“So the arrangement has been made. You are to be at twenty-nine Arbor Street, with the dog, at nine o’clock in the morning. You are to be present throughout the fatuous performance the police have in mind, and keep the dog in view. The dog is to leave the premises with you, before noon, and you are to bring him back here. The police are to make no further effort to constrain the dog for twenty-four hours. While in that house you may find an opportunity to flush something or someone more contributive than that volatile demirep. If you will come to my room before you go in the morning I may have a suggestion.”
“I resent that,” I said manfully. “When you call her that, smile.”
IV
It was a fine bright morning. I didn’t take Meegan’s raincoat, because I didn’t need any pretext and I doubted if the program would offer a likely occasion for the exchange.
The law was there in front, waiting for me. The one who knew dogs was a stocky middle-aged guy who wore rimless glasses. Before he touched the dog he asked me the name, and I told him Bootsy.
“A hell of a name,” he observed. “Also that’s a hell of a leash you’ve got.”
“I agree. His was on the corpse, so I suppose it’s in the lab.” I handed him my end of the heavy cord. “If he bites you it’s not on me.”
“He won’t bite me. Would you, Bootsy?” He squatted before the dog and started to get acquainted. Sergeant Purley Stebbins growled, a foot from my ear, “He should have bit you when you kidnapped him.”
I turned. Purley was half an inch taller than me and two inches broader. “You’ve got it twisted,” I told him. “It’s women that bite me. I’ve often wondered what would bite you.”
We continued exchanging pleasantries while the dog man, whose name was Loftus, made friends with Bootsy. It wasn’t long before he announced that he was ready to proceed. He was frowning. “In a way,” he said, “it would be better to keep him on leash after I go in, because Kampf probably did. Or did he? Maybe you ought to brief me a little more. How much do we know?”