‘Hi, George,’ he said, joining Olin. ‘Too busy to do me a favour?’
Olin frowned at him.
‘I’m pretty busy,’ he said reluctantly, ‘but I guess I can spare you a minute. Come on in. Have you heard Jean Bruce has been knocked off?’
Dallas’s eyes popped.
‘You mean she’s been murdered?’
‘That’s what I mean.’ Olin walked quickly along the passage to his small office, kicked open the door, entered and sat down behind a small battered desk. ‘A stick-up job with a couple of my boys sunning themselves within yards of it. The guy got away with an emerald and diamond bracelet worth five grand. He hit the girl on the side of her jaw — broke her goddamn neck.’
‘Jeepers!’ Dal as whistled. ‘Any idea who?’
Olin nodded.
‘Yeah, but never mind that. What do you want?’
‘Checking up on a black LaSalle, licence number AO 67. I want to know who owns it.’