The Peace Conference
All the other delegates to the peace conference were on hand when Noonan and I arrived at Willssonâs home at the appointed time, nine oâclock that night. Everybody nodded to us, but the greetings didnât go any further than that.
Pete the Finn was the only one I hadnât met before. The bootlegger was a big-boned man of fifty with a completely bald head. His forehead was small, his jaws enormousâ âwide, heavy, bulging with muscle.
We sat around Willssonâs library table.
Old Elihu sat at the head. The short-clipped hair on his round pink skull was like silver in the light. His round blue eyes were hard, domineering, under their bushy white brows. His mouth and chin were horizontal lines.
On his right Pete the Finn sat watching everybody with tiny black eyes that never moved. Reno Starkey sat next to the bootlegger. Renoâs sallow horse face was as stolidly dull as his eyes.