Hosskiss cut in, “Never mind about that. I think I’ve found your car. Would it be Harry Thayler’s bus, do you think?”
Fenner screwed up his eyes. “Yeah,” he said, “it could be.”
“There are others in the list, of course, but Thayler seems to be the best bet.”
“Never mind about the others. That’ll do to go on with. Listen, Hoss—”
How long he’d been standing there Fenner didn’t know. The light on his glasses hid his eyes, but Fenner could see some sweat beads on his face.
Fenner said, “Why didn’t you pick the punk up if he means all that to you?”
Nightingale showed his white sharp teeth. “He means nothing to me,” he said, his voice trailing off to a squeak. “All the same, it was a hell of a—”
“Skip it,” Fenner broke in. “It’s time someone slapped that hophead down. He thinks he’s the kingpin in this joint.”
“He is.”
“How far in are you with him?”