Motley waved an indifferent hand towards Adams.
“He’s taking care of it. You know, Paul, you’re making a hell of a fuss about the killing of this woman. Who cares, anyway?”
“You’ll care when you see the press tomorrow morning,” Howard said grimly. “Got any leads yet?” he went on to Adams.
“We have a description of a guy who could have done it,” Adams said. “Donovan’s working on it, now.”
“Donovan? You should be working on it,” Howard said violently. “Donovan… !” He stopped short, scowled down at the desk and then shrugged.
Motley watched him and concealed a grin.
Donovan was Motley’s special pet. Howard and Motley had clashed over him before, and Adams knew it. He knew also that Gloria had been used to save Donovan from returning to a beat, and Howard wasn’t likely to start trouble for Donovan again, unless he was forced to.
“Donovan’s a good guy,” Motley said, patting his heavy paunch. Although he was only thirty-eight, lack of exercise, heavy drinking and gross feeding had thickened his figure, making him look a lot older than he was. “We don’t often get a murder case, and this could be Donovan’s chance. I want him to re-establish himself. The press has been picking on him for months. It’s time he had a chance to show what he can do.”
“This isn’t a one-man police force,” Howard said, controlling his temper with difficulty. “I want every man working on it. We’ve got to nab this killer, Joe.”
“Sure, sure,” Motley said indifferently. He got slowly to his feet. “Well, I’ve got to run along. I’m going to the club tonight and I’ve got to get a haircut. Gloria said she’d be at the dance. You coming?”