A Taste for Violence
“Then he said, “I’ve been smoking too much lately, anyhow.”
“I’ve heard,” said the chief, “that you’re a smart cookie. We’ll get along all right if you remember this is my town.”
The blow had reopened the cut on his lip. He got out a handkerchief and dabbed the blood away gently. “Mr. Persona gave me the idea the town belonged to AMOK.”
“Persona,” grunted the chief, “can hire all the special deputies he wants, but I still run Centerville.”
“And Seth Gerald runs you?” Shayne said bitterly.
Shayne felt this blow coming. He turned his face away and Elwood’s heavy palm struck the side of his head. “Keep driving straight ahead,” he rumbled to the driver. “Not too fast. We’ve got lots of time and aren’t going nowhere.”
A bell was ringing dully in Shayne’s left ear. He kept his face averted, looking out the window at the thin mist.
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