“Who’s got it?” Peppi snarled.
“Never mind who’s got it,” I returned. “All you have to worry about is who’s going to have it in an hour’s time.”
“That’s it, is it?” Peppi’s voice was soft and menacing. “You’re crazy to try that stuff on me.”
“Okay, so I’m crazy,” I said. “But I’ve got something on you, Peppi, that you won’t get out of in a hurry.”
“Let me slug this punk,” Law said.
Peppi jerked his head to the office. “Come in here,” he said, “I want to talk to you.”
I went into the office with Lew crowding me.
“What’s the idea?” Peppi said. “Come on—give.”
“If I’m not at a certain address in an hour’s time,” I explained, watching Lew out of the corner of my eye, “that picture’s going to the police chief. And then you can talk yourself out of it.”
“What address?” Peppi asked, fiddling with his cigar.