“Well, it sounds like him. I’ve seen him in that hat.”
I went over the description again, in detail and carefully.
“Yeah,” Mike said. “That sounds like him all right. He’s never without a cheroot and his nose and right ear are flattened. Must be the guy.”
I felt vaguely excited.
“Well, thanks, Mike.”
I went back to the other two who had been watching me from across the room.
“Mike’s identified Big Boy,” I told them. “He’s a guy named Benny Dwan, and guess what: he works for Salzer.”
“Isn’t it marvellous how you find things out?” Kerman said, grinning. “So what are you going to do?”
“Tip Mifflin,” I said. “Wait a second, will you? I’ll call him now.”
They told me at Police Headquarters that Mifflin had gone home. I turned up his home telephone number in the book and put the call through. After a delay, Mifflin’s voice came over the line. He sounded sleepy and exasperated.