The clerk gave me a stony stare and went away like a centenarian climbing a steep flight of stairs.
Bradley lit his pipe and stared down at his ink-stained fingers. He breathed gently.
“Still sticking your nose into the Crosbys’ affairs?” he asked, without looking at me.
“Still doing it,” I said shortly.
He shook his head.
“You young and ambitious guys never learn, do you? I heard MacGraw and Hartsell called on you the other night.”
“They did. Maureen Crosby showed up and rescued me. How do you like that?”
He gave a little grin.
“I’d’ve liked to have been there. Was she the one who hit MacGraw?”
“Yeah.”