The Gambling Debt
“You are Jessica Paltrow?”
She cracked the door and peeked out at the men on the other side.
“Yes?”
“Nick Paltrow's wife?
“I am,” she said, hesitating. “Is something the matter?”
“In a manner of speaking, Mrs. Paltrow. You need to come with us.”
Her green eyes moved from the stout balding man to the taller one with the dark complexion and the trimmed mustache. Neither one looked friendly.
“Your husband's in some trouble and needs your help.”
“Trouble? About what?”
“A debt, Mrs. Paltrow. A gambling debt. If you want to see him again, you'd better come with us.” The silver gun tucked into his pants flashed in the pale yellow light from the outside lamp.
“I'll get dressed,” she said. She started to close the door, but the stocky man's shoulder butted again
