Ludlow sighed and lay back on the pillow, and Shayne went out, leaving him staring up at the grimy ceiling.
Chapter twelve
Chief Will Gentry was seated alone in a rear booth of a small restaurant a block from police headquarters when Shayne entered a short time later. He looked up from a cup of jellied beef broth and frowned as the redhead slid into the seat opposite him.
“Doc Meeker tells me you dodged out on having that head wound examined, Mike,” Gentry rumbled.
Shayne picked up the menu. “I had a hot lead that had to be followed up fast,” he answered. “I did leave my car in the lot for you.”
“What was the lead?” Gentry demanded.
“Margrave. Ralph Carrol’s business partner.”
“Oh? Trying to sick you onto the Vulcan angle, eh?” he asked with distaste and disinterest.
“Yeh,” he muttered, running his eye over the menu. He beckoned the waiter, ordered lamb stew and coffee, then continued to the chief, “Did you talk to Margrave?”
“He called me early this morning and talked a blue streak about soulless corporations who keep an army of gunmen on the payroll to wipe out small competitors. I sent Lieutenant Hanson over to see him, but it sounds like hogwash to me. You go for it?”