He lifted the latch and walked softly up the path to the front door. Setting Leo down on the step, he reached forward and pressed the bell with a dirty thumb.
III
Raphael Sweeting wasn’t the only man in Flint City who had a nose for a fast buck. Paradise Louie, or to give him his correct name, Louis Manchini, also had talents in that direction.
He had read the Stop Press announcement in the Herald, and had
instantly realized that Johnny had killed Fay.
He remembered that Johnny had come to him last night to ask for Fay’s address. If Fay hadn’t recently repulsed Louie’s attentions, and no woman turned Louie down without regretting it, he wouldn’t have told Johnny where he could find her, but it seemed to him poetic justice to give this wild-eyed nut the information he wanted.
Louie had hoped Johnny would beat Fay up as he had beaten her up before going to the home. He certainly hadn’t imagined Johnny would kill her, and the news came as a shock to him.
He dropped the newspaper on his dusty desk, pushed back his chair and groped for a cigarette.
Louie was thirty-seven, thin, swarthy, with greasy black hair, a black pencil-line moustache and jowls that turned blue towards evening.
He realized that if he informed the cops that Johnny had been enquiring for Fay, even the cops dumb as they were, would jump to the conclusion that Johnny had killed her. The information he had was therefore valuable, and it was up to him to find the highest bidder.