“Don’t you read the papers?” Ryan said. “He was killed in a drunken-driving accident out on Long Island.”
“I didn’t know.” Morgan looked back at Herlehy, seemed honestly puzzled. “But what’s the connection?”
Herlehy considered it, then shook his head. “As far as we can tell, there is no connection. The sergeant just considered it an interesting coincidence. Isn’t that it, Sergeant?”
Ryan nodded. “I guess that’s it, sir.”
Johnny Liddell pushed his way through the glass doors opening on his outer office. The redhead at the electric typewriter looked up and frowned at him. She consulted her watch. “Keeping bankers’ hours?”
“I was out late last night,” Liddell said. “Business.”
“Monkey business, no doubt,” Pinky told him. “Anyway, it must have been something that made you real popular wi
