‘What do you know?’ Morris gaped into the car. ‘He’s got his hands tied.’
‘You’l be tel ing me he’s dead next,’ Olin snapped. ‘Isn’t that damned ambulance coming?’
‘Yes, sir. Should be here any second now.’
Olin looked up and down the shabby street.
‘Isn’t this the street we cornered Baird in last time?’
Morris nodded.
‘Yeah, I guess it is.’
‘Maybe he’s still around.’ Olin looked up expectantly at the roofs of the buildings. ‘Get four men up there. The rest of them had better go from house to house and find out if anyone’s seen Baird.’
While Morris went off to get his men posted, the two interns, who had got off the newly arrived ambulance, carried Hater from the car to the sidewalk. They laid him on a stretcher, and one of them carefully removed the adhesive bandage from his mouth.
‘What did he die of?’ Olin asked, pul ing fiercely on his cigar.