“Killeano’s coming after you, buddy,” I said, lighting a cigarette. “He knows the only way he can get re-elected is to show the electors that he can handle boys like you. Flaggerty getting knocked off was a break for him. It’s given him a chance to show his power. He’s sold you out. He’ll sell all the other bright boys out too. But you can stop him, if you want to.”
“I can stop him all right,” Gomez said, clenching his fists. “And I don’t want any help or suggestions from you.”
“You boys always work the same way,” I said, shrugging. “You figure you’ll lay for Ed., and fill him full of hot metal. But you won’t get near him. He knows you’ll come gunning for him, and he’ll take precautions. I bet you don’t set eyes on him until after the election; then it’ll be too late.”
Gomez chewed his under-lip, frowning.
“Well, what’s your idea, then?”
“An easy way to fix Killeano would be to call at 46 Waterside between eleven-thirty and twelve tonight,” I said. “Maybe you didn’t know Ed. relaxed in that joint. He has a private room
in the basement, and his mob goes with him. I don’t suppose they’ll worry you much, will they?”
He brooded, then stood up. “If that’s all you can suggest,” he said, “you can beat it. And the next time you snoop into this apartment without being invited, you’ll be carried out feet first.”
“I’m scared,” I said, went to the door, opened it, paused. “If you did find Killeano in that cathouse, it’d look good in the press, wouldn’t it? Jed Davis would print all the dirt you gave him so long as you gave him proof. I can’t see Ed. being re-elected if that kind of news broke on the morning of the election, can you?”
“Get out,” he said.