Beery looked down at it a moment, and then he picked it up and stuck it in his pocket, said: “Thanks, Gerry.”
Granquist gave Kells one of the tall glasses. “Stirrup cup.”
They all drank.
The porter came back into the room and loaded himself down with hand luggage, went out.
Kells said: “We’re all in a swell spot. The baby here” — he nodded toward Granquist — “is still wanted for Bellmann’s murder — maybe. Shep and I have got to go down and okay our signatures on Fenner’s confession — and maybe they’ll want to talk to me about Woodward, or what happened at MacAlmon’s, and if there’s been any squawk from MacAlmon’s they’ll be looking for Fat.” He grinned at Borg.
Beery took a long envelope out of his inside coat pocket, turned it over several times on his lap. “If this doesn’t square any beef they can figure,” he said, “I’m a watchmaker.”
The porter came back into the room for the last of the hand luggage. They all finished their drinks and went out to the elevator, down to the cab stand.
They took two cabs. Kells and Beery got into the first one; Granquist and Borg got into another, and all the hand luggage was put in with them. Kells told the driver of the second cab to keep about a half-block behind them when they stopped downtown.
Then he went back to the other cab and got in with Beery and said: “Police Station.”
Beery signed the affidavit and pushed it across the desk to Kells.