That got me nothing. No change in her expression, or lack of expression. No word. I thought I would like to spank her. I said:
“I’ve given you your chance to talk. I’m willing to listen to your side of the story. But suit yourself.”
She suited herself by keeping quiet. I gave it up. I was afraid of her, afraid she would do something even crazier than her silence if I pressed her further. I went out of the flat not sure that she had understood a single word I had said.
At the corner I told Dick Foley:
“There’s a girl in there, Helen Albury, eighteen, five six, skinny, not more than a hundred, if that, eyes close together, brown, yellow skin, brown short hair, straight, got on a gray suit now. Tail her. If she cuts up on you throw her in the can. Be careful—she’s crazy as a bedbug.”
I set out for Peak Murry’s dump, to locate Reno and see what he wanted. Half a block from my destination I stepped into an office building doorway to look the situation over.
A police patrol wagon stood in front of Murry’s. Men were being led, dragged, carried, from pool room to wagon. The leaders, draggers, and carriers did not look like regular coppers. They were, I supposed, Pete the Finn’s crew, now special officers. Pete, with McGraw’s help, apparently was making good his threat to give Whisper and Reno all the war they wanted.
While I watched, an ambulance arrived, was loaded, and drove away. I was too far away to recognize anybody or any bodies. When the height of the excitement seemed past I circled a couple of blocks and returned to my hotel.
Mickey Linehan was there with information about Mr. Charles Proctor Dawn.