“Take him away,” Killeano screamed at us as we came in. “Make him put that gun down.”
Hoskiss and I walked over.
“Hello, Fatso,” I said. “Don’t you like our young friend?” I touched Clairbold on his shoulder. “What are you doing here, bright eyes?”
“Call him off!” Killeano shrieked. “Get that gun away!”
Clairbold lowered the gun, cleared his throat apologetically. “I’m glad you’ve come, Mr. Cain,” he said. “I was wondering what I should do with this—er—man.”
Hoskiss ran his fingers through his hair. “Who’s this guy?” he asked blankly.
“The greatest private dick since Philo Vance,” I said.
Killeano made a sudden dive across the desk, reached for a sheet of paper. Hoskiss flung him back.
“Take it easy,” he said. “Park your truss until I can get around to you.”
Killeano snarled at him, wrung his hands.