‘Aw, forget it. If there’s a thing I hate more than a stye in the eye, it’s a mysterious cop.’
The front door to Baird’s apartment house opened, and Baird came quickly down the steps.
‘Jeepers!’ Burns mut ered. ‘The punk’s going for a walk.’
‘Looks like he’s going on the lam,’ the cop said.
Baird was carrying a grip. He glanced at the cop and the parked car and went quickly down the street, away from them.
Burns scrambled out of the car.
‘Listen, brother, this is important. One of my buddies is due along any moment to relieve me. Will you tell him Baird’s left with a grip, and I’m going after him?’
‘I don’t mind,’ the cop said. ‘Not if you make it worth my while.’
‘And they say the police aren’t corrupt in this town,’ Burns said bitterly. He produced a five-dollar bill. ‘Stick around until he turns up. You can’t miss him. He walks pigeon-toed and wears a hand-painted tie.’
‘I’ll tell him,’ the cop said, pocketing the bil . ‘Nice to have known you.’