Mike and partner Rick in typical exchange:“Okay,” I said, “so you had your .22. How’d you manage to get the drop on the whole bunch with that peashooter?”
“New York cop 29 years, Mikey, learned a couple things in that time. The bad boys had a Walther PPK under the bar. Interesting gun. I backed Inga up with the .22. Without her happy whip, she whimpered like a virgin at a Teamster’s outing, if you can imagine.”
“Typical Nazi.”
“Exactly. Anyway, when I got the drop on Inga, she must have pressed a silent alarm. One bozo flew down the stairs and we swapped lead. That’s why the sling. I scored a nice shot grouping around his sternum. By the time I checked upstairs you were gone, so too everyone else. Phones were ripped out so I hiked to one of those nearby mansions and strong-armed a butler into letting me use the phone.”
“You muscled a butler, eh? What’d you use, adverbs?”
“Not really. Butlers don’t read much. That’s why they’re always accused of the murder in the parlor. Everyone knows they’re stupid enough to be the killer.”
“Go on, Miss Marple.”
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