Duffy said, “Cut the comedy. You killed Olga and you pinned it on me. Okay, wise guy, you ain’t getting away with it….”
Gleason broke in. “What the hell is this? Who’s Olga?”
Duffy stared at the wall for a full minute, then he said, “I’m coming over. You got that dough still?”
Gleason said, “Sure.”
And Duffy hung up.
Gilroy walked in with a bottle of whisky, three bottles of ginger ale and a glass. “Your chuck’s coming right now.”
Duffy took the whisky from him and poured out a long shot. He shook his head at the ginger ale, and drank quickly. Just then a knock came on the door, and the thin man came in carrying a tray. He put it on the table, and glanced at Duffy before going out.
Duffy sat down and began to cat. Gilroy hung around, fidgeting by the radio. He said at last, “I knew that dame.”
Duffy looked up, a fork full of food suspended before his mouth. “Huh?”
Gilroy said, “I guess you’d better get moving.”