Demetrios nodded glumly, went over and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Doyle grunted, “G’night,” and he and Green and the lieutenant filed out.
Demetrios sat silent for two or three minutes and then got up and went to the door, opened it and looked up and down the hall. Then he closed the door and crossed to the private telephone that stood on the stand beside the bed, beside the regular house phone. He sat down on the bed again and dialed a Schuyler number, said:
“Hello, honey. Listen. The big news just came through. They found ‘im on the New York Central tracks, uptown. Uh-huh. I guess he left the pinwheel at Tony’s an’ picked up Gino on the Boston train. Only Gino saw him first... A couple coppers just stopped by an’ told me. They thought I might like to know.”
He laughed quietly. “Sure, I gave ’em enough so they know he blasted Tony’s. They can figure the rest of it out for themselves. Now, listen. They’re probably waiting for me outside, but I’m going to duck out through the basement.” He glanced at the alarm clock on the dresser. “It’s a quarter of three. I’ll be over there in half an hour at the outside unless they tail me an’ then I’ll have to lose ’em. You throw some things in a bag an’ be ready to leave. We’ll take a little trip. Some place where it’s cool... Okay, baby — ’Bye.”
He hung up, dressed swiftly and took a traveling-bag out of a closet, began stuffing clothes into it.
Green’s car was parked on the other side of Broadway, on Seventy-sixth. He went into an all-night drugstore on the corner and called the Star-Telegram, asked for Kessler.
Kessler grunted, “Hello,” wearily, snapped out of it when he recognized Green’s voice.
“Hey, Nick! I just heard somebody took a shot at you,” he yelped. “You all right?”
“I’m okay. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you.”