would have a chance to worm their way in out there."
"Oh, no?" Sharon asked. "Remember the security on the atom bomb? They had the best security in the world, and the Commies walked away with all the marbles."
Tim nodded. "But I think you're blowing this up out of all proportion. You're going in for cloak and dagger like Connie did."
"Have it your way," Sharon said, standing up. "Well, let's get the party going."
She walked over to a tape recorder. She picked up a tape and threaded it. Then she pressed a button.
She came back over to the couch and sat down beside me. "This is my own private collection from tapings I've made at parties."
It started with a squeaking bed. And there were gasps and moans and low screams. The tempo of the bed got faster and faster. The gasps and moans speeded up, too.
"He's really giving it to her," Tim said with a grin.
Sharon nodded. "That's me doing all the gasping and moaning. That was my first try at taping. And did he have a big one."
There was a long wail and a scream. Then a grunt. And you could hear the panting and the gasping for breath. Then there was silence, broken only by the crackling of the tape.
"End of Round I," Sharon said. "There'll be more in a moment."
There was. Everything in the book. Women together, screeching and moaning and gasping, with the bed bouncing.
This went on for nearly a half-hour. Tim had a hard on. And we girls were hotter than a stove lid.
"There's just one more," Sharon said. "It's really way out. I hid a mike under the bed. They'd probably kill me if they knew I had it on tape."
It started with a man's voice. "There's nothing like a swim to cool you off."
Another man said, "Yeah. I can't wait to get out of this wet suit."
There was silence a moment. Then the first voice said, "Here's a towel."
"Thanks."
Again there was silence for a moment. Once more the first man's voice. "Hey, you've got a big one."
"Yeah. Too big. I have trouble getting into some women."
Silence.
"Oooooooh!"
"Feel good?"
"Yes. But you'd better knock it off. You're giving me a hard on."
"So what? I can take care of that."
"I've never had it with a man before."
"Want to?"
"I dunno. Oooooooh!"
"Get on the bed."
There was the sound of the bed squeaking. "Fell good when I rub it this way?"
"Yes. Goddamn."
"If you think it feels good now, wait till I go down on it."
"Oooooooh!"
The bed was protesting again. I glanced over at Tim. His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily. I looked at Sharon and winked.
"Give it to me, too."
The bed squeaked again. And then began a rhythmic motion, faster and faster and faster.
And then all was still for a moment. Then heavy breathing. And then the tape started crackling again.
Sharon went over and turned off the tape recorder. She turned around, grinning.
"I had a cottage on the lake last summer. Had a gang over one Sunday afternoon. Carl said he was going to try to take Harry. So while everyone was swimming, I fixed up the room where they had left their clothes. But I never told them that I had done it. They would have raised holy hell."
"Yeah," Tim agreed, standing up. "So what am I supposed to do, take both of you?"
"Why not?" Sharon asked. "Come on into the bedroom."
We trailed her into the bedroom. She grabbed the spread and pulled the bedding back. She sprawled on the sheet and looked at me. "Have you ever had Tim before?"
"No."
"Well then, you're first. I haven't had him for years. But I still remember."
She turned to Tim. "We'll put her in the middle. We'll both work on her."
Tim pushed me onto the bed on my back. Sharon cuddled up to one side. Tim lay down on the other side.
I was steaming. I didn't need any buildup. But I got one anyway.
Each of them went to work on a breast and nipple. Their free hands roamed around all over my belly and down onto my thighs. Sharon's finger slipped inside.
I exploded with a low scream. And Sharon wheeled around, pulled my legs apart, and her tongue dived in. And all the while Tim was busily at work on my breasts.
Tim raised his head. "Let's have a daisy chain."
Sharon's head came up. "Sure. That's fun."
"What's fun?" I asked.
"We'll show you," Sharon told me.
Sharon rolled me on my side on the edge of the bed. She swung around and lay across the bed with her head between my legs. I saw Tim moving around. He lay down parallel to me, and shoved his head between Sharon's legs. And then Sharon's tongue bored in again. I was having ecstasy such as I had never known.
Tim scooted around. I then saw what he wanted. So I wiggled around, too. I grabbed his massive dong and flicked it with my tongue. And then I slowly went down on it.
How thrilling it was. Each was charging the other. But Tim would only go so far, and then jerk away.
I was limp. I had had it by the time we fell apart. I had seen nothing yet.
Tim dragged me over on the edge of the bed and rolled me on my back. He pulled up my legs and spread them wide. Sharon went to work on my breasts and nipples. I gasped and went into orbit again.
He slid into me with one long slow stroke. I had the most violent eruption I had ever known in my life. And all the while Sharon was kissing me or suckling my breasts. What a double charge.
I was only dimly aware of what was going on. But I finally felt him withdraw.
I opened my eyes. Sharon was lying beside me. He was in her now. But his fingers came over to slip inside me. And then Sharon and I were racing for the wire, flopping and moaning and gasping.
In a few moments he shifted again. I was getting it and Sharon had his fingers. Back and forth he went. I wondered how long he could hold out.
He shifted over to me again.
"You take his load, baby," Sharon told me, squeezing my nipples.
He could hold out no longer. He grabbed me and I grabbed him. The bed was rocking like a boat during a storm. And then I screamed as he let out a long grunt and grabbed me and kept on moaning and rolling around on me. I thought he would never quit.
He finally rolled off beside me and lay on his back. Sharon got up on one elbow and plucked my nipple. I turned and looked at her.
She gave me a big grin. "That will teach him to fool around with us."
I nodded and grinned, too.
"I should have known better," Tim gasped. "I've said it before but I'll say it again-never again with two hot women."
The phone rang.
"Damn," Sharon muttered, reaching for a bedside phone.
"Yes?" Sharon said.
The receiver rattled and squawked.
"They've got no leads, eh?"
More rattling and squawking of the phone.
"Okay," Sharon finally said. "It'll take me a little while to dress. But I'll be right down."
She hung up the phone and looked at Tim. "Sammy Longdon was shot tonight."
I frowned. "Who's he?"
Tim turned to me. "Don't you remember him up at Pete's? The guy with the darting eyes?"
"Oh," I said. "And remember what I also told you?"
"No, what?"
"That before this thing was over," I told him, "someone else might die."