Larson spat again into the fireplace, looked at the stairs. “Nothin”. Go back to bed.”
He turned back toward Kells and his big loose mouth split to a wide grin. “You’re way behind the times,” he said. “Crotti hooked up with my people this morning. They were tickled to death to get an organization like his behind them and they were plumb disappointed when you bumped him off. That’s one of the reasons there’s a tag out for you...”
Kells held his handkerchief to his bleeding cheek. He said: “What are the other reasons?”
“Jack Rose moved into Crotti’s place.”
Kells laughed soundlessly. “You’re kidding.”
“No.” Larson spun the revolver once around his big forefinger. “Rose made a deal with Crotti a couple of days ago. When Crotti was shot this evening, Rose didn’t lose any time putting the pressure on my people and they didn’t lose any time putting it on me. You’re it.”
“But Rose is wanted for the O’Donnell—”
“Not any more.” Larson chuckled. “I told you you wasn’t keeping in touch with things. For one thing, Lee Fenner shot himself about eight o’clock tonight. He was the only one there was to testify against Rose on the O’Donnell angle — so that’s out. And Rose says you killed O’Donnell, says he’ll swear to it — an’ he’s got another witness.”
Kells said wearily: “Is that all — I’m only wanted on two counts of murder?”
“That’s all for tonight. Matheson called me up a couple hours ago an’ said the Perry woman had phoned in, drunk, an’ said she wanted to repudiate her confession that Perry killed Doc Haardt.” Larson grinned broadly, stood up. “Maybe we can tie you up to that in the morning.”