and a lot more.
“So?” I knew it was one of those daily tab features for the suckers who throw their corn away on the numbers game.
“So we found it in Auguste’s locker!” Hacklin stuck his face close to mine.
I said I didn’t suppose more than three or four hundred thousand other guys would have clipped the same column.
“All right, Smart Stuff. We know the guy we’re after is mixed up in the policy angle. And there’s one other little thing that may interest you. This Auguste changed his black waiter coat to the monkey coats these fellows wear.” He jerked a thumb at the Plaza Royale’s gorgeous gold-braided mess jackets, only used to put on the dog at exclusive banquets.
“You found something in his other coat?” I didn’t like the ugly look in Hacklin’s eye.
“On it! On the sleeve. Sticky goo. I scraped off some with my knife. Blood. Yeah. What d’ya know about that!”
Across the hall I saw Auguste. He was coming toward us, straight toward Hacklin.