‘Look, will you hold back until tomorrow afternoon? Suppose you got evidence that Barrett’s a reefer-smuggler. Think you could make him talk?’
Mifflin smiled grimly.
‘We could try.’
‘Know where I can get some reefers: about a couple of hundred of them?’
‘The Narcotic Squad would have some. Why?’
‘Let’s have them. Barratt’s not the only one who can plant evidence. You’ll get a tip some time tomorrow where you’ll find two hundred reefers in his room. You take him in, and bounce him around. He doesn’t look as if he’d stand a great deal of toughing up. I think he’ll squeal.’
Mifflin’s eyes widened.
‘I can’t do that! If Brandon found out…’
‘Who’s going to tell him?’
He stared at me, scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully, shook his head.