Chapter 22: XXII

XXII The Ice Pick Downtown, I went first to police headquarters. McGraw was holding down the chief’s desk. His blond-lashed eyes looked suspiciously at me, and the lines in his leathery face were even deeper and sourer than usual. “When’d you see Dinah Brand last?” he asked without any preliminaries, not even a nod. His voice rasped disagreeably through his bony nose. “Ten-forty last night, or thereabout,” I said. “Why?” “Where?” “Her house.” “How long were you there?” “…