Duffy said to Shep, “They beat it in the rain.”
Shep put his hand across his eyes and squeezed his temples, as if trying to force his eyes back to normal. He said in his tinny voice, very low and hoarse, “I’ll square those rats, you see.”
Schultz was watching the cops uneasily. He said out of the corner of his mouth, “These birds ain’t acting friendly.”
Duffy went across the room and fixed drinks. He said, “You boys want something while you’re waiting?”
The two cops looked up, their stupid faces brightening. The Sergeant said, “Skip that. You know better.”
Duffy held the glass in his hand, astonished, but he said nothing. The ambulance came up then. They could hear the siren, and two white-coated attendants scooped Gilroy up and took him away.
The Sergeant came over to Schultz. “You got a rod?” he said.
Schultz pulled Duffy’s Colt from his holster and handed it over. The Sergeant examined it, his eyes narrowed, and his lips thin red. “We’ll look this over,” he said. “It might have a record.”
Duffy moved forward and took the gun out of the Sergeant’s hand. He said in a hard voice, “Tell English I took it from you,” he said. “I want this cannon for a while.”
Thick red veins knotted at the Sergeant’s neck. His watery blue eyes bulged. He didn’t say anything, but walked out, jerking his head at the other two.