“What’s the matter with him?” demanded Haney blankly.
“He’s nuts,” said the Chief. “If he was gonna apologize——”
Mike shook his head.
“He wouldn’t apologize,” he said brittlely, “because he thought you might think he was scared. But when he’d proved he wasn’t scared of a beating—then he could say he was sorry.” He paused. “I’ve seen guys I liked a lot less than him.”
Haney put on his coat, frowning.
“I don’t get it,” he rumbled. “Next time I see him——”
“You won’t,” snapped Mike. “None of us will. I’ll bet on it.”
But he was wrong. The others went out of the storeroom and back into Sid’s Steak Joint, and the Chief politely thanked the proprietor for the loan of his storeroom for a private fight. Then they went out into the neon-lighted business street of Bootstrap.
“What do we do now?” asked Joe.
“Where you sleeping?” asked the Chief hospitably. “I can get you a room at my place.”