my paw with the old equalizer. Smith got out his key.
I had the room pretty well covered and he got the key in the lock without making a sound.
He twisted the key and banged the door open hard. I was all set to start throwing lead.
Then the air went out of me with a fizz. I put the gun back in my pocket and me and Smith looked at each other. Then we looked at the guy standing in the middle of the office.
He was a big bruiser, taller than me and just as broad. He had on a shiny old suit and a hat that looked like he found it at a dogfight. He could be a nasty egg sometimes. He was a plainclothes dick. They called him Bedrock Hannrihan, mainly, I guess, because he always dug to bedrock on a case and he didn't give a damn how he did the digging.
"Hello, Smith," he said, "this is more luck than I bargained for."
Me and Smith looked around the office. Hannrihan had been having fun. He had pulled the desk to one side, the big radio the boss loves away from the wall. He had
A detective and his ex-pugilist assistant investigate the suicide of a failed businessman. Not great but worth a read if you have a few idle minutes.