CHAPTER 14Mulligan had a gentleman’s flat on the South Side, on the fringe of Jackson Park. It had once been a nice place to live, but now it was run-down in about the same proportion as Mulligan himself. But run-down or not, he had a shrewdness and tenacity that only age can bring. When he showed you an object, you knew it was real.
He was in pajamas and a bathrobe and slippers and he moved lumpily around his cluttered living room, like a sack loosely filled with potatoes. He opened a finger-marked manila folder on a card table and showed me what he had.
“The King girl was tough,” he said. “All I could get was that she had made certain withdrawals from a special account at certain dates. Substantial withdrawals, like ten grand here, fifteen there.”
“You’ve pinned down the dates?”
“Yea
