Alice forced a little smile. “I’m sorry,” she said and sat down in Duffy’s chair. Duffy came and sat on the arm.
“What about Morgan?”
Sam blew out a cloud of smoke. “Now Morgan, he’s a cagey bird to nail. He’s got some racket in connection with a chain of night-clubs. I’d say at a guess, he’s a boss behind the scene, and he’s controlling vice in a big way. Anyway, I can’t get a proper line on him, except rumours. They know him down at headquarters, but they’ve never pinned anything to him yet. Still, they’re always hoping. He’s got plenty of dough, runs a big house, and has a tough mob working for him.”
“If Morgan’s got that sort of a background, I guess he’d want those pictures of that girl. It might give him enough pull to scare English off closing his joints.” Duffy was looking thoughtful.
Sam nodded. “That’s just it,” he said. “Morgan would be sitting very pretty if he could close English down.”
“Cattley? Did you find out anything fresh about him?” Duffy asked.
Sam shrugged. “There’s not much you don’t know about that rat,” he said, “you know what he did. Dope, women, and white slaving. Cattley’s certainly been making plenty of dough these last months. No one’s sure of where he got it. He’s moved up a lot since we knew him. Does, or rather did, everything on a big scale. The cops can’t get a line on him, but they watch him from time to time.”
“Is he going to be missed?”
Sam shrugged. “Not unless someone who knows him gets worried and blows to the police. That ain’t likely.”
Duffy brooded some more. “You done a swell job of work,” he said at last. “What I want to know, is where do I go from here?”