Egan was chewing his tongue, or anyhow he was chewing something. Some saliva escaped at a corner of his mouth, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. His jaws still working, he interlaced his fingers and locked them tight. He was having a hell of a time.
“Well?” Cramer demanded.
“I gotta think,” Egan croaked.
“Think straight. Don’t kid yourself. We’ve got you like that” — Cramer raised a fist — “on the assault and the extortion. It’s a simple question: Had you ever seen Mr. Horan before last night?”
“Yeah. I guess so. Look, how about a deal?”
“No. No deal. If the DA and the judge want to show some appreciation for cooperation, that’s up to them. They often do, you know that.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Then answer the question.”
Egan took a deep breath. “You’re damn right I saw him before last night. Lots of times. Dozens of times.” He leered at Horan. “Right, brother? You goddam lousy rat.”
“It’s a lie,” Horan said calmly, meeting the leer. He turned to Cramer. “You invited this, Inspector. You led him into it.”