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Chapter Seven-1
Chapter Seven I nursed my anger for the better part of a night. She’d be at my cellar door come morning, that’s if Harry left at the usual hour. It wouldn’t be a pretty session. I dwelled on her duplicity—the big lie she never even hinted about. The parties, the set-ups with other men. She was little more than her husband’s w***e from what I could gather. Fine for him, but she comes crying to me? I was as bewildered as I was angry. What kind of woman was she? Impulse and stupidity sometimes work in tandem, which they did that night. I called Davis, out of the blue. It had been some time since we’d spoken, enough so that he had to hesitate when I told him who I was. “Marc! Hey, guy, what’s up? Awful late, isn’t it?” “Ten too late for you now?” “Heck, I have this steady thing going on
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