“When he unlocked the door we saw a sheet of paper on the floor. Together, standing, we read the unevenly printed message: CALL CHIEF DWYER AT HOME Canelli’s initials were scrawled in the lower left hand corner, along with the day and time: Sunday, 10:20 A.M. Friedman stepped over the paper and sighed as he sank down in his chair, unlocking his desk drawer. I knew he was looking for a cigar, his first of the day. When he began muttering under his breath, I smiled. There were no cigars in his des...k. Since it was Sunday, and he wasn’t wearing a vest, he didn’t have any cigars with him. And the cigar store in the lobby was closed. Friedman was stuck. “What’ll you bet,” Friedman said, pointing to the message, “that you’ve got one, too.” “I don’t plan to go to my office. That way, I’ll never know.” “There’s no point in both of us taking Dwyer’s lip. Is that it?” I nodded. “That’s it.” “He could’ve called you at home. There could be a message beside the telephone.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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