“Look at it this way,” Fenner said, stretching in the chair; “my way. I’ve come from Crotti. I want a chance like the rest of you for some easy dough an’ not much excitement. Crotti said either Carlos or Noolen. Carlos’s mob is too busy big-shotting to worry about me. I can’t even get in to see Carlos. You—I walk in an’ find you sittin’ on your can, with a flat-chested, bird outside as your muscle guard. Why did Crotti tip you? Maybe you’ve been someone an’ Crotti’s getting behind in the news. Maybe you are someone, an’ this is a front. Take it all round, I think you an’ me might get places.”
Noolen gave a little shrug. He shook his head. “Not just now,” he said. “I don’t know Crotti. I’ve never heard of him, an’ I don’t believe you’ve come from him. I think you’re a punk gunman bluffing himself a job. I don’t want you an’ I hope I’ll never want you.”
Fenner got up and yawned. “That’s swell,” he said. “I can now grab myself a little rest. When you’ve looked into things, you’ll find me at the Haworth Hotel. If you know Nightingale, have a word with him—he thinks I’m quite a boy.”
He nodded to Noolen and walked out of the office. He went down the stairs, called a cab and drove to his hotel. He went into the restaurant and ordered a turtle steak. While he was eating, Nightingale came in and sat down opposite him. .
Fenner said, with his mouth full, “Ain’t you got any boxes to make, or is business bad?”
Nightingale looked worried. “That was a hell of a thing to do—walking out like that.”
“Yeah? I always walk out when I get a Bronx cheer. Why not?”
“Listen, Reiger ain’t soft. That ain’t the way to handle Reiger.”
“No? You tell me.”
Nightingale ordered some brown bread, cheese and a glass of milk. He kept his eyes on the white tablecloth until the waitress brought the order, and when she had gone away he said, “This makes it difficult for me.”