"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 005 - Gangdom's Doom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

"Hello, Barney," said the reporter. "What's the dope on this? Looks like some mob has social aspirations,
when it comes to killings. Got a story for me?"

"Later, Jerry," said the assistant commissioner. "See me down at headquarters, after I interview the
witnesses."

He drew the reporter to one side.

"Wait until this man Fellows testifies," he said. "We're going to get the real low-down on Prescott's
hook-up with the mobs. But lay off until then."

"The detectives tell me," said Kirklyn, "that Prescott pulled out a gun and fired back when three men fell
on him at the door of the lobby. He wounded one, they say. Is that right?"

Higgins questioned one of the detectives and received the man's affirmation.

"What about it?" questioned the reporter. "Can you trace the man through the hospitals?"

"You know better than that, Jerry," he said. "These gangsters have their own physicians. Don't you
remember the doctor they bumped off six months ago? He was a sawbones who was going to pull a
double cross.

"This gangster that Prescott wounded is on his way to some crooked medico right now."

Jerry Kirklyn eyed Claude Fellows curiously. He recognized that the chubby-faced man was not of
gangdom's realm. He was anxious for a statement, and he made a quick approach.

"You were with Prescott before he was killed?" he asked. "What do you know about him?"

"I know everything," replied Fellows. "He told me all his story before I left him. We were going to the
station in his car.

"I am willing to give the police a complete statement that willтАФ"

"Not here," objected Higgins. "Come along to headquarters. You can tell me about yourself on the way
down." He turned to the reporter. "You see me later, Barney."

The assistant commissioner gripped the insurance broker's arm. He turned and drew Fellows toward the
curb.

There were a few hangers-on standing near by. One of them, a sallow-faced youth with a cigarette
hanging from his lips, looked sharply at Fellows as he passed. The insurance broker entered the police
car with the officers.

The man began to stroll away as the car moved from the curb. He turned the corner and walked rapidly
toward a drug store which had a telephone booth sign on the window.

IN the police car, the detective commissioner disregarded Claude Fellows for the moment. He spoke to
Captain Weaver.