“I don’t know when you’ll see any money,” Patrick said. “The publisher won’t pay until the judge considers the pending injunction against the book. The Blackstones are already trying to block it, and I can’t wait on payment forever.”

“I’ve got an entire case of cigarettes you can have,” Mick offered.

“I don’t smoke.”

“Well, I don’t have any money. You know that.”

“You’ve had an interesting proposition,” Patrick said. “The Blackstones will pay you a thousand dollars for agreeing to drop the book permanently.”

Mick leaned against a gritty brick wall as he drew hard on the cigarette, his eyes pensive. “I was hoping to make a lot more than that.”

“But this is guaranteed money, payable immediately. If you gamble on the memoir, it could be years before the court lets the book go to press. I think you’ll win, but there is no guarantee.”

Mick’s hand trembled even harder. Those tremors were a dead giveaway that Mick hadn’t drunk enough yet tonight to calm the shakes. Up close, the ravages of age and alcohol were easier to see than when he’d been holding forth in the pub.

“The quick money is tempting,” Mick finally said. “I’d pounce on it, but Ruby won’t want to sell out. She has her heart set on buying a place in Brooklyn. A little flat with our own kitchen and maybe even a window. What would you do in my shoes?”

“I’d ask your wife how badly she wants that place in Brooklyn. She won’t get it with a thousand dollars.”

Mick nodded and tossed the butt of the cigarette on the ground, grinding it out with his shabby boot. “Good idea. Let’s go ask her.”

Patrick’s hand shot out to stop him. “I was there right before I came to the pub. It didn’t seem like she wanted to be disturbed.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mick said as he started ambling down the alley. “She picked up some stuff from the printer that’s a bit hot and probably didn’t want your pious eyes seeing it.”

Hot? That could mean any number of things, but as long as Ruby wasn’t wrapped in the arms of an illicit lover, he wouldn’t mind concluding this business today. Mrs. Kellerman’s offer carried a stink on it, and he wanted to put it behind him.

Ruby was no more welcoming to him this time, even when Mick swaggered into the single room they shared and drew her into a hearty kiss and a tacky grope. She twisted out of her husband’s embrace and tugged her blouse back into place.

“I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” she said to Mick. “I barely had a chance to throw a cloth over the mess I picked up from down the street.”