“I thought you said the male guards didn’t go to the Women’s quarters?” I said sharply.
“They don’t unless a male visitor has business in the quarters. Coppinger, for instance, was escorted by two guards.”
I drummed on the table. “So it can’t be done?” I said.
He sighed regretfully. “I’d tell you if it could be,” he said. “I could use that grand, but I know it’s hopeless. Believe me, no one can get into that jail and no one can get out. They could try, but they’d be dead meat before they got properly started. I tell you: Flaggerty is expecting you to try. He’s got everything sewn up tight, and when that rat sews up anything tight, it stays tight.”
I got up. “Okay, Mitchell,” I said. “Keep your trap shut about this. I’ll think it over. You might still be able to earn that grand. When do you go on duty?”
“Tomorrow morning at seven.”
“What’s your first job?”
“Inspect the cells, then I’ve got the job of cleaning up after the P.M.”
“What P.M.?”
“They’re trying to find out why this dame died. The P.M. is for nine-thirty tomorrow morning.”