IV
A family council was called the next day. Orsino, very much a junior, had never been admitted to one before. He knew why the exception was being made, and didn't like the reason.
Edward Falcaro wagged his formidable white beard at the thirty-odd Syndic chiefs around the table and growled: "I think we'll dispense with reviewing production and so on. I want to talk about this damn gunplay. d**k, bring us up to date."
He lit a vile cigar and leaned back.
Richard W. Reiner rose.
"Thomas McGurn," he said, "killed April 15th by a burst of eight machine g*n bullets in his private dining room at the Astor. Elsie Warshofsky, his waitress, must be considered the principal suspect, but—"
Edward Falcaro snapped: "Suspect, hell! She killed him, didn't she?"
"I was about to say, but the eviden
