Hackett looked at him there, leaning back in his swiveled-around chair, looking out the window. Hackett said, "There's another one says the most accomplished and wary Casanova meets his downfall sooner or later and gets led to the slaughter. I'm just waiting for the day it happens to you-I'll be there to cheer on true love."
Mendoza swung around and laughed up at him. "A lot of people are waiting for that day, boy. You'll all wait a long, long time. Maybe forever."
" Cuanto apuestas, how much do you bet?" asked Hackett.
Mendoza looked interested at once. "At what odds, friend? If they're long enough- But what'd we make the terminus ad quem? Retiring age, maybe?"
"I was just talking," said Hackett hastily, "no bets. Not with you. Retiring age? My God, you'd get up out of your coffin to chase a pretty woman-"
"Probably," said Mendoza, "probably. But not so headlong that I'd run into the trap."
Hackett laughed a little shortly and went out. Mendoza looked after him and shook his head: a pity about Hackett, if he was really serious over this girl. However, these things happened. " Eso alla el ,” said Mendoza to himself, "his own business." But very probably he'd be of little use for a while until he recovered from temporary lunacy
…
At which point Sergeant Lake came in with a sheaf of new reports, and Mendoza sat up, demanded coffee, lit a cigarette, and began to go through them with interest. Always another job coming up, in this business.
This accidental poisoning, for instance, had it really been accidental? Sergeant Galeano thought not. Better hear what he had to say, and begin to think about it…