Bill Weigand lifted his head and looked at the wall opposite, and did not see it, and the fingers of his right hand tapped on his desk. Wrapped up, finished off. Was it, after all? He got Mullins in, told him to sit on it.
"O.K., Loot," Mullins said. He looked at Weigand and nodded. "Shuteye," he said. "That's what you need, all right. No use killing yourself, Loot."
But Weigand shook his head.
"There's a guy I want to talk to," he said. "A guy named Leonard. Remember Leonard?"
Mullins looked momentarily puzzled. Then he nodded, and said, "O.K."
"Just the same," he said, reasonably, "you gotta sleep sometime, Loot. You know that."
Bill Weigand said, "Right," but there was no conviction in the word."
(from Murder Is Served, by Richard and Frances Lockridge)
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