“They’re downtown. I’ll call Beery to turn them over to you — at the Hayward.”
Woodward nodded. He went over to the window and adjusted his glasses, peered closely at the paper. He turned to say something and then there was a sharp sound and glass tinkled on the floor. Woodward stood with his mouth open a little while, then his legs buckled under him slowly and he fell down and stretched one arm out and took hold the bottom of one of the drapes. He rolled his head once, back and forth, and his glasses came off and stuck out at an angle from the side of his head. His eyes were open, staring.
Chapter Seven
Kells said: “Well...”
Borg was half standing. He moved his arm and very deliberately put the cards down on the table, then straightened, moved toward Woodward’s body.
Kells said: “Don’t go near the window.”
Granquist came into the bedroom door and stood with one hand up to her face, staring at Woodward.
Borg said: “It must have been from that joint.” He pointed through the window to the tall apartment house halfway down the block.
Kells said gently: “Bring me my clothes.” Granquist didn’t move, stood staring at Woodward blankly. Kells stood up. He said: “Bring me my clothes.” Borg went swiftly to the bedroom door, past Granquist into the bedroom, coming back almost immediately with a tangled mass of clothes under his arm. He held a short blunt revolver in one hand down straight at his side.
Granquist went to a chair against one wall and picked up her coat and put it on. She went to the table and stood with both hands on the table, leaning forward a little.