“Slightly tighter, Fred. Where was it?”
“Going down Eleventh Avenue in the Fifties.”
“A dark gray Caddy sedan with a Connecticut plate?”
“Yes.”
“Was it Birch’s car?”
“I never saw it before. But Birch worked with a hot-car gang too, and of course that Caddy was hot. Everything Birch had a hand in was hot.”
“Yeah, he’s dead now, so why not? Who was the woman with him?”
“I don’t know. I was across the street and didn’t see. Take the cord off! No more until it’s off!”
He was breathing fast again, and his face was grayer, so I told Fred to give him a recess. When his legs had been unwound Egan thought he would bend them, then thought he would straighten them, then decided to postpone trying to move them.
I continued. “Didn’t you recognize the woman?”