Both O’Hara and the patrolman rounded on him.
“You stick around and like it,” the patrolman snarled. “We’ll tell you when we’re ready, see?”
The driver began to tremble with temper, “I ain’t scared of a couple of coppers,” he said. O’Hara turned his attention to me. “How do I know they’re dummies?” he demanded, fixing me with a cold eye.
I suddenly lost my own temper and shoved the dummy at him. “Look and see,” I said angrily, “I’m getting fed up with this. I ask this officer to give me a hand and the whole damned police force has to come along and shoot its mouth off.”
“Yeah,” the patrolman said, ranging himself on my side, “what he says is right.”
O’Hara felt the dummy gingerly, took a peep at its face and seemed satisfied. “Well, it’s a crazy trick, anyway,” he said, handing the dummy back to the patrolman.
“Who wants your opinion?” I said, opening the cab door.
As I began putting Lydia into the cab, she grunted again.
O’Hara said, “Cucumber, huh?”
I looked back over my shoulder, “You must be psychic,” I said and got into the cab.