He blushed. “Well, Mr. Cain, it’s nice of you to say so. I’ve been trained to appear rather simple. The Ohio School of Detection has taught me that criminals underrate people who act dumb.”
I dug Hoskiss in the ribs. “You might get somewhere if you took that course,” I said. “Look what it’s done for this lad.” Then I nodded at Killeano. “Your prisoner, buddy, and it’s our job to get him out of here.”
“Forget it,” Speratza snarled from the door. “Stick up your hands or I’ll blast the lot of you.”
We turned.
Speratza was covering us from the door with a Thompson. His face was white, his eyes vicious.
I had laid my .38 on the desk as I read Killeano’s statement. I calculated the distance, decided it was too far.
Killeano made another rush, tried to grab the statement, but Hoskiss flung him off.
A gun exploded at my side. Speratza dropped the Thompson, swayed. A blue-red hole appeared in the centre of his forehead. He crashed to the floor.
“I don’t believe this gun is safe,” Clairbold muttered, staring at the smoking Colt, but there was a satisfied gleam in his eyes that told me he was kidding.
I fell into Hoskiss’s arms.