Have ’em out there fast.’
Olin went quickly down the steps to where his car was parked. He drove away fast, his siren blasting.
Three minutes later another police car, followed by an Emergency Squad truck, went tearing down the street after Olin.
Olin found the shabby 25th Street blocked either end by a big crowd of curious sightseers. There were three prowl-cars drawn up by the sidewalk. The patrol men were keeping the crowd well away from the big blue Packard that stood under a lamp standard, its driving door open.
Olin pushed his way through the crowd and walked down the street to the Packard.
O’Brien, a big, beefy man with greying hair and keen blue eyes, saluted.
‘What have you got there, Tim?’ Olin asked, pausing beside the Packard.
‘I’m making a guess, Lieutenant,’ O’Brien said, ‘but it’s my bet it’s Hater.’
‘Hater?’
Olin moved forward and peered into the car.