She didn't know what the police could do to her, but Al seemed to know what he was talking about and she didn't want to do anything to jeopardize Frankie. She knew that she shouldn't go to Harris, but it seemed like the only way out. She had to risk a phone call. She walked to the nearest phone booth to call Frankie and tell him that she wouldn't be home until later, but there was no answer. She deposited another dime and dialed Harris' number and let it ring several times. She was about to hang up when he answered the phone.

"Oh hello, darling," he said. "To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?"

"Conrad," she said, her voice trembling, "I've got to talk to you. Something else has come up. Can I come over?"

"Certainly, Cindy," he said, his voice low and sympathetic. "In fact I'm having a few people over this evening and it will be a good chance to show you off. Come right over." And he hung up.

Her legs were trembling as she walked the last few blocks to his apartment. She wasn't sure that she had done the right thing, but she had made the call, she was, going over there, so it was too late now.

When she arrived at his apartment there were several other men already there. She assumed that they were business associates of Conrad's, so she smiled congenially when he introduced her around and then steered her toward the bar.

"What'll it be, my love," he said.

"Better stick to martinis, I've already had several already."

"Hmmmmm, it must have been a rough day. Why don't you bring your drink into the study and tell me what this is all about?"

He led her into the other room, patting her affectionately on the behind as she stepped through the doorway.

She seated herself in an overstuffed leather chair and kicked off her shoes, raising her knees just high enough to afford him a clear view of her long, slim legs and the bulge of soft flesh above her stockings.