Chapter 14

The little man was sweaty and nervous.

The kind of nervous that makes everyone within 30 feet nervous too.

Not the best quality if you choose to work outside the law.

Not really the best quality anywhere, but when a day's work has a potential consequences of landing in a cell or worse,

projecting a certain Zen-like calm strikes me as the best personality trait that you can have. But when a day's work has the potential consequences of landing in a cell or worse,

projecting a certain Zen-like calm strikes me as the best personality trait that you can have.

It certainly is the common thread between all of the most successful operators I have met.

This little fellow was in no danger of making that list.

Of that I was fairly certain.

He had been flustered from the moment he opened the door and found old square jaw and me in the grimy little hole

that he apparently liked to call his waterfront hideout.

Again, a good criminal would try and avoid that kind of nomenclature.

It's like putting a sign out front that says secret lair.

I had mentioned this to Jack at the time.

He pointed out that a good criminal wouldn't

talk to us at all, and a bad criminal would be in the lockup. Somewhere in the vastness in

between the two dwelt the little man we had come to pay a call on. Jack had introduced him as

Freddy the finger, much to the little man's displeasure. Jeez, Jackie, how many times do I got to ask you about that?'

the little man had said.

"'Sorry, Frederick,' Jack had replied.

"'People might get the wrong ideas all,' Freddy had blustered, picking up steam.

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