'She'll take somebody with her,' Grave Digger warned. 'She's covered and Galen was, too.'
The chief looked at Lieutenant Anderson reflectively.
The silence ran on until the sergeant blurted, 'That's not in this precinct.'
Anderson looked at the sergeant. 'No one's charging you with it.'
'Get on, Jones,' the chief said.
'Reba got scared of the deal and barred him. Her story will be that she barred him when she found out what he was doing. But that's neither here nor there. After she barred him Galen started meeting them in the Dew Drop Inn. He arranged with the bartender so he could whip them in the cellar.'
Everyone except Grave Digger seemed embarrassed.
'He ran into a girl named Sissie,' Grave Digger said. 'How doesn't matter at the moment. She's the girl friend of a boy called Sheik, who is the leader of the Real Cool Moslems.'
Sudden tension took hold of the group.
'Sheik sold Sissie to him. Then Galen wanted Sissie's girl friend Sugartit. Sheik couldn't get Sugartit, but Galen kept looking for her in the neighbourhood. I have the bartender here and a two-bit pimp who has a girl at Reba's. He steered for Galen. I got this much from them.'
The officers stared appraisingly at the two handcuffed prisoners.
'If they know that much, they know who killed him,' the chief said.
'It's going to be their asses if they do,' Grave Digger said. 'But I think they're leveling. The way I figure it, the whole thing hinges on Sugartit. I think he was killed because of her.'
'By who?'
'That's the jackpot question.'
The chief looked at Good Booty. 'Is this girl Sugarrit?'
The others stared at her, too.
'No, she's another one.'
'Who is Sugartit then?'
'I haven't found out yet. This girl knows but she doesn't want to tell.'
'Make her tell.'
'How?'
The chief appeared to be embarrassed by the question. 'Well, what the hell do you want with her if you can't make her talk?' he growled.
'I think she'll talk when we get close enough. The Moslem gang hangs out somewhere near here. The bartender here thinks it might be in the flat of a boy who has a pigeon loft.'
'I know where that is!' the sergeant exclaimed. 'I searched there.'
Everyone, including the prisoners, stared at him. His face reddened. 'Now I remember,' he said. 'There were several boys in the flat. The boy who kept pigeons, Caleb Bowee is his name, lives there with his Grandma; and two of the others roomed there.'
'Why the hell didn't you bring them in?' the chief asked.
'I didn't find anything on them to connect them with the Moslem gang or the escaped prisoner,' the sergeant said, defending himself. 'The boy with the pigeons is a halfwit — he's harmless, and I'm sure the grandma wouldn't put up with a gang in there.'
'How in the hell do you know he's harmless?' the chief stormed. 'Half the murderers in Sing-Sing look like you and me.'
The homicide lieutenant and Anderson exchanged smiles.
'They had two girls with them and-' the sergeant began to explain but the chief wouldn't let him.
'Why in the hell didn't you bring them in, too?'
'What were the girls' names?' Grave Digger asked.
'One was called Sissieratta and — '
'That must be Sissie,' Grave Digger said. 'It fits. One was Sissie and the other was Sugartit. And one of the boys was Sheik.' Turning to Big Smiley, he asked, 'What does Sheik look like?'
'Freckle-faced boy the color of a bay horse, with yellow cat eyes,' Big Smiley said impassively.
'You're right,' the sergeant admitted sheepishly. 'He was one of them. I should have trusted my instinct; I started to haul that punk in.'
'Well, for God's sake, get the lead out of your ass now,' the chief roared. 'If you still want to work for the police department.'
'Well, Jesus Christ, the other girl, the one Jones calls Sugartit, was Ed Johnson's daughter,' the sergeant exploded. 'She had one of those souvenir police ID cards signed by yourself and I thought-'
He was interrupted by the flat whacking sound of metal striking against a human skull.
No one had seen Grave Digger move.
What they saw now was Ready Beicher sagging forward with his eyes rolled back into his head and a white cut — not yet beginning to bleed — two inches wide in the black pockmarked skin of his forehead. Big Smiley reared back on the other end of the handcuffs like a dray horse shying from a rattlesnake.
Grave Digger gripped his nickel-plated thirty-eight by the long barrel, making a club out of the butt. The muscles were corded in his rage-swollen neck and his face was distorted with violence. Looking at him, the others were suspended in motion as though turned to stone.
'Stop him, God damn it!' the chief roared. 'He'll kill them.'
The sculptured figures of the police officers came to life. The sergeant grabbed Grave Digger from behind in a bear hug. Grave Digger doubled over and sent the sergeant flying over his head toward the chief, who ducked in turn and let the sergeant sail on by.
Lieutenant Anderson and the homicide lieutenant converged on Grave Digger from opposite directions. Each grabbed an arm while he was still in a crouch and lifted upward and backward.
Ready was lying prone on the pavement, blood trickling from the dent in his skull, a slack arm drawn tight by the handcuffs attached to Big Smiley's wrist. He looked dead already.
Big Smiley gave the appearance of a terrified blind beggar caught in a bombing raid; his giant frame trembled from head to foot.
Grave Digger had just time enough to kick Ready in the face before the officers jerked him out of range.
'Get him to the hospital, quick!' the chief shouted; and in the next breath added, 'Rap him on the head!'
Grave Digger had carried the lieutenants to the ground and it was more than either could to do to follow the chief's command.
The sergeant had already picked himself up and at the chief's order set off at a gallop.
'God damn it, phone for it, don't run after it!' the chief yelled. 'Where the hell is my chauffeur, anyway?'
Cops came running from all directions.
'Give the lieutenants a hand,' the chief said. 'They've got a wild man,'
Four cops jumped into the fray. Finally they pinned Grave Digger to the ground.
The sergeant climbed into the chief's car and began talking into the telephone.
Coffin Ed appeared suddenly. No one had noticed him approaching from his parked car down the street.
'Great God, what's happening, Digger?' he exclaimed.
Everybody was quiet, their embarrassment noticeable.
'What the hell!' he said, looking from one to the other. 'What the hell's going on.'
Grave Digger's muscles relaxed as though he'd lost consciousness.
'It's just me, Ed,' he said, looking up from the ground at his friend. 'I just lost my head, is all.'
'Let him go,' Anderson ordered his helpers. 'He's back to normal now.'
The cops released Grave Digger and he got to his feet.
'Cooled off now?' the homicide lieutenant asked.
'Yeah. Give me my gun,' Grave Digger said.
Coffin Ed looked down at Ready Belcher's bloody head.
'You too, eh, partner,' he said. 'What did this rebel do?'
'I told him if I caught him holding out on me I'd kill him.'
