“I—I reckon somebody was funnin’ with me.”
“We’ll ask ’em pretty soon,” grinned Brick.
Romeo gawped at Brick, who brushed past him and went across the street
into Otto’s place.
* * * * *
The place was partly filled. A number of men were standing at a poker
table, watching Soapy Caswell, who was betting recklessly. Over at the
piano an emaciated-looking young man was explaining a piece of music to
the girl, Rosie.
Brick sat down and began to roll a cigaret, but looked up and noticed
that the girl was watching him. She nodded to the piano-player and came
slowly up to Brick, who got to his feet.
“I was just looking over a new song,” she said.
Brick nodded. For several moments neither of them said a word and then
the girl said softly—
“Have you investigated the killing of Grant Dale?”
Brick stared at her curiously, and it suddenly struck him that perhaps
the girl had been interested in Dale.
“Yes’m, I’ve kinda pried into it a little.”
“Do you know a man they call Nebraska?”