Francine Ley stroked his head, without speaking.
«Handsome is dead,» De Ruse went on. «The peeper shot his face off.»
Francine Ley’s hand stopped. In a moment it began again, stroking his head.
«The Candless frau was in on it. Seems she’s a hot number. She wanted Hugo’s dough, and she wanted all the men in the world except Hugo. Thank heaven she didn’t get bumped. She talked plenty. So did Zapparty.»
«Yes, honey,» Francine Ley said quietly.
De Ruse yawned. «Candless is dead. He was dead before we started. They never wanted him anything else but dead. Parisi didn’t care one way or the other, as long as he got paid.»
Francine Ley said: «Yes, honey.»
«Tell you the rest in the morning,» De Ruse said thickly. «I guess Nicky and I are all square with the law … Let’s go to Reno, get married… I’m sick of this tomcat life … Get me ’nother drink, baby.»
Francine Ley didn’t move except to draw her fingers softly and soothingly across his forehead and back over his temples. De Ruse moved lower in the chair. His head rolled to one side.
«Yes, honey.»
«Don’t call me honey,» De Ruse said thickly. «Just call me pigeon.»
When he was quite asleep she got off the arm of the chair and went and sat down near him. She sat very still and watched him, her face cupped in her long delicate hands with the cherry-colored nails.