Shayne set the bottle down with a thud. A fierce gleam came into his eyes. “All right, we’ll play it that way. If you’re sure, Tim. Sure that Marlow wasn’t faking his identification. And that’s just as good. Hell, it’s better.” The fierce gleam became a pin point of concentration. Shayne was talking to himself, gently massaging his lean chin.
He jumped up. “We’ve got to do it tonight. Right now. The whole story has to break before the polls open tomorrow. We’ve got a lot of things to do, Tim. That is, you’ll have to do most of them.”
Rourke backed away. He put out a hand as if to protect himself from the dynamic figure towering above him. “Not me. Wait. I’m in this thing up to my goozle already. Painter kept me over there a couple of hours trying to make me admit I knew more than I was telling. I lied my soul to hell and beyond. Don’t you know when you’re licked, for Christ’s sake, Mike?”
“No. If you turn me down I’ll have to take a crack at it myself.” His voice was flat and toneless. He lowered his head and thrust out his chin.
Rourke sighed long and audibly. He circled Shayne to pick up the whisky bottle. Pensively, he drained it. Turning slowly to the detective, he said, “All right, Mike. What do we do?”
“First thing is a trip to my apartment. There’s something there on the center table I need.”
“I’ll never make it. You know the place will be full of cops. There’s even one on duty out in front here.”
“Sure it’ll be full of cops,” Shayne agreed cheerfully. “You know most of them. Kid them along. Tell them you’re trying to find me for them, that you hate my guts and want to help hang me. And while you’re there, pick up a water tumbler standing on the center table. Drop a handkerchief over it before you pick it up. It’s got the fingerprints of the dead girl on it.”
“What do you want that for? She’s right over there in the mortuary.”
“Hell of a chance I’d have to get them off her. I need that glass, Tim. Talk about a fast one!” Shayne’s voice was gloating. “I’m going to pull the great-granddaddy of all fast ones. We’ll have them sitting up and begging, Tim. Get going! I’ll slip out the back way and meet you at the alley in twenty minutes.” He grabbed Rourke’s arm and propelled him to the door.