nothingââ
âYouâre damned right there isnât,â Mears said. He was, evidently, a man who did not wait for the obvious to be completed. âJohnny Blanchard said to drop around for a drink if I was going to be in town this afternoon and when I get thereââ
âDoug,â the girl said. âThey do know about yesterday. Not only what was in the papers. Somehowâthese peopleââ She indicated the Norths. âThey happened to be having a drink whenââ
âSo what?â Mears said. He looked now at Bill Weigand. âYou donât for Godâs sake want to try to make anything out of that?â He looked at Hilda Latham. âAnd you,â he said. âAre a sweetheart. Really and truly a sweetheart.â His tone was bitter.
âMiss Latham,â Bill Weigand said, without emphasis, âalso has told us there is nothing to be made out of that. If there isnât, we wonât make anything. When you went around for a drink, you didnât know Mr. Blanchard was dead?â
âThat,â Mears said, âis a hell of a damned fool question. If I knew he was dead, how the hellâd I think he could give me a drink?â
âBill,â Pam North said, âheâs really got something there, hasnât he? What would you like to drink, Mr. Mears? Or are you in training or something?â
Mears stared at her for a moment.
âBecause,â Pam said, âall the rest of us are.â She looked around at the glasses. âWere,â she corrected. âIf you donât drink weâve probably got someââ
âTwo hours ago,â Mears said, âNellie and I lost the silliest damn match you everâSo.â He looked around again. âThis is the damnedest setup,â he said. âScotch, if itâs handy.â
And he looked around for a chair. It appeared that Mr. Doug Mears had decided to play along. When Jerry had made his rounds, Mears did, to a degree, play along. Now and then, his tone sharpened, his ever-ready temper showed through. But as an exasperated young man, and one who had had a disappointing tournament, he seemed to be doing what he could to play along.
He did not deny that he had been sore as hell at John Blanchard. But he pointed out that that was yesterday. So, heâd made a fool of himself. It wasnât the first time. âI needed that match,â he said. âMight have made a hell of a lot of difference. Water under the bridge, now.â
Heâd calmed down after the scene in the garden bar. Toward evening he had run into John Blanchard at the Forest Hills Inn and apologized. They could prove that, if they wanted to. Plenty of people had heard him.
What had he meant, Blanchard had got âwhat he wantedâ?
How did he know? He was sore. Heâd said the first thing that came into his head. He supposedâgot him beaten. It was a damn silly thing to say.
About what Blanchard had wanted being seated at the table?
âDonât remember anything like that,â Mears said. And if he looked at Hilda Latham quickly, was not looked at, looked away again, what did that mean? The question was Pam Northâs, to herself. He had to look at somebody. Hilda Latham was a rewarding somebody to look at.
It had been during his meeting at the inn, during his apology, that John Blanchard had invited him to drop by the next afternoonâthis afternoonâfor a drink? If he happened to be in town?
âYes,â Mears said. âSure. I said I still didnât get the foot-fault business, and what was I doing wrong? He said, drop by and heâd try to explain. He was with some other people then and I was meeting a couple of guys myself. Soââ
So, having been eliminated from the mixed doubles early in the afternoon, having watched the finals of the menâs singlesâthe Australian had won, in straight sets, to nobodyâs