Duffy jerked his hand, signaling to Schultz, and followed them. Schultz, walking with elaborate caution, crossed the road and caught up with Duffy.
Inside, the three cops stood and looked at Gilroy, then walked over and stirred Shep with a foot.
One said, “He’ll be okay. Just a rap.”
The Sergeant caught sight of Schultz, and his face clouded. Duffy could see the sullen hostile expression blotting out indifference. The Sergeant said, “Where were you?”
Duffy broke in, “He’s okay. He was putting my car away.”
The Sergeant looked at Duffy, scowled, then said, “You’re in the clear now, but watch your step.” There was an ominous threat in his voice. It puzzled Duffy.
Shep began to move. Straightening his great limbs, and grunting. He raised his head painfully. Duffy thought he looked like a stranded turtle, lying there.
He said, “It’s all right.”
Shep looked at him blankly, sat up and rubbed the back of his head. He began to swear softly and vilely. When he saw Gilroy, he stopped. He turned his head and looked at Duffy. Then he got to his feet.
The Sergeant had given instructions for an ambulance; he was wandering round the room, sniffing suspiciously at everything.