He stood up and grinned. “Sure, sure,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong. I thought maybe you’d like to put your curly little head on my shoulder an’ tell me all your troubles.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” she snapped. “I’ve got no troubles.”
Fenner grinned again and went into the street. So that’s the way it is, he thought. Curly had gone soft on Carlos and was getting nowhere. It was tough to fall for a little rat like Carlos.
He walked for some time through the narrow streets, retracing his steps, going into a bar for a short drink, and all the time checking to find out if anyone was tailing him. When he was satisfied no one was, he headed downtown again.
When he reached the Federal Building, he loitered outside, keeping a close watch on the street; then he ducked into the building and took the elevator to the Federal Field Office.
The Federal Agent was named Hosskiss. He stood up behind his desk and offered a moist hand.
Fenner shook hands and sat down heavily in the chair opposite Hosskiss. He took some papers out of his inside pocket and handed them over. “The name’s Fenner. Here’s my license that permits me to operate as a private investigator. I’m on business for a client down here, and I want you to know some facts.”
Hosskiss examined the papers, frowned, and then said, “Fenner? You the guy who broke the Blandish kidnapping case?”
Fenner nodded.
“"Well, that’s fine,” Hosskiss grinned. “I used to know Brendan. He told me all about it. Why, sure, if I can help you I’ll be glad.”