“I’ll get a newspaper,” Donovan said, “hang on a second.”
He bought two papers from the boy at the corner, and came back to the car.
“It’s in the stop press,” he said, and read the announcement. He felt no satisfaction to see his name in print. He knew if he didn’t crack this one fast the press would turn on him.
During the afternoon he had returned to Fay Carson’s apartment to meet the press. Anticipating the worst kind of trouble from the reporters, he had been relieved to find Captain Motley already there.
He was bewildered and astonished to find no sign of the cal-girls. The whole house had miraculously become respectable and, ferret as they could, the reporters found nothing to work on. They went from apartment to apartment. The elderly women who opened the door to them knew nothing and had heard nothing.
The reporters were highly suspicious because they had been called in so late, but Motley’s smooth talk got over the awkward situation. Listening to
him soft soap the press made Donovan thankful it wasn’t he who had to handle them.
“Going to be a hell of a spread across the front page tomorrow morning,” he said, getting into the car beside Duncan.
“Yeah,” Duncan said, and sent the car shooting away from the kerb.
It didn’t take them long to find the street.