The Coincidence
The former Bridges police detective and Spadros Family man Albert Sheinwold looked older than the portrait I kept in his file. He lay face up in the narrow brick alley strangled, with crimson lips marked upon his cheek and a Red Dog g**g card in his breast pocket.
I peered at the card, then at him. “Just like the rest.”
A motion, out of the corner of my eye. Morton had collapsed onto the wall, face white.
Blitz hurried to Morton, sitting him upon a crate. “Never fret, sir. Such a sight would unnerve any gentleman.”
Constable Hanger nodded at me, speaking just loudly enough for the four of us to hear. “Exactly the same.” He pointed to his own collar. “The marks on the neck. They’re the same.” He stopped for a moment, as if deciding how much to tell me. “I served under t
