“No. Didn’t touch him.”
“So? Take Mickey Linehan with you. Don’t let Carey get out of your sight. I’ll get somebody up to relieve you and Mickey late tonight, if I can, but he’s got to be shadowed twenty-four hours a day until—” I didn’t know what came after that so I stopped talking.
I took Dick’s story into the Old Man’s office and told it to him, winding up:
“Arlie shot first, according to Foley, so Carey gets a self-defense on it, but we’re getting action at last and I don’t want to do anything to slow it up. So I’d like to keep what we know about this shooting quiet for a couple of days. It won’t increase our friendship any with the county sheriff if he finds out what we’re doing, but I think it’s worth it.”
“If you wish,” the Old Man agreed, reaching for his ringing phone.
He spoke into the instrument and passed it on to me. Detective-sergeant Hunt was talking:
“Flora Brace and Grace Cardigan crushed out just before daylight. The chances are they—”
I wasn’t in a humor for details.
“A clean sneak?” I asked.
“Not a lead on ’em so far, but—”
“I’ll get the details when I see you. Thanks,” and I hung up.
“Angel Grace and Big Flora have escaped from the city prison,” I passed the news on to the Old Man.
He smiled courteously, as if at something that didn’t especially concern him.