He seemed glad to.
“You and I are doing business whether you like it or not,” I told him. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll answer them. You’re burying a woman prisoner at the jail tomorrow?”
He cracked his finger-joints, his limbs trembled, but he obstinately shook his head. “I can’t talk to you,” he mumbled. “I hold an official position at the jail, and it’d be a breach of faith.”
“You’ll talk,” I said, standing over him, “or I’ll take you for a ride.” Jerking out the .38, I rammed it into his chest. For a moment I thought he was going to faint, but he managed to control himself.
“Don’t…” he began, in a husky whisper.
“You talking?”
He nodded wildly.
I put the .38 away.
“Okay. We’ll try again. This time get your answers out quick.”
He nodded again. His breathing had a rattle in it that added to the spooky atmosphere of the room.