A moment later Pete was surrounded by grim-faced policemen.
CHAPTER SIX
I
THE fat desk sergeant shifted his bulk on his creaking chair and nodded his bullet-shaped head.
“The Lieutenant’s questioning him now,” he said. “He’s expecting you, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he’s expecting me,” Conrad said. “What’s he doing –pushing Weiner around?”
A dreamy expression came over the sergeant’s face.
“Well, he ain’t exactly combing his hair,” he returned. “Three of our best boys got killed through him.”
Conrad swung around, crossed the charge room in three strides and went quickly along the passage, down a short flight of stone steps, then to a door at the end of another passage. He turned the handle and pushed the door open.
Pete sat in a hard, bright circle of light. The small room was full of tobacco smoke and the smell of sweat and dust. It was also full of bull-necked, red-faced detectives. Bardin was standing in front of Pete, and as Conrad entered the room, Bardin drew back his arm and hit Pete across his face with the flat of his hand. The sound of the blow was like the bursting of a paper bag, and Pete’s head jerked back and then forward.