Killeano turned out to be quite a guy for getting things organized. “We’re going to be fair to Cabin,” he said, thumping his fist on the back of a chair. “I know it looks bad for him, but he’s my guest, and I’m going to see he gets a break.”
Flaggerty muttered under his breath, but Killeano was the boss.
“So what?” Flaggerty asked, shrugging. “Why waste time? I want this guy down at headquarters for questioning.”
“We don’t know he’s guilty,” Killeano barked, “and I won’t have him arrested until I am satisfied you’ve got a case against him. We’ll question him here.”
“My pal.” I said.
He didn’t even look in my direction. “Keep that weman quiet,” he went on, pointing at Miss Wonderly, who sat alone, weeping into the house dick’s handkerchief. “I don’t want her shooting of her mouth until we’ve heard the other witnesses.”
I smoked and looked out of the window while Killeano yelled down the telephone and got things organized. Finally he had everything the way he wanted and we started. The reception clerk, the house dick, the elevator boy, Speratza and the barman from the Casino had been collected and lined up in the corridor outside. They were told to wait.
Miss Wonderly was taken into the bedroom in charge of a stout woman in black who’d been rushed up from the local jail to keep an eye on her. They told her to get dressed.
There were two tough-looking cops who stood behind my chair and pretended they weren’t going to slug me if I showed any signs of walking out on the assembly. There was Flaggerty, two plain-clothes dicks, a photographer and a doctor. There was a stenographer, a pop-eyed little man, who sat in a corner and scribbled away as if his life, and not mine, depended on him getting it all down straight. Then there was me, and, of course, my pal, Killeano.
“All right,” Kilieano said. “Now we start.”