The cop didn’t move. “Yeah?” he said. “If that old guy’s the Chief of anythin’, then I’m the mother of kittens.”
Jay looked at Henry. “He’s got you there, Chief,” he said with a grin.
Henry said with cold dignity, “What’s going on in here?”
Two plain−clothes men from the Homicide Bureau came down the stairs and made to pass them. Henry knew one of them. “Hey, Bradley, tell this flat−foot who I am. I want to go up!”
Bradley looked at him keenly. “For Pete’s sake, it’s Henry! What are you doin’ here?”
Henry smiled easily. “I was passin’, saw the ambulance, and thought I’d see my man work first hand.”
Bradley shook his head. “It ain’t much,” he said regretfully; “just another shootin’. Still, you can go on up.”
Jay said, “Who is it?”
“Guy named Fletcher. I guess someone owed him a grudge.”
Jay shook his head. “I guess we won’t bother,” he said grimly. “Come on, Chief, that’s small−town stuff.”