“It isn’t entirely over the gambling concession?”
“Hell, no. That’s all it was at first. All I wanted was to make a living. Now I’ve got two notch-joints at the other end of town. I’ve got a swell protection in with the law and I’m building up a liquor business that would knock your eye out.”
I asked: “Is Luke in it by himself?”
McCary shook his head slowly. “He don’t show anywhere. There’s a fellah named Stokes runs the works for him — a young fellah. They been partners nearly eight years. It’s all in Stokes’ name...”
“What does Stokes look like?”
“Tall — about your build. Shiny black hair, and a couple of big gold teeth” — McCary tapped his upper front teeth with a fat finger — “here.”
I said: “How much is he worth to you?”
McCary stood up. He leaned across the desk and grinned down at me and said: “Not a nickel.” His eyes were wide and clear like a baby’s. He said slowly: “The old man is worth twenty-five hundred smackers to you.”
I didn’t say anything and McCary sat down and opened another drawer and took out a bottle of whiskey. He poured a couple of drinks.
“I think the best angle for you,” he said, “is to go to Stokes and give him the same proposition you gave me. Nobody saw you come in here. It’s the only way you can get near the old man.”