Howard walked with O’Brien to the front door.
“Is Donovan such a good man to put on this case?” O’Brien asked as he opened the door.
“Adams is working on it too.”
“Ah yes… Adams. He’s a smart cop. So long, Commissioner, thanks for calling, and let me have those reports.”
O’Brien stood in the doorway and watched Howard drive away, then he slowly closed the door and remained motionless, his face thoughtful.
Gilda, concealed behind the half-open door of O’Brien’s study, felt a little chill of apprehension run through her at the hard, ugly set of O’Brien’s mouth.
II
Detective Dave Duncan pasted a cigarette on his lower lip, scratched a match alight and lowered the cigarette end into his cupped hands.
He looked across the table at Sergeant Donovan who was finishing a ham sandwich, his heavy jaws moving slowly as he chewed, his face dark with thought.
Duncan had been a detective third for a long time. He had almost given up hope of promotion, but now he had been assigned to work with Donovan, he began to hope again. Not that Donovan rated high with him: but a murder case did give a guy a chance if he used his head.