A woman’s laughter sounded shrilly from the shadows ahead, and then two bulky figures in uniform came loitering toward the trio. They stopped and one of them said gruffly, “That you, Henri? You’re out early tonight.”
Henri said, “Sort of. Got a couple of friends.” He kept moving past the two policemen.
The other cop said, “Hold it, Henri.” He was staring at Shayne intently. Under the brim of his hat, the detective recognized him as the patrolman who had come into Captain Denton’s office with Sergeant Parks that afternoon. He averted his face and strolled on.
“What’s eating you?” Henri asked in a surly tone, half turning back. “Can’t you see I’ve got business?”
“That’s what I wondered? Where you taking those two fellows?”
Henri grated, “What the hell’s it to you?”
Shayne was half a dozen paces ahead of Henri and Drake.
He paused and looked back. One of the bulky policemen was striding toward him. Shayne ducked his chin and hunched his shoulders so the brim of his hat half concealed his gaunt face.
The cop stopped in front of him and jerked the brim of his hat up. He whirled about with an angry snarl, and told Henri, “You better watch your step. This mug is a stoolie. For the Feds maybe.”
Henri whistled and came forward slowly.