“Ah,” I said, grinning.
“Arsenio Salvatore,” Frank begin bringing his attention back to Allen. “We need to know if our hunch is correct. If Brinkley did for a fact kill Salvatore for botching up the Hollander thing. Thought maybe you might remember a name, someone, from way back who was pretty close to Salvatore. Anyone. Anyone we might be able to talk to and make shake something out of them. Figuratively speaking, of course.”
Allen stared at Frank, totally mystified. Debra, shoving her round frames for glasses up her nose again and watched curiously. Gramps, coming to his feet, walked over to the stove, retrieved the coffee pot, and moved back to fill his cup. But he was waiting for an answer as well. I knew the old fart. The old spy in him was constantly absorbing information that may,
