“We’ll see, Mr. Horan. Take him, Purley.”
The two left the room, Purley in the rear. Cramer got up and crossed to my wastebasket, dropped the remains of his cigar in it, and returned to the red leather chair. He started to say something to Wolfe, saw that he was leaning back with his eyes closed, and didn’t say it. Instead he asked me if he could be heard in the next room, and I told him no, it was soundproofed. Purley came back and went to his chair.
Cramer addressed Egan. “Okay, let’s have it. Is Horan in that racket?”
“I want a deal,” Egan said stubbornly.
“For God’s sake.” Cramer was disgusted. “You’re absolutely sewed up. If I had a pocketful of deals I wouldn’t waste one on you. If you want a break, earn it, and earn it quick. Is Horan in the racket?”
“Yes.”
“What’s his tie-in?”
“He tells me how to handle things, like people that are trying to get from under. Hell, he’s a lawyer. Sometimes he gives me leads. He gave me the lead on that Leopold Heim, goddam him.”
“Do you deliver money to him?”
“No.”