Captain Killian smiled. "Pretty bad, all right. You know, last time I spent a night in New York I stayed there. It was right nice. There was a real pretty garden out in back."
"How long ago was that?" Rick queried.
The fisherman hesitated. "Oh, must be all of twenty-five years ago. I was some upset when I saw the place, but I'd already told Chick to call me there, so nothing for it but to stay. Wish I could stay somewhere else, but it wouldn't be safe to go back to Seaford."
"Whiteside would be all right," Rick said. "You could stay there."
"I'd rather. But are you sure it'd be safe?"
Jerry spoke up. "Captain, I'm on the Whiteside Morning Record. I'll make a deal with you. Give us your story exclusively, when the right time comes, and the paper will guarantee your safety."
"It sounds good," Captain Killian admitted. "But when is the right time going to come? Maybe never."
"Sooner than you think," Rick said quietly. "Look, gang. There's only one way to crack this case. We know now we can't get Captain Tyler cleared unless the whole outfit is rounded up. So we'll just have to get busy and find the evidence we need. We'll start over again, and this time we won't go wrong because we know what to look for, and where to look."
"Fighting talk," Cap'n Mike chuckled happily.
Scotty laughed. "Do we dare put our heads inside the Seaford city limits again after what we did to Carrots? He'll be waiting for us with a squad of thugs and that little popgun of his."