“All right, wise guy,” he said, “go ahead and shoot off your mouth. You’ll sing a different tune before we’re done with you.”
I motioned toward Bernard Carter.
“Why don’t you try his fingers?” I asked. “See if they match.”
“Nuts. The man we’re looking for is a man of your build, your complexion— In short, we’re looking for you!”
“All right,” I said, “if you don’t try his finger-prints, you have yourselves to thank for passing up a chance of advancement.”
At that, I don’t think they’d have done it if it hadn’t been for the look on Carter’s face.
The officer moved over toward him. “Just a routine checkup,” he said.
Carter shot his hands behind his back. “What the hell do you fellows think this is? Who do you think you’re pushing around? I’ll have you busted wide open.”
I lit a cigarette.
The officers looked at each other and then converged on Carter.