Olin knew Dallas didn’t make mistakes. He had worked with him a lot in the past, and to Dal as’s delight he didn’t waste time asking questions.
‘If you’re pul ing me out on a false alarm I’l slap a charge on you,’ Olin said. ‘Is this the McCoy?’
‘This isn’t a false alarm, George,’ Dallas said, and the grimness in his voice convinced Olin. ‘Get some boys and come down to West and Union fast.’
‘Stick where you are,’ Olin said. ‘I’l be right with you.’
Dallas hung up and went to the bar. He ordered a double Scotch.
‘Did you find him?’ the red-head asked, hitching up her skirt so he could see the top of her stocking.
The bartender leaned over the bar.
‘Hey, you! Take it outside and peddle it in the rain,’ he said, ‘or you’l get bounced out on your fanny.’
Dallas said, ‘Pipe down. She’s a friend of mine. Give her a Scotch.’
The red-head sneered at the bartender and gave a little wiggle inside her clothes for Dallas’s benefit.