Duffy drank a little of the Scotch and felt better. He said, “You ain’t met these two before, have you?” to the little guy. “The stiff over there was Murray Gleason, and the redhead sitting on the floor showing all she’s got is Annabel.”
The little guy giggled, then said, “My, my, you go places, don’t you?”
Duffy said, “Sure. Well, now you’re here, what’s next?”
Clive went over to Gleason, turned him over, and searched him. He found the sheaf of notes and the little pocket-book. He came over with them to the little guy. They both examined the note-book carefully.
Duffy lost interest in them, he went over to Annabel. He said very quietly, “When you killed Olga you started something. I’m going to pin that on to you, if it takes me a hundred years.”
She drew back her lips and spat at him. He raised his hand, looked at her, then stepped away. “It’s time you were dead,” he said.
The little guy held the note-book and said to Clive, “Would you like to watch this?”
Clive said he would.
“Give him a hoop as well,” Duffy said.
The little guy looked at him with disapproval. “I told you before not to make fun of him.”