guy was part of it.
'We're going to do it by the numbers, Mr Paladin,' Cheyney said,
and although he was speaking to the man glaring up at him from
one of the chairs (he had refused the sofa at once), his eyes flicked
briefly to Pete. They had been partners for nearly twelve years, and
a glance was all it took.
No more Comedy Store routines, Pete.
Message received.
'First comes the Miranda Warning,' Cheyney said pleasantly. 'I
am required to inform you that you are in the custody of the
Burbank City Police. Although not required to do so immediately,
I'll add that a preliminary charge of trespassing-'
'Trespassing!' An angry flush burst over Paladin's face.
'-on property both owned and leased by the National Broadcasting
Company has been lodged against you. I am Detective 1st Grade
Richard Cheyney. This man with me is my partner, Detective 2nd
Grade Peter Jacoby. We'd like to interview you.'
'Fucking interrogate me is what you mean.'
'I only have one question, as far as interrogation goes,' Cheyney
said. 'Otherwise, I only want to interview you at this time. In other
words, I have one question relevant to the charge which has been
lodged; the rest deal with other matters.'
'Well, what's the fucking question?'
'That wouldn't be going by the numbers,' Jacoby said.
Cheyney said:. 'I am required to tell you that you have the right-'
'To have my lawyer here, you bet,' Paladin said. 'And I just
decided that before I answer a single fucking question, and that
includes where I went to lunch today and what I had, he's going to
be in here. Albert K. Dellums.'
He spoke this name as if it should rock both detectives back on
their heels, but Cheyney had never heard of it and could tell by
Pete's expression that he hadn't either.
Whatever sort of crazy this Ed Paladin might turn out to be, he was
no dullard. He saw the quick glances which passed between the
two detectives and read them easily. You know him? Cheyney's
eyes asked Jacoby's, and Jacoby's replied, Never heard of him in
my life.
For the first time an expression of perplexity - it was not fear, not
yet - crossed Mr Edward Paladin's face.
'Al Dellums,' he said, raising his voice like some Americans
overseas who seem to believe they can make the waiter understand
if they only speak loudly enough and slowly enough. 'Al Dellums
of Dellums, Carthage, Stoneham, and Tayloe. I guess I shouldn't
be all that surprised that you haven't heard of him. He's only one of
the most important, well-known lawyers in the country.' Paladin
shot the left cuff of his just-slightly-too-loud sport-coat and
glanced at his watch. 'If you reach him at home, gentlemen, he'll
be pissed. If you have to call his club - and I think this is his club-
night - he's going to be pissed like a bear.'
Cheyney was not impressed by bluster. If you could sell it at a
