“And he’s right,” Boyd said. “Look at the newspapers. Everything’s screwy lately.”
“Everything always is screwy,” Malone said.
“Not like now,” Boyd said. “So many big-shot gangsters have been killed lately we might as well bring back Prohibition. And the labor unions are so busy with internal battles that they haven’t had time to go on strike for over a year.”
“Is that bad?” Malone said.
Boyd shrugged. “God knows,” he said. “But it’s sure confusing as all hell.”
“And now,” Malone said, “with all that going on—”
“The Congress of the United States decides to go off its collective rocker,” Boyd finished. “Exactly.” He stared down at his cigarette for a minute with a morose and pensive expression on his face. He looked, Malone thought, like Henry VIII trying to decide what to do about all these here wives.
Then he looked up at Malone. “Ken,” he said in a strained voice, “there seem to be a lot of nutty cases lately.”
Malone considered. “No,” he said at last. “It’s just that when a nutty one comes along, we get it.”
“That’s what I mean,” Boyd said. “I wonder why that is.”