He walked over to the window and looked down at the swarming traffic on Spring Street. “Doc Haardt was in their way — figure it out for yourself.”
Fenner said: “You act like you know what you’re talking about.”
“I do.”
Fenner went on musingly: “One of the advantages of a reform administration is that you can blame it for everything. Maybe opening up the town for a few weeks isn’t such a bad idea.”
“But it’s nice to know about it when you’re supposed to be the boss...” Kells smiled. “And it won’t be so hot when it gets so wide open that a few of Reilly and Rose’s imports from the East come up here and shove a machine gun down your throat.”
Fenner said: “No.” Me — I’m going to scram,” Kells went on. “I came out here to play, and by God if I can’t play here I’ll go back to Broadway. My fighting days are over.”
Fenner stared quizzically at Kells’ bruised, battered face, smiled. “You’d better stick around,” he said, “I like you.”
“That’s fine.” Kells went to a table and poured himself a glass of water from a big decanter. “No — I’m going down to the station and see if they want to ask me any questions, and then I’m going home and pack. I’ve got reservations on the Chief: six o’clock.”
Fenner stood up. “That’s too bad,” he said. “I have a hunch that you and I would be a big help to one another.”
He held out his hand. Kells shook it, turned and went to the door. Then he turned again, slowly. “One other thing,” he said. “There’s a gal out here — name’s Granquist — came out with a couple of Rose’s boys; claims to have a million dollars’ worth of lowdown on the administration. I can’t use it. Maybe you can get together.”