“Mr. Whalen is busy,” the man said, barring the rear entrance to the Whalen Social Club, which was closed. He looked Beau over with a knowing eye. “Give me the message and I’ll pass it on to him.”
Beau peered past the man into the dimly lit hallway. He had come around to the back of the club after getting no response to repeated knocks on the front door, despite the fact he could see movement inside. There was a service bell by the rear door, for deliveries he’d presumed, and he’d laid on it until the man had finally opened the door to tell him the club didn’t open until three. At which point, Beau had told him he wanted to talk to Whalen.
“No message, just a name. LeRoy. He suggested I connect with Mr. Whalen.”
“Never heard of him.”
“No, but Mr. Whalen has.”
Rather than reply to what
