Everybody Had A Gun by Richard Prather Page A

in what Breed thinks is his territory and he's gotta get his damn fat fingers in the pot. What else? Him and the big boys behind him."
    "What big boys?"
    Shrimpy lifted his head up and peered down his nose at me. "Good Christ. How long you been living? Who the hell you think I mean?"
    I guess he was right. He didn't have to give me names.
    Maybe they didn't have names this far down the line, but he meant the smart, smooth-talking "businessmen" that Senator Kefauver and the income-tax boys were after. I left it there.
    "Sader's got a good deal?"
    "Hand over fist."
    "That does it, Ozzie. Nothing else?"
    He shook his head.
    "O.K. Who's at that phone number, and I'll take off."
    "I told you all I know."
    I got up. "All right, Ozzie. If you don't know, you don't know. But better you should tell me if you do. I can get it out of the police files, but it might start people wondering."
    He swore softly and expertly. "Yeah. Christ Well, it's a dame's place. Sader's dame—one of those mistress things. Me, I couldn't never afford nothing like that. Name's Kitty Green. And that's all I know. Don't even know where she lives—but Sader pays the rent. Now stop messin' with me."
    I said, "O.K., Ozzie, you got your deal," and went out.
    I wanted to make a phone call, but first there was something else I might as well do while the chance was handy. On the ride back to City Hall I told Rawlins what I wanted.
    "Here's what I'd like. I got a good look this afternoon at half a dozen men who work for Collier Breed—at least, I think they do. And two who work for Marty Sader. Just for hell I'd like a peek at any pictures you've got of guys you know are thick with Sader or Breed."
    I had the feeling I'd be seeing one or more of those goons again, and the more I knew about them, the better. I wanted what I could get on those boys.
    Rawlins said, "You get me that sixth race?"
    I shook my head. "You know what I did? I forgot all about that. Play number seven."
    He grinned. "You know I don't play the ponies. You get anything else?"
    "I'm not sure. But—uh—I'm not going to press charges."
    He frowned. "Huh? And you the guy that started all this?"
    "Wait a minute, Rawlins. Don't pop your top. I didn't start this; Ozzie did. Or somebody behind him. I told him I wasn't pressing charges—something I couldn't do if I were a cop. And act your age. I also told him that anything else that messed him up was his worry. You know damn well he's going up, charges or no charges. I told the guy as much."
    He glared at me for a moment without speaking, and to change the subject I said, "This picture deal. That too much of a job? Won't take too long, will it?"
    His face relaxed and he grinned. He didn't say anything, just kept grinning.
    I thought I knew why. I know a lot of the officers in the department well, and with one or two exceptions—among which Rawlins wasn't included—we got along like buddies. I'd learned a lot about the functioning of the Los Angeles Police Department, and one of those things was that the place was efficient as hell.
    This time wasn't any different. At the City Hall we went inside and I suddenly discovered we weren't headed for the Records and Identification Division. I asked Rawlins, "You lost? Don't we go to the 'I' room?"
    "Not this time, Scott. We go to the Intelligence Division."
    I lifted an eyebrow at him, but kept quiet. In Intelligence, I sat down behind an empty desk while Rawlins walked off. I lit a cigarette, but before I could really settle down to smoking the thing, Rawlins was back, still grinning.
    "Naw," he said, "it won't take long."
    He tossed two neat packs of small photos onto the desk in front of me. He tapped the thick one and said, "Breed."
    Then he tapped the thin stack and said, "Sader."
    "Oh, you're cute," I said. "Don't look so damn smug, Rawlins."
    He grinned.
    "How come so handy?" I asked him. "You can't have all the tough boys in town cross-indexed like this."
    He sat down