“I know. A rat catcher!”
“They call him Prissy. How did you know?”
“And he believes Sterling is the murderer,” Snod announced.
“Say, you been sleeping all morning?”
“Yeah. But I’m a real detective. An obstetrician is the busiest animal on God’s earth. He don’t have time to change his undershirt. Any woman can call him at any hour, and what do you expect from a man in that fix but gossip, mister? ’Spose you spent your life....”
“Aw, naw!” Matt’s response was definite. “He and Peters are buddies.”
“Sissies. It takes guts to fight death, and skill to be a doctor. Guts is masculine, skill is feminine. They’re sissies.”
“It takes more than that to be a urologist, Snod. The one here holds out in a clinic where you see men ... Jesus! ... The damnedest looking liquids suspended over the beds hitched under the sheets with rubber tubing and patients who curse your soul black if you so much as sneeze as you pass them!”
“After the ball is over,” Snod inserted flatly.
“Well, believe me, that doctor is all man.”