“Blooey, eh?” Killer Durgan laughed. “That guy Waldron had a lot to learn! Thought he was a big shot!
“The way he was running that racket, he must have thought Santa Claus was in with him! Go on!”
“That’s all there is to it!”
“That’s all, eh? Where did you come in? I thought you said something about handling jobs for Waldron!”
Ernie Shires licked his lips thoughtfully. He suspected that Killer Durgan knew more than he had pretended.
Durgan was a big racketeer. It was probable that his ignorance was feigned. Shires wondered if Durgan had heard of the fiasco in which he had figured. He decided to sound him out.
“I pulled a lot of jobs for Waldron,” he said. “I was doing one last night — about the time when Waldron was bumped off.”
“Yeah?” Durgan seemed inquisitive. “Tell me about it!”
“There was six of us,” explained Shires. “Held up a van belonging to a storage guy named Brooks. We was there to slug the driver and smash up the stuff.”
“Did you do it?” There was a sharpness in Durgan’s question.