Chapter 8Perlman came to work as one of the first.
He had been sitting behind his typewriter since early morning and laboriously pressing the keys, trying to pour his thoughts onto paper in a way that was clear and logical and that did not betray his panic. In Boston, he was part of a team meant to fight Prohibition violations, not solve other crimes! Especially murders!
He tore out a page and, as on the previous day, crumpled it up and threw it in the bin. He hid his face in his hands, sighing heavily, before he resumed his interrupted work. This time he tried to describe everything dryly, impersonally, focusing on facts and figures alone. A nightmare of bureaucracy for many.
For him, however, it was a simple thing.
He loved to describe how many people were arrested, how many were int
